The Power Read Online Free PDF Page A

'Monica left a message on his answerphone to come and see her. She'll tell him where we've gone.'
    Tweed had deliberately answered her question to introduce a whiff of normality back into her life. Middle-aged, of medium height and build, he wore horn-rimmed glasses. He was outwardly the man you pass in the street and never notice - a characteristic which had served him well as Deputy Director of the SIS. He walked quickly up the steps, put his arm round Paula, squeezed her.
    'What's happened here?'
    'It's ghastly. No, that isn't data, which is what you always want.' She took a deep breath. They're all dead.'
    'Who exactly?' Tweed asked calmly.
    'Julius Amberg, his guards and the butler, Mounce. Eight corpses waiting for you inside that lovely house. The postman did it.. .'
    'Tell me more later. I'd better go and see for myself. This postman you mentioned has gone?'
    'I haven't had time to search the upper floor. Downstairs is clear.'
    'Harry,' Tweed said, taking command immediately, 'go upstairs and search for a killer, who will be armed. Take Philip Car don with you.'
    'On my way ...'
    Butler, a 7.65-mm Walther automatic in his hand, entered the manor followed by Cardon also gripping a Walther. As Paula and Tweed followed them they saw Butler, holding the gun in both hands, creeping up the wide staircase. Cardon was a few paces behind, sliding up close to the wall, starting at the upper landing.
    'They're in here,' Paula said. 'Prepare yourself for something pretty awful. Especially Amberg's face.'
    Tweed, wearing a trench coat over his navy blue business suit, paused. Hands deep inside his trench coat pockets, a stance he used to adopt when interrogating suspects in the old days when he had been the youngest
    Scotland Yard superintendent in the Murder Squad, he stared at the dead body of Mounce.
    'I'd like to know what is inside that package the postman delivered. But we mustn't disturb anything until the police get here. We'll call them in a minute,' he said, glancing at the phone on a table against the hall wall. He listened as Paula thought of something else.
    The kitchen staff behind that door were attacked with tear-gas, then I think the killer knocked them unconscious with something. One of the three girls has an ugly bruise on her head. They're all alive, thank heavens.'
    'Pete.' Tweed addressed Butler's partner, a very different character. Slim, dressed in a smart blue suit under his open raincoat, he had neat dark hair and a small moustache. The staff are unconscious in the kitchen .. .'
    'I heard what Paula said, Chief.'
    'Go and see what you can do for them. Get a statement if any of them recover and are up to it.'
    'I'll get it all down on my pocket tape recorder,' Nield assured him.
    He produced the miniaturized recorder the boffins in the basement of Park Crescent had designed. Giving Paula a smile and a little salute, he headed for the kitchen.
    'Now for it,' Paula warned.
    She opened the door to the dining-room. Tweed walked in ahead of her, stood still after taking two paces. His eyes scanned the carnage, stared briefly at the red lake on the ceiling, walked slowly past each body until he arrived at the head of the table.
    'It's a blood bath,' Paula commented. 'You won't like Julius Amberg's face. It's been sprayed with acid.'
    'Ruthless,' Tweed said, looking down at his old friend. 'Also intriguing. Julius has - had - an identical twin brother. Julius was Chief Executive of the Zurcher Kredit Bank in Zurich, the driving force. Walter, the brother, is Chairman, does very little except draw a fat salary.'
    He looked up as Butler appeared at the door, the Walther still in his hand. He nodded to Tweed.
    'All clear upstairs. No one else is here.' His gaze swept round the room. 'Bloody hell.'
    'A perfect description,' Tweed responded. 'Lucky we were late. Paula, how did you avoid this massacre ...?'
    His expression changed. His hands jumped out of his pockets and he was alert as a prowling tiger.
    'My