Steadman looked sharply at Pope. ‘Gant?’
‘In this country, and in America, we have several such organizations, the National Front here and the National Socialist Party in America being the more obvious. But lurking beneath these, and well in the shadows, are the more sinister factions such as Column 88, and these Hitlerite movements are growing, many joining in the common cause. I hardly need tell you of these organizations’ detestation for everything Jewish. We believe Gant is at the head of one of the most powerful, but shadowy, Nazi organizations, right here in Britain. The Thule Gesellschaft.’
‘That’s why Mossad are interested in Gant? Not because he deals with terrorists?’
‘Oh no, no. Both. One goes with the other.’
‘But why this story about Baruch?’
‘Because it’s true. They wanted to hire you to find him – anything else was incidental. But Baruch’s purpose was not to find proof of Gant’s dealings with Arab terrorists, but to find out more of this Thule Society, this Thule Gesellschaft. It would seem he found out too much.’
‘As did Maggie.’
‘Yes, we think so. Only this kind of fanaticism could breed such killers as these. She must have unearthed something they weren’t prepared to let become common knowledge.’
The investigator’s shoulders slumped. ‘My God, in this day and age . . .’ he said wearily.
‘Especially in this day and age.’
‘But why didn’t Goldblatt tell me the whole story? Why would he let me walk into a set-up like that without warning?’
‘I should imagine he thought it safer for you not to know. He wanted to hire you for a fairly routine investigation job, not to get you involved in this Hitlerite movement.’
‘It didn’t protect Maggie.’
‘No, they underestimated the fanatical dedication of this group. I suppose they thought using her was even safer than your becoming involved. It’s all very regrettable.’
‘Regrettable? What do you intend to do about it?’
‘What do you intend to do, Harry?’
‘Me? You’re Security. It’s up to you to do something.’
‘We will. With your help!’
‘Sorry. I want nothing to do with it.’
‘Did I offer you a choice, Harry?’ Pope’s tone was pleasant, but there was a sinister intent to the words. ‘We could get you in so many ways. Suspicion of spying for Israel would do for a start. Coupled with suspicion of murder, of course.’
‘Murder? You can’t . . .’
‘We can, Harry, and make no mistake – we will.’ All hint of pleasantness was suddenly gone. ‘We’d have to let you go eventually on those counts, of course, but then we’d ruin your business in this country for you, and in most other countries as well. Law forces of the world like to co-operate nowadays, Harry. It’s in all our interests.’
‘Bastard!’
With an effort, the fat man leaned forward, elbows on knees, and the pleasantness came back to his features. ‘Look,’ he said, his voice gentle, ‘I know you’re just stubborn enough to resist, even if you bankrupted yourself. But take a good look at yourself. Inside, I mean. You want your partner’s killers to pay, don’t you? You can’t ignore that old feeling inside you. You’ve suppressed it for years, but you can never lose it. You fought for Israel because you didn’t like the way it was being oppressed. You fought because you hated to see the innocent hurt. You’ll help us not because we’ll force you to, but because you’ll want to. You haven’t lost that aggressiveness, Harry, you’ve just kept it smothered for some time.’
And Steadman realized the fat man was right; the urge to strike back was still in him. He wanted this man Gant to pay for Maggie’s death just as he had wanted the Arab terrorists to pay for Lilla’s. Maybe Pope’s blackmail played some part in it, but he realized the old anger in him was the deciding factor. ‘But why me?’ he asked. ‘You must have plenty more qualified.’
‘None of our chaps fit in as nicely as you, Harry. You’re a link, you see. A link between Mossad, Edward Gant – and now us. It gives us an advantage.’
‘How can I help anyway? Gant knows who I am,’ he said.
Pope settled back in his chair once again. ‘Yes, he knows who you are, but that doesn’t matter. He’ll play out the game.’
‘Game? This is just a game?’ Steadman said incredulously.
‘To someone like Gant, everything is a game. He enjoys subterfuge, enjoys testing his cunning against others.’
‘And what’s to stop him giving me the same treatment as Maggie?’
