by Colin Forbes
'It will?'
'Enormously. Let's start now…'
Tweed put the same kind of questions, Guy answered them as Tweed had suggested. The answers came in a strong clear voice. Watching him, Tweed was startled by the transformation which had come over Guy Strangeways.
He looked years younger, totally alert, his blue eyes fiery. When they had finished Tweed switched off his small recorder.
'Are you expecting a fire-fight with the enemy?' Guy asked suddenly.
'It could be on the cards.'
'Got as many men as they have?'
'No. We are outnumbered, but that doesn't worry us.' 'Take me with you, to help even things up.
'Can I think about that?' Tweed suggested.
'Don't think I'm up to it, do you? I am armed.'
Guy slid a Smith amp; Wesson. 38 revolver out of a shoulder holster under his jacket, the weapon favoured by Newman. He began unloading the gun, placing six bullets on the small table.
'Why are you carrying that?' Tweed asked quietly.
'Like to be able to look after myself in a tight corner. See that picture of a man over there? That's the target.'
Guy loaded and raised the revolver, aiming at the picture. Tweed watched him closely. Guy held the revolver in one hand, pulled the trigger six times in rapid succession. The gun was steady as a rock. No sign of even a hint of a quiver. The demonstration impressed Tweed far more than he'd expected. Guy talked while he reloaded the weapon, returned it to his holster.
'I did manage to cope in the Gulf War. As you know, I was a general. Part of the sweeping left hook which raced across the desert to cut off the whole of Saddam's Presidential Guard. Then the damn Yanks stopped us. In another twenty-four hours we'd have destroyed Saddam for ever.'
'I know,' said Tweed. 'I'd like first to get in touch with one of my team. Then could I phone you in your room?'
'Of course. Incidentally, when you speak to your chap stress I take orders from him. I serve as a simple footsoldier. Won't make any suggestions unless I'm specifically asked for them.'
'I'll tell him. Going back briefly to that silly business about the money. Did you tell Sharon?'
'Good God, no! Thought I'd made that clear..Wouldn't dream of it. I've told no one except you, and I'll keep it that way. Just before I leave you alone, there is another problem.'
'Which is?'
'The usual one. Rupert. He's traipsing round with – that swine, Basil. Windermere is a bad influence on him.' He smiled grimly. 'And probably Rupert is equally a bad influence on Basil.'
'You don't mean they're here?'
'They are. Both have a room in this hotel. They were passengers when I drove here from Basel. Found myself between the devil and the deep blue sea. Didn't want them with me. Didn't want to leave them behind. Thought it best to keep an eye on them. At this moment they're in the bar downstairs, of course. Saw them a few minutes before I went back up to my room in time to take your phone call.'
'You'll have to leave them on their own if you should come with us – if we're going anywhere.'
'Trouble is Basil has hired a car here in Freiburg. So they're mobile. But there are more important things than those two. I'd better go now. I'll wait for your phone call…'
Alone in his room, Tweed called Monica on Beck's mobile phone. He could tell from her voice the moment she answered that she was excited.
'Tweed, is this line safe?'
`Yes, it is. You have news?'
'Roy Buchanan called me, wanted to speak to you.
When I said you weren't available he gave some data to pass on. No more bombs have exploded. You know why?'
'I will if you tell me.'
'Well-'
'Monica, could you hold on? Something I have to check. Back in a moment…'
Tweed had started calling Monica as soon as Guy had left the room. He had vaguely been aware of some kind of commotion outside in the corridor. Running to the door, he opened it. Paula stood there. Her expression was strange. He went into the corridor. To his right stood Osborne, smoking a fresh cigar.
'Hi there, Tweed. Time we had that drink in the bar.'
Osborne seemed the jovial hail-fellow-well-met type he had been when he had visited Tweed in his office at Park Crescent. He waved his cigar in greeting.
'What is it, Paula?' Tweed asked, irritated.
