Vorpal Blade

by Colin Forbes

  'What could be there in that dump?' Butler wondered.

  'The key to everything. The reason why two of the most powerful men in the world have looked more and more worried.'

  'Roman Arbogast and Russell Straub?' Marler suggested.

  'Exactly. So tomorrow we'll use the same devious method we used today to leave the hotel one by one. I'll get Newman to park the minibus, fully tanked up, in the same place where he parked it before.'

  'Thanks a lot,' said Newman, who had remained silent up to now. 'The police are probably still prowling round where Black Jack's body was found at the foot of the funicular. I dodged them before. It could be more tricky this time.'

  'You'll manage,' Tweed assured him.

  'Again, thanks a lot. What time do you think the Arbogasts are moving off?'

  'Mid afternoon, I'd guess. I've just remembered. Tomorrow's lunch was on that Arbogast bill.'

  'You do realize,' Newman said grimly, 'this could be yet another trap. Like Chiasso?'

  'I do. And I sense we are approaching the final climax. It is time the trap sprang back in their faces.'

  39

  It was morning. Tweed had taken over the last phase of guarding Paula. He stretched, aching from lying on the couch. He realized Paula was still fast asleep. He checked his watch. 9.30 a.m. She had slept solidly through the night.

  He stood up and light percolated through the drawn curtains. Enough light for him to see someone had silently slipped an envelope under the door. He hadn't even heard them doing it. A hotel envelope with the flap tucked in. He opened it and stared at the sheet of hotel paper inside. One word had been written on the sheet. Airolo.

  He tucked the sheet back inside the envelope and the envelope inside the pocket of his jacket neatly folded on a chair. So it was a trap. Newman had been right. Putting on his shoes, he donned the jacket, looked at himself in a mirror while he buttoned up his shirt collar, used a comb to tidy up his hair.

  'Time to wake up,' he said quietly as he shook her shoulder.

  'What time is it?' She had woken instantly. He told her. She covered a yawn with her hand. 'Is that all right? I've had the most marvellous sleep. Hand me that dressing gown.'

  She had a quick shower, dressed in the bathroom, came running back into the room. Her normal colour, her briskness, was back. She drank more water while he explained the plan. Her reaction was positive, almost eager.

  'Airolo! Thank heavens. I've felt we should go there for some time. It fits in somewhere. I know it does. Good job we brought the minimum of luggage. I've only one case to smuggle out to where Bob's parking the minibus. What about the bill? The Swiss regard it as a major crime not to pay a hotel bill.'

  'I booked all the rooms for a week,' Tweed told her. 'I'll wait my chance to pay what we've eaten so far when the desk is quiet. I'll tell the clerk we'll be coming back to use the rooms for the rest of the time we've paid for them. You looked excited.'

  'I am. I want to lay the ghost of Airolo which has been nagging at me. Lord, that was a wonderful sleep. I'm hungry.'

  They met Newman in the deserted hall. He was dressed to go out and looked cheerful at the prospect of action.

  'I'm on my way to fill up the tank,' he told Tweed. 'Marler's also had a huge breakfast and will join me shortly. He has volunteered to stay at the hotel so he can warn me on his mobile when the Arbogasts leave. I'll bring the minibus back, park it round the corner, ready to take the rest of you to the Sayonara for lunch.'

  Td love to have time to look at the shops in the Piazza Cioccaro at the foot of the station funicular,' Paula pleaded.

  'No,' Newman said. He gave her a look. 'I mean it. From now on you stay with the team. Enjoy your breakfast. . .'

  Later, they had another leisurely meal in the restaurant in the centre of Lugano. The sun was shining, Paula enjoyed her lunch, but now she couldn't wait to get out of Lugano. It was mid afternoon when Marler called to say they had left, that he was on his way to join them.

  Marler arrived on a motorcycle. Tweed, standing outside, raised an eyebrow. It was a powerful machine and he watched as Newman helped Marler to put it aboard the minibus, storing it at the back.