‘Nothing. Except we’ll be keeping an eye on you.’
‘That fills me with confidence.’
Pope gave a small laugh. ‘Well, you see, if he does make a move against you, we’ll have him for that, won’t we?’
The fat man laughed once again at the expression on Steadman’s face, his stomach quivering with enjoyment. ‘No, no Harry. I don’t think even our Mr Gant can risk another murder so soon. Look, we need you because there’s something in the wind. Something’s about to happen and we don’t know what. You’ll be just a small part of this. Any information you come up with will just fit into a larger picture.’
‘I feel like the sacrificial goat.’
‘Nonsense. I told you, you’ll be under surveillance all the time – we won’t let any harm come to you. We want you to go back to your Mr Goldblatt and tell him you’ve changed your mind. You want Mrs Wyeth’s murderers to be punished. He’ll believe you because he needs you. You’ll contact Gant on the grounds that you have a client who wishes to buy Gant’s particular kind of weapons.’
‘And if he refuses to deal with me?’
‘He won’t. He’s an arms dealer and it would be too unprofessional not to enter discussions at least with a prospective client. He’ll be curious about you too; I told you he is an arrogant man.
‘Get close to him. He’ll invite you to his private testing grounds – it’s his usual custom – and that’s what we want to know about. Find out as much about the place as possible and what’s going on there. That’s all you need to do.’
‘That’s all?’
Pope pushed himself to his feet, his weight making the movement an effort. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘For the moment. Oh, you might find time to read this.’ Pope reached for a green-covered file that had been lying unnoticed by Steadman on the sideboard. He handed it to the investigator. ‘Not much in there I’m afraid, mostly recent stuff. Something of a mystery, our Mr Gant, but the file will provide you with some information on the man, mainly his recent dealings with the Arabs. Don’t lose it, will you?’
Steadman regarded him with suspicion. None of it made sense. It just didn’t add up.
‘I’ll see myself out, Harry. You get some rest now,’ Pope said, walking to the door. His parting question gave the investigator even more cause for puzzlement.
‘Just a small thing, Harry,’ the big man said. ‘Have you ever heard of the Heilige Lance?’
5
‘It is not arms that decide, but the man behind them – always.’
Adolf Hitler
‘Only the loyal in blood can be loyal in spirit.’
Heinrich Himmler
Steadman slouched low in the passenger seat of the Jaguar and flexed his shoulder muscles against its soft back. He let his head loll slightly to one side and gazed up into the clear blue sky. It was one of those bright winter days, the air crisp and cold, hinting at the chill months to come, but invigorating with its keen-edged freshness.
As the car sped through country roads and busy towns, he reflected on Pope’s last words to him. He had shaken his head – no, he’d never heard of the Heilige Lance, but what had that got to do with this Gant affair? The big man told him not to worry about it, it was just that the arms dealer seemed to have an interest in the Heilige Lance, which was in fact, an ancient spearhead and he, Pope, had merely wondered if Steadman had any knowledge of the relic. With a wave of his hand as if to dismiss
the subject, Pope had left Steadman with an even greater feeling of unease. Yet he felt a familiar excitement running through him, an old excitement that had been lying dormant for so many years. Now that he had no choice but to be involved, his reluctance had vanished, and increased adrenalin had sharpened his senses in the way it had years before when he had been a Mossad agent. Steadman appeared to be relaxed, but his thoughts and reflexes had become acute.
David Goldblatt and his companion, Hannah, had seemed relieved but not that surprised at his return, for it had been beyond their comprehension that he could walk away from the bizarre murder of his friend and business partner. The new Israelis no longer believed in turning the other cheek; in fact, they considered it cowardice and not humility to do so, and Steadman’s past record showed him to be far from cowardly. His fire had been rekindled just as a cold blast would stir dying embers. His prior rejection of them had been due to shock and his passion had now overcome that shock. They understood. They needed him.
