by Colin Forbes
'You're not taking any chances, are you?'
'This is possibly the most dangerous assignment we've ever undertaken. Now, a brief recap. It started in Alfriston when we investigated the murder of Jeremy Mordaunt. . .'
'You've missed something. Before that we had dinner with Lord Barford - and he's turned up in this hotel. And that was when Lisa Trent first appeared on the scene.'
'You're right. I got that out of sequence. And Lisa also is staying in this hotel. Going on to Alfriston, Bogle tried to say it was suicide - an idea put into his head by Gavin Thunder. Sergeant Pole tells us about the Invisible Man
- Rondel. We visit Eagle's Nest, Rondel's weird house,
see a communications mast raised above the chimney. We
return to Park Crescent. . .'
'After a bullet has been fired through the windscreen, aimed at you.'
'True. Mark Wendover arrives, goes off, does his own thing.'
'Just as he's done at the Zurcher Rredit here.'
'Let me go on. I see Gavin Thunder, who accepted Mordaunt was murdered. Albeit reluctantly. Lisa's sister, Helga, is shot dead. Target was probably Lisa herself. . .'
'And you still don't trust her.'
'Really?' Tweed looked surprised. 'I thought you didn't.'
'I'd forgotten about Helga.'
'Doesn't prove anything . . .'
'She gave us the list of targets the rioters would hit -and she was right,' Paula reminded him.
'Might have been another confidence-building exercise
- so she could infiltrate the SIS. Our opponent — whoever
it is - has audacity. Now we come to the guts. Newman
hears rumours of a highly secret meeting to take place
somewhere in the Bahamas . . .'
'Which now looks more like the island of Sylt, according to Kuhlmann,' Paula interjected.
'I think,' Tweed said decisively, 'three factors are keys to what is going on. One, the huge amount of money which is disappearing from the Zurcher Kredit. Keith did say billions of marks. Two, this absolutely top secret meeting of very powerful men somewhere in the world. Three, who is running this show? Finally, I'm still convinced two tremendous forces are arrayed against each other. Trouble is, I don't know who belongs to which one. But I'm sure one is good and the other is evil.'
Paula put a hand to her mouth, suppressing a yawn. Tweed, who had taken his doodle pad from a drawer, noticed it, of course.
'I really think you ought to get to bed, leave me to it. I think you could sleep now.'
'I think I could.' She stood up. 'They are all mysterious characters. Gavin Thunder, Lisa, Rondel, Lord Barford. I even wonder about Mark Wendover sometimes.'
'Get to bed.'
'And,' she persisted, 'really it all started with the murder of Jason Schulz in Washington - to say nothing about the murder of Louis Lospin in Paris.'
'Do go to bed.'
She flip-flopped in her slippers towards the sleeping area, then turned round.
'And don't forget the Internet glitch that scared the wits out of Monica when the screen went crazy. And the phones went dead at the same time.'
'What do you mean?' He grunted. 'Monica was phoning all the world to see if the same thing happened.'
'That was later. She told me that when she picked up the phone after the glitch stopped it was dead for at least two minutes. I thought the Internet worked off the phone lines. We've talked about this before.'
'If you say so,' he mumbled.
'And I keep thinking of that man in the elevator here who went up again when he saw us. I was closer to him. His eyes behind those gold-rimmed glasses. He radiated energy, will-power, personality.'
'For the last time, go to bed. What I want is to locate and meet Rhinoceros.'
CHAPTER 20
Tweed woke with a start. Not knowing the situation, he kept quite still, half-opened his eyes. Daylight was streaming into the suite. Someone had pulled back the curtains and he was lying on the couch, a cushion behind his head. He listened, heard nothing, got up.
He stretched, remembered that before he'd felt obliged to sprawl on the couch he'd taken off only his jacket and shoes. But he hadn't bothered to place a cushion behind his head. He recalled he had felt something underneath the cushion. Removing it he stared at his Walther, the papers and the blue book Mark had brought him. He'd been so tired he hadn't put them there.
