Free Cell by Colin Forbes Page B

shaped weapon was gently laid on the floor. Perched on a strong-legged base was a huge shell-shaped object, the warhead already in position in its nose.
    Ali repeated for the umpteenth time the instructions he had given earlier.
    'It is harmless now. When it reaches its destination, with the weapons in their different positions, I will give the order to press the orange button. Then the weapon is active, but still harmless.' He pointed, at the button. 'At the moment when the stupendous attack is launched you press the red button.' He pointed to another button embedded in a shallow hole. 'Then London is devastated, praise be to Allah.'
    None of the Arabs listening had any idea of the destina tion the weapons would be taken to. The master planner had hired the drivers of the milk wagons by contacting men on the verge of release from prison for comparatively non-violent offences. They had been told they would, for the sum of two thousand pounds, have to drive certain vehicles transporting drugs.
    They had also been told the original drivers of the milk wagons would be tied up when a truck, slewed across a quiet road, stopped them. What Ali had not told them was that the original drivers would have their throats slit, their bodies weighted and cast into convenient marshes en route. The master planner had also anticipated that in due course the companies owning the milk wagons would report their disappearance. But who would see anything sinister in the hijacking of five milk wagons?
    Certainly not the police - or not until havoc had been created in London and thousands of bodies had been blown to bits.

    10

    It was two hours later and darkness had fallen. Earlier Monica and Paula had fetched lunches from a nearby deli for Tweed, Newman and themselves. When Newman had finished his meal Tweed had started pacing again. Paula watched him as he frowned. The momentum was building up again. He stopped by Newman, seated in an armchair.
    'Bob, I want you to get moving. You know someone at the Daily Nation, someone you can trust?'
    'I've several pals there. The most close-mouthed one is Ed Jenner, sub-editor. Why?'
    'I want you to find out every little thing you can about Drew Franklin - where he lives in London, how much time he spends in his office at the paper, any rumours about new girlfriends. Every morsel.'
    'That's easy,' Newman told him. 'And Franklin tucks himself away in a small office well away from Ed Jenner. See you all, some day . . .'
    'Why has your attention switched to Franklin?' Paula asked when he had gone.
    'Just a thought. I suspect he has great freedom of move ment.'
    Which tells me nothing, Paula thought. Tweed has got some bee in his bonnet.
    Night had come later. Monica had been using the phone non-stop, scribbling on her pad as people told her things.
    Tweed was studying his Carpford map again when Monica called across to him.
    'I know you didn't ask me to check out Jasper Buller but I've done that among other people. Didn't think you'd mind.'
    'Tell me.' Tweed was impressed. His staff knew him so well now they could guess what might be useful to him. 'Fire away . . .'
    Before she could open her mouth Marler walked in with a vague smile. Paula knew he had succeeded in his mission to track Buller. He threw off his coat, lit a cigarette.
    'I hit the bull's-eye, following Buller. No pun intended. I follow him to his pad in Pimlico. Then I wait, but not for long. The Bull can move. I've parked among other cars and what emerges from the flat? Buller, wearing Arab dress. Long flowing robe, the lot. He dives into a cab he must have phoned for. Where do you think we go to? The mosque in Finsbury Park. His cab waits round a corner. The Bull shuffles inside the mosque. Not there long. Probably kneels on the rolled-up carpet tucked under one arm, bows three times towards Mecca - that's a guess.'
    'Oh, my God, who would have guessed it was Buller,' gasped Paula.
    'Wait a little longer, my dear.' Marler squeezed her gently on