Peppercorn, a solicitor who had handled arms contracts for Steadman in the past, had arranged the meeting between him and Gant, and it was the solicitor’s Jaguar in which they were travelling now. An arms exhibition was being held by the Ministry of Defence at their military range in Aldershot and Edward Gant, along with other private arms companies, would be present with his own weapons display. It was there that Gant and Steadman would meet.
‘It was surprisingly smooth, you know,’ Peppercorn’s words broke into Steadman’s thoughts. The investigator allowed his head to incline towards the solicitor.
‘What was that?’ he asked.
‘Getting you the pass for the exhibition. Usually takes a while with these Ministry people, wanting to know who you are, what you’ve got your eye on, what country is it for? That sort of thing. They got you cleared in no time at all. Have you been pulling strings with your old military chums behind my back?’
‘Old connections never die, Martin,’ Steadman said. He guessed Pope had smoothed the way.
‘Very opportune, really. Not an easy man to get hold of, this Gant. Better for you too, to meet him on neutral ground among his competitors. Should help your bargaining power psychologically.’ He pulled out to overtake a heavy goods vehicle, then gently eased back into the stream of traffic. ‘Why Gant’s outfit in particular, Harry? Looking for something special?’
‘Very special.’ Steadman straightened from his slouched position knowing they would soon be at their destination.
‘Well, Gant deals in specialities, all right. For Israel, is it?’
Steadman gave the solicitor a sharp look.
‘Sorry, Harry. Shouldn’t have asked at this stage,’ Peppercorn grinned. ‘I’ll bet items like Swingfires and Blowpipes are on your shopping list though.’
It was an easy enough assumption for the solicitor to make, for not only did Gant deal specifically in these kinds of wire-controlled and hand-launched missiles, but Israel had suffered heavy losses when their tanks and jets had been attacked by such weapons in the 1973 conflict with the Egyptians. The Russian Strella shoulder-launched, infra-red-seeking antiaircraft missile, for instance, had wreaked havoc on their air force, and if Steadman was representing the Israelis as Peppercorn more than suspected, then they would naturally regard such weapons as a priority for themselves.
‘You’ll know soon enough, Martin, when the deal is under way,’ Steadman lied. The investigator hated to use his acquaintance in this way, but the deal had to look fairly legitimate so both parties could play out their deceptions without too much embarrassment. It was a game often utilized by politically opposite governments when superficial détente was not allowed to be harmed by private knowledge on both sides; undercurrents too dangerous to be acknowledged, but nevertheless secretly acted upon. He and Gant would play out the game until either one had reached the moment to strike. Steadman prayed the advantage would be his.
The car swung off the road and halted before tall, wire-mesh gates. An Army sergeant stepped from an office built to one side of the gates and peered into the car. The two men showed their passes and the soldier gave a signal for the gates to be opened. The car swept through, making towards Long Valley where the solicitor knew they would find Gant.
Steadman mentally identified the various military vehicles they passed along the route: Chieftain and Scorpion tanks; Chieftain Bridge Layers; Spartan carriers; AT105 carriers; Fox armoured cars; Shorland SB301 troop carriers. Overhead, Gazelle helicopters hovered, occasionally swooping low. He was pleased he still had some knowledge of army hardware, but knew the progress made in other areas would leave him completely bemused. Computers were used to wage wars nowadays: microwave systems to detect the enemy, lasers to beam in on them, missiles to destroy. And the enemy had its own systems to counter every phase of an attack. The human brain could no longer react swiftly enough to cope in complex electronic warfare; computers had become the generals.
Muffled sounds of explosions came to their ears as they passed through a wooded area, which had warning signs of a quarry at intervals on their left.
‘The Army showing off its Chobham armour, shouldn’t wonder,’ Peppercorn said.
Steadman nodded. The tank armour had been a British breakthrough which provided three times greater protection than conventional steel armour. It had regenerated the life of the tank throughout the world, for missiles had all but made the vulnerable vehicle obsolescent; the new armour, a honeycomb of materials such as steel, ceramics and aluminium, added little to the weight or the cost of the tank. He could imagine the smug smiles on the faces of the British in the deep quarry below, as their armour was blasted with rockets and mortar shells for the benefit of their prospective foreign buyers.