'I was coming along to your room when I heard an argument. Two voices. One was Sir Guy's. He was shouting, sounded furious. I couldn't see who the other person was. The argument sounded vicious. I was a little way round a corner, so I couldn't see anything. When I got here I saw Sir Guy disappearing. Mr Osborne was standing where he is now…'
'The name is Ed,' Osborne called out amiably. 'OK, Paula?'
'The name is Miss Grey,' she shot back. 'Did you see who was in the corridor with Sir Guy Strangeways?'
'Nope. I just came outta my room. What's the problem?'
'There isn't one,' said Tweed. 'Paula, come in. I'm talking to somebody.'
He locked the door when they were both inside, ran back to the phone he'd left on a table. He explained briefly to Paula over his shoulder.
'I have Monica holding on. Be with you soon… 'Monica. Sorry about that. Turned out to be nothing. Now I can give you my full attention.'
'Well, Buchanan is using to the full his new powers. He's ringed the American Embassy in Grosvenor Square with a large team of plain-clothes officers, all armed. When anyone comes out they're followed – on foot if they're walking, in a car if they drive away. Since he employed these tactics no more bombs, as I told you earlier.' . 'Any protests from the Americans?'
'You bet. Buchanan happened to be there in a car with a team when Morgenstern came out, was driven off in a limo. Buchanan followed him. Morgenstern stopped his limo, demanded to know what was going on. Buchanan explained they'd had a tip-off that terrorists were going to bomb the Embassy, so he was providing protection.'
'Clever. Significant that the bombings have stopped.'
'Earlier someone had placed a bomb – a big one – inside a key telephone exchange. The Bomb Squad found it, defused it.'
'Any other developments?'
'I was just going to tell you. An FBI team flew in, offered their services. Buchanan said he didn't need an alien force to help. They didn't like that at all. The situation appears to be under control. For the moment.'
'Thank you, Monica. Make a note of this hotel's name and my room number. I may not be here long. And I'll give you the number of my mobile phone…'
He gave her the data, thanked her again, ended the call, turned to look at Paula. She was sitting down, listened intently as he asked the question.
'Something very weird went on in that corridor a few minutes ago. I even. thought I heard the sounds of a struggle. Were you able to identify the second voice – the voice of the person arguing with Guy?'
'No. It was a voice I haven't heard before. Strident. Using filthy language.'
'Voice of a man, a woman?'
'Sony, Tweed, but I couldn't tell. I thought I caught the tone of a very American accent, but I could be wrong. I was still a distance along the other corridor, which muffled things a lot.'
'But you could hear Sir Guy's voice?'
'Definitely. His is so distinctive. I thought I heard him shout, "Don't you damned well talk to me like that." But again I'm not sure. When I turned the corner he was just disappearing round a corner in the distance. Ed Osborne was standing outside his room.'
'How long do you think he'd been there?'
`No idea. It looked as though he'd just come out of his room. His cigar had been trimmed and was alight.'
'I don't like it.' Tweed stirred in the arm chair he had sat in. 'Something very weird is going on, as I said a few minutes ago.'
Paula, sitting in an armchair opposite him, the one Guy had occupied, reached out and felt the coffee pot on the table. She reached for a clean cup and saucer.
'This coffee feels fresh. Drink some. It wi
ll help you to get the brain racing.'
She watched while he drank slowly. He was staring at nothing, as though his mind was miles away. He put the cup down and spoke slowly.
'Guy was with me before he left this room. He's offered to join us as a reinforcement. He knows roughly what they're up to and thinks they should be stopped. Incidentally, regarding what happened in the corridor you used the word "vicious". Were you referring to Guy?'
'No, to whoever he was arguing with. I've just had a thought. Osborne was in the corridor. Could he have been the person Guy was having a verbal battle with?' 'Wouldn't you have recognized his voice?'
'Not necessarily. I've never heard Osborne in a towering rage.'
'Voices do change according to the mood a person is in.'
'You said Guy was going to join us. Is that a good idea?'
'I came to the conclusion he would be an asset. But if he does come he'll have to travel in Marler's Audi. There's space for a fourth person there. I must phone Marler, put the idea to him. If he doesn't agree, Guy doesn't come.'
