by Colin Forbes
This was a side to Sophie Paula hadn't seen before. She was an expert and tough negotiator. She decided to risk asking a dangerous question.
'If Roman retires I suppose one of you - either yourself or Marienetta - will take over running the whole of ACTIL.'
'It is between the two of us,' Sophie said promptly. 'So Marienetta flatters him which, I think, is a mistake. I just do my job.'
She took off the glove of her right hand to adjust the collar of her raincoat. Paula noticed on the third finger of her right hand she wore a ring with a large ruby. Don't think I've seen that before, she said to herself. She stood up, feeling she'd had enough of Sophie. Where she had sat in the middle of the seat there was a dry patch.
'I'm going for a stroll,' she said. 'Sitting too long makes me restless.'
'I'm bored stiff,' Sophie said, yawned. 'I'm going to have a nap.'
A strong breeze was blowing up from the north as Sophie shut her eyes, huddled deeper inside her heavy raincoat. Paula pulled up her own collar as she crossed over the platform, which swept round in a wide curve. Ahead of her a familiar figure was mooching along, his back to her. Russell Straub.
What on earth was he doing in Chiasso? It was as though he couldn't stay away from the Arbogasts. What was the link? A candidate for the next President of the USA and a powerful and successful businessman based in London? Didn't make sense.
In the distance behind her she caught the faint sound of the shunting engine returning with another large goods wagon. There must be a loop line the engine could turn on to so it would be behind the next wagon. How mind-killing it must be for the staff who worked here. Some maybe posted here for all their working lives.
She shivered. The fresh breeze was bitter, penetrating her coat. She waved her arms, slapped her hands round her body. Didn't seem to make any difference. At least it was better than sitting still on that seat with miserable Sophie.
However, she had learned something. If Roman retired one day control of the giant conglomerate would pass to Marienetta or Sophie. Which one would he choose? Paula had no idea. She also doubted whether Roman had any intention of retiring for years. If ever.
As she approached the convoy of wagons she saw they were linked together. Obviously at some stage, when a fresh wagon had been shunted to join the convoy, a member of staff must come along and link the latest arrival. Nearing the end of the convoy she folded her arms to try and keep in the warmth still left in her body. She stopped a distance away, standing near the edge of the platform. It was something to watch.
The knuckles with a hard end pressed against the middle of her spine, shoved with great force. She flew forward, unfolding her arms to have the use of her gloved hands. Then she landed on the track in the most awkward position, legs and knees perched on the platform, the rest of her body over the drop below her thighs. Her gloved hands had hammered down on stones between rails which stunned her. She tried to heave herself back but her hands felt like blocks of ice, wouldn't give her the leverage she so desperately needed. The upper part of her body seemed anchored to the platform, she couldn't move it. Her head was spinning with shock.
She made herself look towards her right, saw with horror what was coming. The shunted wagon was moving steadily towards her. She realized her neck was lying across the inner rail nearest the platform. She saw the huge nearside wheel of the oncoming coach rotating as it advanced closer and closer to her neck. Oh God! It was going to decapitate her. The revolving wheel gleamed with wetness. She could even see a tiny defect in the rim of the relentlessly advancing wheel. She made a supreme effort to lift herself with her hands. No strength at all left. Her arms ached. She had never before felt so paralysed with fear as the remorseless wheel rolled forwards within yards of her.
38
Strong hands grasped her round the chest, heaved her up and swung her in the same motion to the left - to avoid the projection of the front of the wagon. Newman was kneeling on the brink of the platform, the only way he could have reached her. She came up like a cork out of a bottle as he stood, hauled her back against himself. There was a deafening clang as the buffers of the newly arrived wagon slammed into the waiting convoy.
Newman lifted her off her feet, carried her towards the only seat on the platform. As he conducted this manoeuvre an American voice began bawling at the top of its bellow.
'Emergency! Emergency! Emergency . . . .'
Paula had her eyes open, saw Russell Straub standing a mere few feet from where the wagons had collided. He had his hands cupped round his mouth as he repeated his frantic call.
'Do shut up!' Newman growled.
As they neared the seat Paula saw Sophie open her eyes and blink. She also saw a dry patch of seat as though Sophie had moved her position. While asleep? Newman's request to Sophie was not polite.
'Get off that damned seat. It's needed for Paula. So shift, damn you.'
It worked. Sophie was so indignant she jumped up and walked off, her face like thunder. Newman lowered Paula gently onto the seat. He looked appalled and so guilty.
Resting her back against the seat Paula stretched out her legs one at a time. They worked normally. She performed the same exercise with both arms. Same thankful result.
'Are you OK?' Newman asked hoarsely.
'I'll survive,' she said softly. Her throat was so dry.
'God, I'm so sorry,' Newman gasped out. 'I was having trouble lighting a cigarette. The wind. Had my back turned towards you. Supposed to guard you, protect you. What a lousy job I made of that. I am so sorry.'
'Don't be silly,' she croaked. 'You did the job. Somebody pushed me over the edge.'
'Who?' His expression changed to overpowering rage. If she had been able to give him a name she felt he would without a second thought have killed them.