The car soon arrived at a huge area filled with exhibition stands proudly displaying military hardware, ranging from laser rangefinders to barbed tape, from the multi-role MRCA combat aircraft to a set of webbing, from an AR18 rifle to pralidoxime mesylate counter-nerve gas tablets.
Peppercorn drove the Jaguar into the allocated parking area and the two men stepped out. The noon sun was high and harsh in the sky, feebly trying to warm the autumn air but succeeding only in stealing the dampness from it. The solicitor reached back inside the car and pulled out an overcoat which he quickly donned.
‘Deceptive, this weather,’ he muttered. ‘Catch a cold without knowing it.’
Steadman smiled. If Peppercorn knew the true nature of the man they were about to meet, his blood would run even colder.
They trudged across the field and past a long stand where foreign officers, diplomats and civil servants sat on wooden chairs, observing the antics of Strikers, Spartans, Scimitars and Scorpions as they paraded before them. As they walked, Peppercorn asked, ‘Tell me, Harry, why Gant in particular? There are plenty of other dealers who sell similar weapons and as far as I know, Gant has never dealt with the Israelis before.’ He smiled at Steadman and added, ‘Assuming your client is from Israel, of course. The contracts I’ve been involved in personally as far as Gant is concerned have been for Iran and some of the African states. To my knowledge, he’s never been interested in selling to Israel.’
‘Gant manufactures a wider range of more specialized items than most,’ Steadman answered, ‘from missiles to anti-terrorist devices. My client requires both and thinks he’ll get a better deal by buying from the same source.’ A little too pat, Steadman thought, but the solicitor seemed satisfied.
Peppercorn was too professional to press for the identity of Steadman’s client any further, for that would soon be made clear the moment negotiations began; and besides, Steadman had virtually confirmed his suspicions in his last statement. Who else would he be buying for – the Arabs? Hardly, with his past associations.
‘Ah, there he is,’ Peppercorn said, pointing ahead.
The investigator’s gaze followed the pointing finger and he saw a group of men gathered around a green-uniformed figure demonstrating a shoulder rocket-launcher. The uniform was unfa
miliar to Steadman and he assumed it was merely worn by Gant’s demonstrators, to give individuality to his company.
‘Which one is Gant?’ he asked Peppercorn.
‘The tall one in the middle. The one talking to the girl.’
Steadman had not noticed the girl in his eagerness to catch sight of the arms dealer, but now he briefly wondered what connections she could possibly have with someone like Gant. His eyes quickly flicked to the man beside her.
Gant was tall, even taller than Steadman, towering over the assembled group, who must have been foreign buyers judging by their dark-skinned features. His body was thin and seemed stiff, as though having little flexibility. The assumption was wrong, for as Gant turned to answer a question from one of the group, his body swivelled with a controlled grace. It was a small movement, but Steadman was a professional observer and the action revealed the man’s hidden suppleness. As they advanced, Gant’s attention became focused on them. He stood without moving for several moments and Steadman could feel himself being scrutinized with cold efficiency. He returned the stare and suddenly a chill ran through him. It was inexplicable, but he felt as though he were being drawn into a spider’s web; and the man before him was well aware of the thought.
The visual link was broken when Gant turned to his prospective clients and excused himself. He broke away from the group and came forward to meet Steadman and the solicitor. Their eyes locked again and Steadman was only vaguely aware of the man in military uniform who followed the arms dealer.
Gant stopped two yards away from them so they had to keep walking to meet him. Steadman saw his eyes were light grey and he thought he detected a mocking amusement in them. The tall man’s face was long and angular, high cheekbones and hollowed cheeks giving it a slightly cadaverous appearance; his nose was strong with a firm bridge, and his high forehead, with short, light-brown hair swept back from it, held few wrinkles. He seemed younger than his years and emanated a strength that belied his gaunt frame. Only his neck gave an indication of the ravage the years had taken. It was long, therefore not easy to disguise with collar and tie, and its hollowed and wrinkled flesh caused a faint revulsion in Steadman.