'Paula,' he called out. 'I'm awake.'
No reply. Cautiously, he peered between the curtains into the sleeping area. No Paula. Rubbing the back of his neck he saw two envelopes on the carpet, obviously pushed under the door from the outside. He tried the door. It was locked. Bending down, he retrieved the two envelopes.
One had the hotel name on the outside. He opened it. The room key. Of course, Paula had woken before him, had gone back to her room, not forgetting the precaution of locking his door, then pushing the key under it. He opened the second envelope, a stiff, plain white affair. He read the message inside.
Meet me at the Turm for coffee — and information. Turm, Lagerstrasse 2-8. Lisa.
He frowned. 'Lisa' was also typed, not signed in her hand.
He thought about it after checking the time - 8 am -and while he bathed, shaved and dressed in another suit. He put the note in one pocket, the Walther in another. Going down in the elevator he asked for a safety deposit - he almost said lock-box - and when he had signed the form, a male member of the staff accompanied him up a short flight of stairs.
Producing a key, the hotel man opened a door it would be easy not to notice. Once inside he closed the door which was automatically locked. He led Tweed into another room where the walls were lined with safety deposit boxes in varying sizes. He used his master key to turn the lock, invited Tweed to take his time and then vanished so his client had privacy.
Tweed turned the other key, took out the metal box, opened the lid. Inside he put Kefler's papers and Mark's niched blue book. Sliding it back, he turned his own key, then tried to open it again without using his key. He couldn't. The compartment automatically locked and could not be opened again without use of the master key. Excellent security.
He had also put in the box Lisa's envelope containing the 100,000 DM. He went into the breakfast room. There was quite a party at one table - Paula, Newman, Mark and Lisa. There was laughter, a jolly atmosphere of people enjoying themselves. Lisa wore a sleeveless pale green blouse, a white pleated skirt and trainers.
'Welcome to our working breakfast,' said Paula with a warm smile. 'Did you sleep well?'
'Like a man with no conscience,' Tweed replied as he sat in an empty chair, next to Lisa, facing Paula.
'Oh, come on,' Lisa chaffed him. 'You mean a man with nothing on his conscience.' She cocked her head. 'Or am I wrong?' she continued with a grin.
Tweed ordered his breakfast. Orange juice, coffee, toast and marmalade. He produced the note about the Turin, gave it to her.
'Did you slide this under the door of my room?'
'I damned well did not,' she replied indignantly after a swift perusal. 'What's going on? I had a note slipped under my door, too. Do read it.'
She produced a stiff white envelope, the replica of the one Tweed had received. The message was typed.
Go urgently to the main railway station. Wait in the small cafe. You will be approached by a man wearing a carnation in his buttonhole. Wait until he arrives.
'No signature,' he commented.
'Exactly,' she said. 'I decided not to cooperate. Now I'm wondering if someone was trying to get me out of the way so you couldn't check with me about your note.'
'My conclusion too.'
'Would you excuse me for a few minutes?' she asked. 'I have spilt coffee on my new skirt. Won't take me long to change.'
When she had gone Tweed lowered his voice. First he checked to make sure no one was sitting near them.
'Paula, I said last night I'm ready for war. And I am. The rendezvous at the Turm - or tower - giv
es us an opportunity to hit back hard. Here is the plan . . .'
When he had explained it he left them to make a call to the Renaissance. He spoke to Pete Nield, who said Harry Butler had just arrived in his room. His instructions were precise and terse. Arriving back at the table in the breakfast room he found Lisa had returned, wearing another plain white skirt.
'Sorry, I had to make a phone call,' he told her.
'Your orange juice is getting cold,' she said with a grin.
At 11 a.m. the six of them walked down the hotel steps and found the two cream Mercedes Newman had hired waiting for them. Earlier, in the breakfast room, Tweed had brought over Marler from his solitary table in a corner, had introduced him to Lisa.