'No idea. I'm terribly thirsty. Makes it difficult to talk.'
By now a flock of uniformed officials had rushed down to the seat, some with white coats, holding masks in their hands. A guard, who had heard her, reached into his back pocket and produced a flask.
'What's in that?' Newman snapped. 'She needs water.'
'This is water.' The guard had a kindly face, had taken out a folded clean handkerchief, used it to carefully wipe the neck of the flask, handed it to Newman.
'Now sip,' Newman urged her. 'Go on sipping. Otherwise you may choke.'
Further back along the platform, a few minutes earlier, an express from Lugano, bound for Milan, had pulled up alongside the opposite side. Tweed, who had not heard Straub's shouts, was standing by the open door of the long train. A few passengers left the express and then Marienetta stepped out.
'Welcome to Chiasso,' Tweed greeted her ironically.
'It's good to see you.' She threw both arms round him and hugged tightly. 'I wasn't coming, then I changed my mind. Thought I'd better make sure. Roman was doing his job properly.' She was smiling warmly as she released him. 'How much poison gas have they discovered?'
'None. Absolutely none.'
'Stupid Swiss. Oh dear!' She covered her mouth as Beck ran up to them.
'Come with me,' he said urgently. 'Paula's nearly had a most terrible accident. She's quite all right,' he added quickly as he saw Tweed's expression.
They hurried down the platform, past where the specialists had just finished their check, were taking off their white coats. Other railway men were carrying crates of cylinders to forklift trucks. They hurried on with Tweed in the lead, legs moving like pistons. Newman was waving people away from the seat to stop them crowding in. Paula was on her feet with Newman by her side. She was walking up and down, testing her legs, swinging her arms.
'I've had enough now,' she said and sat down on the seat as Tweed arrived.
'Are you all right?' he asked, bending down, anxiety written all over his face. 'I heard you had an accident.'
'Accident be damned!' she flared up. She had drunk all the water from the guard's flask and her voice was normal. 'I was standing on the edge of the platfor
m watching the shunting over there. Somebody came up behind me and shoved me over the edge. Not far up the line a wagon was being shunted. I couldn't move. The wagon's wheel would have sliced me in two across the neck. Bob rescued me just in time.'
'Show me the exact spot,' Beck commanded.
Paula started to get up but Newman pressed her down again, his hand on her shoulder. He told Beck he would show him. When he had looked, Beck returned, striding like a general marshalling his troops. He held his identification under the guard's nose.
'No one leaves aboard that express until I've walked through it and checked every passenger.'
The guard rushed off and Beck noticed Russell Straub standing a short distance away. He walked up to him.
'Where were you when this murder attempt happened?'
'You know who I am,' Straub said stiffly.
'And you know who I am,' Beck retorted, holding his identification under the Vice-President's nose. 'So where were you?'
'Guess I was quite a way down this curving platform!'
'On your own? Usually Ed Danvers is with you. Bodyguard.'
'Sure, on my own,' Straub said breezily. 'Thinking out the next move in my campaign back in the States.'
'That's right,' the voice of Danvers called out. He stood behind several railway officials. 'Likes to be by himself when he's working politics. Before you ask me, I was up by the platform where the express came in.'
'If it's all right by Mr Beck, you can both just go away,' said Newman.
As they departed Marienetta sat on the seat next to Paula. One hand was clutching the collar of her fur coat closer to her neck. The other hand gently took hold of Paula's and she lowered her voice.
'Are we really feeling a bit better after your ghastly ordeal?'
'Much better, thank you.'
'Do you know where Sophie was when this happened?'
Paula thought the question very strange. She looked round at Marienetta, whose expression was serious. Why be so concerned about Sophie?
'When I got up from here I left her on this seat. She said she was going to have a nap.'
'I see.'
'Time we left this dump,' Roman's voice growled. 'This has been a farce. And there's a train just come in from Lugano. Going back there soon. We should be aboard it.' He was standing behind Ed Danvers. He tapped Marienetta on the shoulder. 'Come on. Let's get going.'
Tweed, with Paula and Newman, boarded the same train. Seeing the Arbogasts again choose the front coach they entered the second coach to be on their own. Paula was relieved as she sank into a window seat with Newman by her side. She had had enough of the Arbogasts, more than enough of Chiasso which she never wanted to see again.
When the train crossed the bridge over the lake she stared at the empty seat opposite. The glitter of Lugano no longer had any appeal to her. Sitting across the aisle, Tweed noticed, understood her lack of interest. At that moment the connecting door from the front coach opened and Marienetta appeared. Newman shook his head at her. She nodded, smiled, disappeared.
'I can't imagine who tried to shove me under that wheel,' Paula said suddenly.
'There's a limited cast of suspects,' Newman told her. 'You want some dinner when we get back?'
'I just want bottles of mineral water and bed.'
'Then that's what the lady will get.'
'Sorry if I've been unsociable since we left Chiasso. I do feel like talking now.'
'In that case,' Tweed called across, 'maybe you can tell me exactly where you found that hotel pad with Chiasso and Airolo written in it.'