  'What's the idea?' he asked Marler.

  'May come in useful. It's rough country outside Airolo. You have the same model back in London, don't you?'

  'Yes. Now let's get moving.'

  Tweed only used his motorcycle in London when he left his flat very early - and returned late in the evening, to avoid the gridlock traffic. He sat at the front next to Newman who took the wheel. Behind Newman sat Paula with Marler alongside her. Butler and Nield were in the back. They moved north out of Lugano quickly. Paula, with a map on her lap, was navigator.

  Travelling on the motorway, they bypassed castle-encircled Bellinzona. It wasn't long before the great ascent towards the Bernese Oberland began. Looking out of the window Paula saw the barren slopes on either side which reminded her of a wilderness. No more palm trees, no exotic lake. She wasn't sorry to leave it all behind. What lay ahead was what counted. She suddenly recalled the faces she'd seen floating in her mind before she'd fallen asleep. One had been missing.

  Sam Snyder.

  It was getting dark now, which caused the wilderness to seem even grimmer, desert-like. They climbed higher and higher as night fell. The only illumination was Newman's headlights. She called out to Tweed.

  'I expect you've booked rooms at a hotel for us?'

  'I have not. Airolo has only two hotels, the Supremazia and the Grandezza. We don't know which one the Arbogasts will stay at and I want to be in the other one.'

  'Sounds five-starrish. Supremazia means Supremacy, Grandezza is Grandeur.'

  'I wouldn't expect much in Airolo,' Tweed warned her.

  'You seem so confident the Arbogasts are heading for Airolo,' Marler remarked.

  'I am.' Tweed took out the sheet of paper which had been slipped under Paula's bedroom door in the night. 'Written in the same block letters as those two places on the hotel pad you picked up when you were having fun in the old dark house.'

  'What does it mean?' Paula asked.

  'It means the killer wants us to go there. So be it.'

  His words created a silence inside the minibus which lasted a long time. Now the road was really climbing. They came to a point where the motorway suddenly started to descend round a diabolical hairpin bend. From the top they could look down on the road immediately below. That was when Newman told them.

  'Red lights ahead. A very big black stretch limo. Somebody hand me a pair of night glasses. Give Paula the second pair. When we come to another twister I'll stop. Then we should be able to look down on the limo, see who's inside . . .'

  Newman had slowed down to avoid catching up with the vehicle ahead of them. Tweed rested binoculars in his lap, gave the other pair to Paula. It wasn't long before they came to another twister. Newman stopped, picked up the binoculars at the same time as Paula pressed them to her eyes. The hairpin was so dangerous the limo was moving slowly. Through their lenses they both scanned the interior of the crawling limo.

  'You were right,' Newman told Tweed. 'Your gamble paid off. Marienetta is driving with Roman next to her. Behind them Sophie is sitting next to Snyder, staring away from him - typical. They probably haven't exchanged a word.'

  'And in the back,' Paula called out, 'are Russell Straub with Ed Danvers next to him. I saw them clearly.'

  'Slow down,' Tweed ordered. 'We don't want to catch them up. But don't lose them.'

  'Catch-22,' said Newman. 'I lose either way.'

  'When we reach Airolo,' Tweed continued, 'I want to see which hotel they choose - without them seeing us.'

  'Piece of cake,' Newman replied sarcastically. 'Maybe you would like to take over the wheel?'

  'How high up is Airolo?' Paula asked to stop an argument.

  'Eleven hundred plus metres,' Tweed replied. 'Over three thousand feet.'

  'It's getting cold,' she commented.

  'So I
turn up the heater,' Newman replied. 'And from now on maybe everyone will keep damned quiet.'

