by Colin Forbes
He drank the whole glass in two swallows, accepted a refill. He leant back against the couch and grinned.
'I have a little news to report.'
'Now why did I get that idea?' Tweed chaffed him.
'Gavin Thunder has arrived in Hamburg. He's staying at the Atlantic.'
There was a short silence. Newman folded his arms, standing up. Paula sat on a couch, curled her legs underneath her, whistled.
'In a double-length stretch limo,' she said. 'With a flare of trumpets and a band playing.'
'Don't you believe it,' Nield told her. 'He sneaked in like a thief in the night. Comes in an ordinary taxi. Must have paid the driver as the cab was nearing the hotel. Leaves the porter to get his bag, hustles up the steps and he's out of sight.'
'Sure it was him?' queried Newman.
'Bet my pension on it. I was parked in the Opel not far from the hotel entrance. But far enough back to use binoculars. It was him. I've seen him often enough blasting away at an interviewer on TV. Now I'd better get back there – see who else turns up.'
'You've done well,' Tweed said. 'Yes, go back, keep checking.'
'Well, that's some development,' Paula commented.
'The eagles gather,' Tweed said, half to himself, standing on the balcony, gazing into space.
Less than a minute later there was a gentle tapping on the door. When Newman opened it Lisa walked in very quickly. She was holding a folded sheet of paper in her hand.
'You'll never guess what I found slipped under my door. It could have been there a little while. I spent ages in the shower. Here it is.'
She handed Tweed the piece of paper. He unfolded it, took his time studying it. Nothing in his face showed what his reaction was to the contents. They were typed.
Drive to Flensburg tomorrow. You will find important information waiting for you there. Very urgent. Lisa.
He handed it to Paula. While she was reading it Lisa was walking back and forth, couldn't keep still.
'The only thing wrong with that message,' she said, 'is I didn't write it. So why has someone put my name on it?'
'Maybe because the sender doesn't like you,' Tweed suggested. 'But the interesting point is it was typed on the same machine as the earlier message inviting us to assemble at the Turm. The letter "i" jumps on both typed messages.'
'It's a trap,' said Paula, who had handed the paper to Newman.
'Oh, it's a trap all right.' agreed Tweed as he took a map from a drawer. 'If I remember from a trip I made quite a few years ago, the direct route up through Schleswig-Holstein is along autobahn No. 7. Yes, I'm right, it is. And, I have a good memory for routes I've driven along in the past. I can see a lot of it in my mind. The A7 to Flensburg is a very lonely route. Mile upon mile of farmland and nothing else except for the odd dwelling all on its own.'
'Ideal country for an ambush,' Newman observed.
'It is that. But that could be turned to our advantage.'
'You do believe,' Lisa began nervously, 'that message is nothing to do with me?'
'Of course we do,' Tweed said with a smile.
'Then I think I'll go back to my room. I threw on clothes to bring that to you. I need to get dressed properly.' She hesitated. 'I can have dinner with you tonight?'
'Let's make sure nothing else develops. Keep in touch…'
Paula, again on a couch with her legs curled under her, was trying to make up her mind. I can't keep this back any longer., she decided.
'Now Lisa's gone I have something you ought to know…'
They listened in silence as she described her visit to Lisa's room, how she had answered the phone. The voice which had said 'Oskar' before she had broken the connection.
'And,' she concluded, 'while she was here we let slip the idea that maybe we could plan an ambush.'
Tuts a different complexion on a lot of things,' Newman commented grimly. 'We have a spy who knows too much about us.'
The huge underground room, beneath an unoccupied warehouse and alongside the river Elbe, had twenty men of varying nationalities assembled. It was a bleak chamber with an ancient roof constructed of giant beams. The floor was paved with old stones, the sound of seeping water added to the unsettling atmosphere. The water was trickling in between gaps in a massive stone wall which looked as though it had stood there for a hundred years. An uneasy feeling was apparent among the villainous occupants. Perched on a heavy wooden crate Delgado watched them, keeping them in suspense deliberately. Barton broke the eerie silence.
'Don't like this place. Supposing that wall breaks?'
'We drown.'