'It was just in the open, near the driver's door of my car. I saw it easily after I'd fired one shot at the ghost in the mist, whoever it was. Why?'
'Because it strikes me now you were intended to see it and to pick it up. It is a very good planner. Which gives me food for thought.'
'What thought is that?' she enquired.
'Still turning it over in my mind.'
'Cryptic devil,' she chaffed him. Which made Tweed realize she was recovering from her state of shock. He was relieved. He looked across the aisle a few minutes later and Paula's head was resting on Newman's shoulder, eyes closed. She had fallen fast asleep.
Arriving in Lugano, Newman had to wake her. They left the coach cautiously, with Tweed the first one out, standing on the platform. He gestured for them to follow him. It was pitch dark in the car park but in the distance they could see Roman climbing inside a chauffeur-driven stretch limo. Sophie followed him, carrying all her suitcases herself, then Marienetta.
'Sophie must be very strong,' Paula observed. 'And independent.'
They watched as Russell Straub, followed by Danvers, entered the limo. Its red lights were disappearing down the hill towards the hotel when Tweed made his remark.
'I find it very curious the way Straub always travels with the Arbogasts. Maybe that's the key.'
Paula was too tired to ask him what he meant as they boarded their parked minibus. She again told Tweed that when they got to the hotel she wanted to go straight up to bed with plenty of bottles of mineral water.
When they arrived and Tweed, with Newman, escorted her to her room she was very relieved when he made his suggestion.
'If you don't mind I'm going to draw up a roster so there's always one of us sleeping on that couch through the night.'
'I'd welcome it. That way I'm sure to get a good long sleep.'
Pete Nield, who wasn't hungry, volunteered to act as guard for the first few hours. He waited on the balcony while she took a quick shower, put on her pyjamas and dived under the sheets. She was only half-asleep for a while. In her mind faces flitted vividly. Roman, looking like the ferocious picture Marienetta had painted of him in London; Sophie, on the seat at Chiasso, the seat which had a dry patch when she returned from her ordeal; Marienetta, cat's eyes glowing as she took hold of Paula's hand on the same seat; Straub, who had said he had been walking further down the platform; Danvers, grim and distant as he stood behind the guard. Normal? Abnormal? They all looked abnormal. Her mind closed down. She fell into a very deep sleep.
After dinner Tweed assembled his team in his suite. He told Harry Butler to tell Nield later what he had said when Newman took over the duty of guarding Paula.
'Who is going to tell Paula?' Marler enquired.
'No one. That's an order.' He looked round at Newman, Butler and Marler. 'Before I asked you to come here I slipped out to phone Monica from a public box I'd noticed. She gave me some interesting information which just about completes the family tree of the Arbogasts she's been building up so very assiduously. Not an easy task. She's had to rely on the network of contacts she's built up over the years. But it still required a lot of persuasion. The data is supposed to be unavailable except to family members.'
'Good for Monica,' said Butler. 'She's a treasure.'
'We know,' Tweed continued, 'that Roman's father had a brother, Vicenzo, who emigrated to the States, changed his name to Vincent. We also know there was another brother, Mario, who also emigrated to America, got married, produced a family. His son, Aldo, later also produced a family - a son and a daughter. We have now reached Sophie's generation. Monica hopes soon to have their names. I find this development highly significant.'
'Why?' asked Marler.
'Because we are tracking a monster. A very clever one. But we must always be on our guard. I have puzzled greatly over the motive for these ghastly murders. I think I have it now. This grim business is all about power. Enormous power. So ponder what I have said.'
'Why not tell all this to Paula?' Marler insisted.
'First, because she has suffered terrible ordeals. Second, because I believe she now knows the truth. Which is why we are all going to Airolo tomorrow.'
'Airolo?' Marler sounded taken aback. 'That's way back from here - almost at the Gotthard.'
'When we arrived back this evening I went to the night clerk to ask him something. As you know, I read documents upside down. Lying on the counter, wh
ich he removed but not before I'd scanned it, was a large bill for the Arbogasts, including breakfast tomorrow. They are slipping away secretly.'
'Secretly?' queried Marler. 'They've probably bought their train tickets.'
'They haven't. I called Beck, who still has his man at the ticket office at Lugano station. No such tickets have been bought.'
'Maybe Roman's leaving it until the morning,' Marler persisted.
'No, he wouldn't. He's a first-rate organizer. He'd have done so by now if they were travelling by express train.'
'Then how are they leaving?'
'When I returned from making my phone call to Beck after dinner I saw in the drive that stretch limo still parked. Mechanics were checking it. This time they will drive a long distance, so we will do the same in the minibus.'
'Where the hell do you think they're going to?' Marler asked.
'To Airolo.'
'You know that?'
'I am relying on Paula's instincts, which have proved so accurate in the past. She has been haunted by those two twin towers on the mountain behind Airolo. Then there is the pad she found when she was leaving that weird old house by the lake. Which, I am sure, was left for her to find. The pad marked with Chiasso, where she was nearly killed. Then a crude effort to cross out a word the killer knew I would decipher. Airolo, gentlemen.'