Tweed took the mobile out of his pocket. He called the other hotel, explained the position to Marler vaguely, not using Guy's name. Then he put the phone on the table.
'Marler's phoning me back from an outside phone. We'll have to wait.'
They waited ten minutes. During that time they didn't speak a word to each other. Paula deliberately kept silent. Tweed was frowning, had a look of intense concentration. When the phone rang he explained the idea in detail, emphasizing it was up to Marler whether he agreed. When he broke the connection he smiled at Paula.
'Marler agrees we take Guy. It was Guy's reference to his being treated as a foot soldier which convinced him. And Guy knows something about war. Which is what I foresee we'll be engaged in during our trip to the Black Forest. All-out war.'
'Any chance of a quick lunch downstairs?' Paula suggested. 'I had a good breakfast but I'm hungry again. Must be the cold.'
'We'll go down now.'
It was when they arrived in the lobby, bustling with staff, all moving about in a chaotic state and apparently to no purpose, that they received a dreadful shock. The chief receptionist ran up to Tweed. His hands were trembling.
'Mr Tweed, Sir Guy Strangeways has been shot. He's dead. He went out for a walk and left his gloves on the counter. I ran out and saw him fall. I heard the shot.'
37
Paula stood very still, hardly able to take in the news. Tweed also froze, his expression blank, But not for long. He spoke quietly to the receptionist to calm him down.
'Did you see anyone, or anything, else while you were outside?'
'No one. I thought I saw the rear of a brown Opel disappearing round a corner. But I can't be sure about that.'
'Where is the body?'
'With the help of some of the staff I put it in that room over there. The one with the closed door.' 'Thank you,' Tweed said as Newman appeared.
He heard Paula telling Newman what had happened as he walked towards the closed door. He had his hand on the handle when Rupert arrived, grabbing his arm. 'You can't go in there,' Rupert growled.
'Don't ever take hold of me again!'
Tweed heaved his shoulder against Rupert. The impact sent Rupert staggering back. He recovered and was advancing again on Tweed when Newman grasped hold of Rupert from behind, twisting up his arm.
'You're hurting me,' Rupert snarled.
'Make any more wrong moves and I'll break your bloody arm.'
Tweed had opened the door and walked into a sitting room. Over a couch a sheet had been drawn. He lifted it, looked down at the body laid on its back. Guy, eyes closed, looked very peaceful, except for one blemish. In the centre of his forehead was a ragged hole with congealed blood where the bullet had gone in. He replaced the sheet, left the room, closed the door, walked over to the receptionist.
'How long ago did this happen?'
'I suppose it must have been at least half an hour ago, sir.'
Tweed turned to Paula. He guided her away from the staff milling round in the lobby. He spoke to her in a quiet corner.
'Could it really have been half an hour?'
'Easily – or longer. After we heard Sir Guy arguing with someone in the corridor you took a while drinking coffee and thinking. Then you called Marler,' she went on, keeping her voice low, 'and we had to wait for him to call us back. Afterwards, when he did call back, you spent quite a bit of time explaining things to him about Sir Guy's offer to come with us. Time can pass more quickly than we realize. Now I come to reckon it up, it could have been well over half an hour before we came down to get some lunch.'
'What's happening now?'
Paula turned round and saw men in white coats and trousers come in carrying a stretcher. Rupert guided them to the room where his father lay. Tweed strode forward with Paula at his heels until he reached Rupert.
'What's going on?' Tweed demanded.
'I called them after consulting the receptionist. They're taking him to the airport just outside Freiburg, if you must know.'
'The airport? Why, in Heaven's name?'
'Because -' Rupert's manner became sarcastic – 'at airports they have planes. I've hired a private aircraft to. fly him straight home. I know that's what he would have wanted.'
'You must be mad. Your father was murdered. There'll have to be an autopsy here.'
'I'm not having foreign doctors cutting up my father's body. In case you haven't grasped it, I'm his next of kin. It's nothing to do with you.'
'It has a lot to do with the German police.'