'I do the odd jobs, like carrying luggage,' Marler had told her.
'I've never seen a porter look so smart,' she had commented with a warm smile as they shook hands.
Marler was wearing a pale linen suit, blue shirt and was sporting a Valentino tie. He grinned at her as he sat down with them.
'The luggage I carry,' he had explained, 'is expensive. So it needs an expensive porter to carry them,' he joked.
'You are making fun of me,' she had replied, then laughed.
On the pavement a uniformed porter opened the rear door of the first Mercedes. Tweed gestured for Lisa to take a rear seat. Paula took Marler by the arm.
'Go on, join her. She likes you.'
'If you say so.'
When the porter had closed the door Paula thanked him, gave him a tip, said they didn't need him any more. Alone with Tweed, she spoke softly.
'You're driving this one? I thought so. Tell me the real purpose of this trip to the Turin.'
'I've already explained it to Newman, who will travel with Mark in the second car behind us.' His expression became grim. 'I have reached the point where I think we should tackle the enemy very roughly. Put as many of them out of action as we can.'
'So you also think, as I do, that this invitation to the Turm is a trap?'
'Yes. We'll turn the trap on them.'
'It's not to do with the bullet they fired at me last night?'
'Partly, yes. But also it's strategy . . .'
Paula was sitting beside Tweed as he drove off and headed for their destination. In the back Marler was making Lisa laugh again. They had travelled some distance and Tweed had been glancing frequently in his rear-view mirror.
'We have company,' he whispered. 'Two BMWs are following Newman, keeping their distance. I'm sure Bob also has spotted them.'
'What about Harry Butler and Pete Nield?' Paula wondered.
'They were waiting on the other side of the street, across from the hotel - shielded by parked cars. As soon as I drove off they jumped into the back of Bob's Merc.'
'What are you two whispering to each other?' Lisa called out. 'Or is it something rather personal?' she suggested cheerily.
'Coming from you two canoodling in the back that's a real joke,' Paula called back and laughed.
'At least we are behaving ourselves,' Lisa shot back.
'And here,' Tweed said in his normal voice, 'is Fernsehturm. I've seen it before but I don't think you have, Paula.'
She was already staring up out of the window in amazement. Soaring up above them was a thick white needle-like tower, climbing up to an incredible height. Perched at its summit was a wide observation crest, circular like the needle below it. At the very top was a red-and-white signals mast.
'The revolving restaurant is up there,' said Tweed. 'Takes about an hour to complete one revolution - so you're not aware of any movement. I'm parking here, illegally.'
They stepped out of the car on to the pavement and the sun burned down, furnace-like heat even in mid-morning. Marler held out his hand and Tweed gave him the key. Lisa looked at him.
'Aren't you coming with us?'
'No. I'm staying with the car . . .'
Tweed led the way along a concrete path, crossing trimmed grass and then running round the base of the Turm. His legs were moving like pistons and Paula wondered why he was in such a hurry. Glancing back, she saw Newman's car parked a short distance behind Tweed's. Bob and Mark were standing on the pavement but there was no sign of Harry or Pete. They must be hunched down out of sight in the back she speculated. Why?
After a long walk they reached the entrance. Tweed bought three tickets and the girl receptionist told him a car was just leaving. They entered, had the car to themselves. Paula tensed, prepared for a rocket-like elevation like the one she had experienced in New York - going up the Empire State Building. She was wrong. The car ascended steadily without a blast-off. The girl operator looked at Tweed.
'It was the cafe you wanted?' she said in English.
'It was . . .'
The doors opened and they walked straight into the cafe, a spacious circular room with viewing windows, an upraised section in the centre with cloth-covered tables. Tweed stepped up, chose a table on the far side. A waitress appeared the moment they were seated and he ordered coffee.
'You take these,' Lisa said, producing a compact pair of binoculars from her shoulder bag. 'They're very powerful.'
