Free Assault on England by Nick Carter Page A

straight-faced. I moved over to the body for a last look at the mess that had been the Secretary.
    It was another unnecessarily bloody killing. The garrotte, composed in this case of two metal handles with a length of piano wire running between them, was a familiar weapon to military men. The attacker merely looped the wire over the victim's head and pulled. The wire cut through flesh, muscle, tendon and bone until it separated head from body. At least it was a fast way to go. I remembered, suddenly, that Augie Fergus had served in the commandos. Was that how he came to know the assassin? If, in fact, he
had
known him. Now I was playing a guessing game and there was no time for that, I turned and quickly left the room.
    I found Heather at the Home Secretary's office nearby; she hadn't heard about the latest slaying. "I just ran into Elmo Jupiter," she said lightly. "He insisted that I call him. Are you jealous, love?"
    "I wish I had the time," I said. 'The Foreign Secretary has just been assassinated."
    Her lovely blue eyes widened in shock.
    "Does Brutus know?" she asked.
    "I called him on the way here. He was in quite a state."
    "It's bloody awful, isn't it?" she said.
    "If we don't improve on our batting average soon," I told her, "the British government will cease to exist as a viable institution. There was total panic at the Ministry."
    "Does Brutus have any ideas?" she asked.
    "Not really. We're pretty much on our own now. The Prime Minister has already been notified, I hear, and wants to deliver the ransom immediately."
    "He is probably afraid he may be next."
    "He's a logical target," I said. 'The killer left another note, demanding payment. And I found this at the scene." I handed her the scrap of paper.
    "It's the telephone number of the Ministry," she said, puzzled. "Do you think the assassin wrote it?"
    "It seems unlikely that an employee at the Ministry would need to write the number down," I said. "And the scrawl seems similar to the handwriting in the assassination notes. What do you make of the emblem?"
    "There isn't quite enough of it showing," she said. "But somehow I think I've seen it before. Let's go up to my flat and have a closer look."
    Heather leased a small apartment on London's West End. It was a three-flight walk up but once inside it was quite a charming place. She made us a cup of English tea and we sat at a small table by the window sipping it. I pulled the scrap of paper from my pocket again.
    "Whoever this fellow is, he likes to play rough," I said, turning the paper over in my hand. I had given Heather the details of the killing. "Rougher than Novosty. And he's probably more dangerous because he enjoys killing and because he's probably not rational."
    I held the paper to the light from the window. "Hey, what's this? There's the impression of some writing on here, under the digits."
    Heather got up and looked over my shoulder. "What does it say, Nick?"
    "I can't make it out. It looks like a capital «R» to start, and then…"
    "An 'O' and a 'Y'," Heather said excitedly.
    "And then — 'A' and maybe 'L. Royal. And there's something else."
    "It might be 'Ho, " she said, "and part of a TV There is a Royal Hotel, you know, at Russell Square."
    "Of course," I said. "Royal Hotel. But is this hotel stationery?"
    "I don't think so," Heather said. "I told you that I've seen that emblem before, but I don't associate it with a hotel. We'll check it out though."
    "If it isn't hotel paper," I said, "we have a double clue. Royal Hotel and the organization or idea represented by the symbol."
    "Exactly," Heather agreed, excitement showing in her face. "Maybe this is our break, Nick."
    "
If
the paper belonged to the killer," I reminded her.
    After tea we took a taxi to the Royal Hotel and spoke to the assistant manager at the desk. He looked at the scrap of paper and denied that it belong to the hotel. He took out a sheet of hotel stationery and showed it to us for comparison.
    "Of course, it might have