'Oh, I fixed that. I phoned Chief Inspector Kuhlmann at Wiesbaden. I told him you agreed the body should be flown straight back to Britain.'
'You told him what?' Tweed was in one of his rare rages. 'How dare you use my name without my permission? And what exactly did Kuhlmann say?'
'Something about in view of the present situation he'd make an exception and waive the normal formalities. Reluctantly, I believe he said – providing he received a full report from London.'
'And where is this private aircraft flying your father to?'
'Heathrow. Kuhlmann also agreed that under the circumstances he'd phone the airport controller here to authorize the flight. Some such bull.' Rupert adopted a sneering tone. 'Don't know why you're fussing like an old woman. You were supposed to be a friend of my father's.'
'You're flying home with the body?'
'Glory, no. Think I want to put myself through that? Because I don't – and won't.'
Newman made a move to grab hold of Rupert. Paula grasped his sleeve, held him back, whispered something. While all this was going on the stretcher-bearers were carrying the body outside to a van waiting at the kerb.
'I've a good mind to call Kuhlmann, tell him the truth, and make him reverse his decision,' Tweed rasped. 'Let's get just one thing clear. If you ever use my name again without coming to me first I'll have you arrested and charged with deception of the authorities.'
'Do what you bloody well like!'
'You mind your filthy mouth.' Newman snapped. 'Or I'll close it for you.'
'Toodle-pip. I have to go with the van to the airport.'
'I'm going to tell the driver he's acting illegally,' Tweed said in a cold voice.
'Wait a minute,' Paula said urgently, again keeping her voice low. 'You don't want to get involved. Haven't you enough on your mind? Far more important things to attend to?'
'You're right, of course.' Tweed was suddenly calm. 'And now look what we've got on our doorstep. I think I'll have a word with him.'
Basil Windermere, sporting a cashmere overcoat, had appeared at the entrance. He walked in, stared round at the air of chaos. Tweed went up to him.
'I say,' said Basil, 'what's the party in aid of? All the staff standing round-. And didn't I see Rupert getting into the front seat of a van? Having fun, are we?'
'Hardly, Tweed replied. 'Rupert's father has just been murdered. Shot down in cold blood in the street outs
ide.'
'You don't say. Of course the old boy was getting on a bit. But to go like that. Not cricket.'
'Where have you been?' Tweed asked through gritted teeth.
'Doing the Grand Tour of Freiburg. Parked by an expensive fashion shop, watched some nifty fillies going in. And a few older ones. Must be rolling in it.'
'I heard you'd hired a car. Is it outside?'
'Think so. Unless the hotel attendant chappie has taken it to the garage.'
'Show me. What's the make?'
'An Opel. Nothing to top up the image.'
'Let's have a look now.' Tweed beckoned to the chief receptionist. They walked outside. The Opel was still there, it's colour blue. 'Was this the car you saw disappearing?' Tweed asked the receptionist.
'I do not really know, sir. It all happened so quickly.' 'You said a brown Opel,' Tweed reminded him. 'This is blue.'
'I only saw it for a second, sir. I was really looking at the body.'
'Anyone mind telling me what this is in aid of?' Basil demanded.
Tweed looked straight into the pallid eyes of Basil Windermere. He could detect no sign of any kind of human feeling, no reaction at all to the news Windermere had just heard. He went on staring into the eyes while he answered.
'We're looking for a serial murderer.'
Then he turned away and joined Paula and Newman. He led them up to his room and sat down in a chair, telling them to make themselves at home. He took Beck's mobile from his pocket.
'What does it all mean?' Newman asked. 'Was it the Phantom?'
'I'm sure it was. Guy had a bullet dead centre in his forehead. Wasn't that the case with Kurt Schwarz?'
'Yes, it was.'
'Why would they kill Guy?' Paula asked.
'I think it was triggered off by the argument you and I heard outside in the corridor. I think that after a while in his room Guy decided to go out for a walk to calm down. By that time arrangements had been made to kill him. Someone moved very fast.' As he spoke he was pressing numbers on the mobile.