  The moon had come out, a luminous glow over desolate Airolo. The Arbogasts had chosen to stay at the Supremazia, a hotel a short distance up the main street from the Grandezza. To Paula's amazement several shops were still open, one next to their hotel with motor scooters for sale parked on the pavement. Fascinated, she walked up to them with Marler, sat on one. Marler showed her how to start it, how to control its speed. The owner, small and swarthy, came out and smiled. He told her the price for hiring, for one day, for one week - plus the deposit. She said she'd think about it.

  'There are rooms for all of us,' Tweed said as she walked in with Nield. Marler was still inspecting scooters.

  'Place is empty,' Tweed went on. 'Out of season.'

  'Is there ever one here?' Nield whispered.

  The corridors were narrow, the furniture wood which had seen better days. But the proprietor, who looked like the brother of the man who sold scooters, assured them dinner was available when they were hungry. Outside Paula heard the motorcycle start up briefly, then the engine was cut.

  'Took the machine out of the minibus to check it,' Marler said as he entered. 'I've parked it on the cobbles behind the transport. Couldn't be bothered to struggle lifting it inside again. Not much gets stolen here, I'm sure. No one about.'

  'I am hungry,' Paula informed the proprietor, 'but if I could first see my room?'

  She carried her case herself, refusing his offer. She felt she needed exercise. He led her up a narrow twisting staircase, unlocked a door, waved his hand for her to enter. She smiled, said it would do fine and he left. She explored.

  Hoisting open the blind, she stared in disbelief. Below, on the opposite side of the dark street, an alley led down at a steep angle, ending in a narrow track leading up onto the mountain slope. It was the same track she had seen, from the train. She sucked in her breath, looking beyond. Higher up the mountain slope she gazed at the massive twin towers linked by a wall. The towers which had haunted her ever since she had first seen them. She shivered. They had the same air of menace, of a threat of doom.

  40

  Paula woke as pre-dawn light filtered in. Before going to bed she had showered in tepid water and had not closed the shaky blind over her window. Someone had just rattled the handle of her door. She jumped out of bed, still wearing the clothes she had donned after her shower. It was almost as cold inside the room as outside.

  It had not been possible for anyone to stay in her tiny room to guard her. Instead she had resorted to her previous tactic, ramming her wedge under the door, tilting a chair under the handle.

  Another envelope had been inserted under her door. The envelope was the same type as the Splendide Royal. She tore it open. A blank sheet of the Lugano hotel's writing paper was inside. Nothing on either side. What the devil was going on?

  Then she heard the distant sound of a powerful engine fading. Running to the window she saw the minibus climbing the mountain slope towards the twin towers. It had a long way to go before it arrived. She snatched up the binoculars she had brought up to the room, focused them. Four men in the vehicle. She could make out Butler and Nield in the middle row, Newman and Marler in front, Newman behind the wheel. What the devil is going on? she thought again.

  * * *

  It was Tweed who had taken the decision after she had gone to bed, had instructed the four men assembled in his room.

  'Paula seems very worried about those two towers halfway up the mountain. In the morning very early, before dawn, I want all of you to go up to them in the minibus. There may just be something there we should know about.'

  'Can't see that it's necessary,' Newman had objected.

  'It's necessary to set Paula's mind at ease once and for all. She's gone through hell on this trip. Do it.'

  Puzzled, Paula sat on her bed. For something to do she took out her .32 Browning, checked the mechanism, then fully loaded it. She had just completed this operation when she heard the powerful put-put of a scooter's motor starting up, then speeding off.

  Could that be Tweed deciding to join his team? In that case she was left alone in this one-horse town. Well, if it came to it, she'd cope. She walked back to the window, stared out, froze for a moment.

  The scooter was already two-thirds of the way down the alley leading to the track up the mountain. The rider was tall, wore a long black coat tucked around the tops of black boots, with a wide-brimmed hat pulled well down over the head.

  She returned the Browning to the special pocket, slung her bag over her shoulder, ran to unlock the door. She ran down the tricky staircase. The proprietor, greeting her with a smile, stood behind the reception counter. She waved the envelope in his face.

  'Know anything about this?'