'What about you?'
'I have another pair. See.' She looked at Paula. 'We can share . . .'
Tweed left the platform, stepped down on the far side, gazed below, focused the binoculars. Paula and Lisa followed him. Paula drew in breath as she stared down the sheer drop. The two parked Mercedes looked like toys.
'This is a devil of a height,' she commented. 'Good job I don't suffer from vertigo.'
She took the binoculars Lisa handed her, focused them, saw Newman's face, quite passive as he stood still. Mark was pacing back and forth. No sign of the two BMWs which had followed them. No sign of their occupants. She remarked on this to Tweed.
'They'll be taking their time, planning their approach. I would, in their shoes. Let's go drink some coffee . . .'
Paula remained standing while she drank. She was gazing at the view through the windows on the opposite side. Beyond parks with green trees a large stretch of blue water, glittering in the sunlight, spread out. Tiny white triangles, which were yachts, dotted the blue surface.
'Is that the Elbe?' she asked.
'No, not with yachts on it. That's the Aussenalster,' he said, standing beside her. 'The outer alster. "Binnen" is "inner". Why am I saying this? You know German.'
'It's heaven,' she said dreamily. 'Pure heaven.'
Lisa had taken her coffee, put it down on a table near where they had looked down. She was standing by the window. She called out urgently, peering down through her binoculars.
'I've spotted Pink Shirt. Remember him? At Reefers Wharf. Now he's wearing a bright yellow one. Could he be directing an operation? His fat face looks savage, he's just checked his watch . . .'
'Where?' Tweed was beside her, Paula on her other side.
'See that road curving over to the right - well away from our cars? Half behind a tree on the pavement.'
'Got him.' Tweed was peering through the binoculars she'd handed him. Paula now had the other pair. 'Yes, that's him,' Tweed agreed, 'keeping well away from the action. And I agree - he looks as though he is directing an operation.'
'Never expected to see that bastard over here,' Paula remarked. She moved next to Tweed as Lisa walked several yards away. 'Could he be Rhinoceros?' she said quietly.
'Possible, but we simply don't know.'
'Here they come,' called out Lisa. 'Give me the glasses. Thanks.' She didn't change the focus and her next words were almost hissed. 'Simply don't believe it. Two men, carrying sledgehammers. Barton and Panko. The thugs who followed me in London. Just escaped them in Bedford Square.'
'Don't like the look of those Balkan-type thugs who are coming,' said Paula, binoculars pressed against her eyes.
'Shouldn't we go down and help?' Lisa demanded.
'How could you — against that lot?' Paula asked.
'Look what Marler gave me.' She had opened her should
er bag. When Paula looked inside she saw a 6.35mm Beretta pistol. 'And he gave me ammo,' Lisa went on.
'Lisa has a Beretta,' Paula warned Tweed.
'We stay here,' Tweed ordered in a strong voice. 'Newman has ordered on no account is there to be a shooting party. Dead bodies in the city would pose a problem for Kuhlmann, who has enough on his hands.' He looked down. 'They'll cope.'
As Barton and Panko, leading the assault, approached, holding their sledgehammers, with the foreign thugs not far behind, Newman remained where he was, his arms folded. Mark attached something to the fingers of his right hand. Knuckleduster.
Barton reached the second car, was starting to lift his weapon when the rear door was flung open on the pavement side. It slammed into him, knocking him off balance as Butler jumped out. His right foot, booted, swung up like a spring being released, hit Barton a savage blow between the legs. Barton dropped the sledgehammer, groaned in agony, bent forward. Butler grabbed his hair, swung him round, rammed his head against the car. It sounded as though his skull had cracked.
Panko dropped his sledgehammer. A long-bladed knife appeared in his hand. He was grinning. Newman had skipped to the side of his attacker. His right hand, stiffened, struck Panko on the side of his scrawny neck. Karate chop. Panko dropped, lay motionless close to the unconscious Barton.