  'Yes, signorina. Man comes, asks for your room number so he deliver that. I tell him I deliver, write Room 11 on outside. Tall man in black coat, strange hat . . .'

  She ran out of the hotel to the shop next door. The shop was open. Already scooters were standing outside on the pavement. She had a large Swiss banknote in her hand, more than enough to cover a week's hire plus the deposit. She shoved it at him.

  'Too much—'

  She was already settling herself on the saddle of a scooter, thankful Marler had refreshed her memory as to how to operate it. 'The Italians make the best scooters in the world,' she remembered he had said.

  She felt comfortable in the saddle as she started the engine. In her mind she was back in her early teens when she had owned a scooter. She turned down the steep alley surfaced with pave. She sped down the steep descent and it was a bit bumpy but she held her balance. On either side ancient two-storey stone houses hemmed her in. The shop's proprietor must get up early, she was thinking, probably went to bed very early to save electricity. They'd watch the pennies here.

  At the opposite end of the alley the track began between two houses. She drove up it and turned right, where it entered a small gully. Looking up she saw no sign of it. Must be miles higher up by now. She stopped briefly to shout at the distant minibus.

  'Wrong way! You're going the wrong way!'

  Her cry echoed back across the mountain slope. The minibus went on climbing, becoming smaller and smaller. No chance they'd ever hear her. She began riding up the gully. Up and up.

  She had recalled how to adjust her balance, which was necessary. The track's surface was covered with stone chip-pings. But it was more than wide enough to manoeuvre a little. She had grabbed her motoring gloves before she fled from her room but it was still bitterly cold. She passed the limestone crag she had seen from the train and rode on to a plateau before the track entered another stretch of gully. She paused, looked back and up.

  Dawn was now glowing with the two towers silhouetted against a fantastic variety of colours. Wild pink, rose, orange and red. Just as she had seen the massive towers in her dream.

  'Keep moving,' she told herself, 'otherwise you'll lose it:

  She roared across the plateau, reduced speed as she entered the second section of gully, which was much steeper. Now she really had to watch her pace. Her scooter bumped and at intervals wiggled. She held her balance. Despite her gloves her hands were aching with gripping the handles so tightly. Where the hell are you? she asked herself. I'm not losing you this time, you fiend.

  Back at the hotel Tweed had watched the minibus start out on its long climb. Satisfied, he sat down in his pyjamas and warm dressing gown, drinking coffee from the flask he'd obtained from the proprietor before going up to his room and issuing his instructions.

  At that moment he heard a scooter starting up. Rushing to the window he was just in time to see a figure wearing a long black coat and wide-brimmed hat disappearing behind a crag high up along the track up the mountain. Then he saw Paula's scooter, racing down the alley, heading for the entrance to the track.

  Cursing because he had put on night clothes, he stripped them off, pulled on clothes without attent
ion to appearance. Before donning his overcoat he checked his 7.65mm Walther, which was already loaded, something he would have chastised a member of his team for taking risks. Slipping it into his hip holster, he pulled on the coat, unlocked the door, scrambled down the stairs.

  The proprietor said something to him but Tweed dashed past him outside into the street. To his relief he saw Marler's motorcycle was still standing on its strut. He swung onto the saddle, pressed the starter button, then he was racing down the narrow side alley, turning at the far end onto the track inside the gulch. It was just wide enough to accommodate his machine. He began speeding up the track - knowing Paula must be a long way off by now.

  Will I never reach the top? Paula asked herself. Is there a top? She had been ascending the gulch for what seemed for ever. No hint, no view as to where it was leading, but she knew she was high up. The cold was penetrating her gloves, which meant she had to grip the handles more tightly.

  When I meet it will I have the strength to fight? she worried. She crouched forward as the road surface became bumpier. She had to struggle to keep it balanced upright. Then she blinked. The track was leading up onto a wide shallow dome-shaped plateau. She slowed down, switched off her engine as she observed the signs.