Delgado grinned wolfishly as he saw Barton's expression. As a method of controlling his brutal gang he was enjoying it. Despite their weird appearance – Slovaks, Croats and men from other parts of the world most Westerners had never heard of – they had all been well trained in the use of weapons. All had been given large sums of money and promised more when they had accomplished the massacre.
'Tomorrow,' Delgado said, 'we do it. Here.'
He pointed with a long thick finger to the map of Schleswig-Holstein pinned to a blackboard beside him. He was pointing to the autobahn which eventually led to Flensburg. Then he glared at Barton and Panko.
'You have the trucks?'
He was referring to four Discovery Land Rovers, vehicles capable of traversing almost any kind of territory.
'They're in the garage you hired,' Barton said sullenly.
'How we know they go up autobahn?' demanded the frisky Panko.
'Is quickest way. They will go.'
'What do we do to them?' Barton asked. 'Like the Turm?'
He was being sarcastic, recalling the fiasco. Delgado could have smashed his face in. He breathed heavily and then told them.
'We kill all Tweed men. Kill. Kill. Kill. OK?'
There was a growl of approval from the men assembled below him, a growl like that of predatory animals. Several raised their hands in a clawlike gesture.
'What wrong with you. Barton?' Delgado demanded, glaring at his target.
'People outside may hear us.'
'You think this?' Delgado gave his wolfish grin again. 'I ask you, clever Barton. You hear ships' sirens?'
'No.'
'Beyond that wall river Elbe. Ships moving all time. Using sirens. You do not hear? They do not hear us. Idiot!'
Delgado paused. 'Now, tomorrow, this we do…'
It was evening when Tweed summoned Marler, Butler and Nield to his suite where they joined Paula and Newman. In his shirt sleeves with the windows wide open, Tweed had the map of Schleswig-Holstein spread out on a large table.
'We've had a mysterious invitation to visit Flensburg tomorrow,' he explained. 'It is a trap. We will walk into their trap. Marler, you will be in charge of the operation to destroy our attackers once and for all. To use a certain phrase, we take no prisoners.'
Paula was startled. She had never heard Tweed issue such an order before. She looked at him as he stood, crouched over the map, arms wide spread. His mood was one of deadly and controlled determination.
'We drive up,' Tweed continued, 'in the cream Mercedes which the enemy has now become accustomed to seeing us use. All except you, Harry. You will leave half an hour later, after we have gone, driving after us up the A7. In the blue Mercedes. You will carry one of the advanced mobile phones – so you can contact Marler if you see something he should know about. You are our distant rearguard.'
'We drive up this direct route, then?' Marler queried. His finger traced the autobahn from the northern outskirts of Hamburg all the way to Flensburg in the far north.
'That's the route.'
'So the distance from here to Flensburg is…'
'One hundred and eighty kilometres,' Tweed replied. 'Driving at normal speed, not like a bat out of hell, it takes about two hours to reach Flensburg.'
'Traffic. How much of it?' Marler wanted to know.
'Hardly any – even at this time of year – once we've left Hamburg and its su
burbs behind. It's lonely and pretty much deserted.'
'We'll hope they follow us in some kind of convoy. They'll then overtake Harry in his blue Merc and he can warn us they're coming. But they may not do that. They may instead set up an ambush ahead of us.'
I'll be driving,' Newman remarked.
'If you run into an ambush,' Marler ordered, 'you reverse like mad. If there's a wood close by you back into that. We all then abandon the car toute-de-suite.'
'Weapons?' queried Newman.
'Everyone will carry grenades, the more deadly type, tear-gas canisters, automatic rifles, handguns and then there are the three Uzis. One for you, Newman, another for Nield and I'll take the third.'
'I'd like an Uzi,' Harry piped up. 'I'll be coming up behind you, may get there in time to take them in the rear.'
'Agreed. You can have mine. Now, tactics…'
It was almost dark when everyone had left the room except for Tweed and Paula. Butler and Nield were going to fetch the rest of the armament to conceal it in the blue Mercedes. Paula checked her watch.
'Doesn't look as though Mrs France is coming. She was due hours ago.'
'She may have been delayed – or not be coming at all. If she does turn up I've warned Keith about her. I shall bring her in at a certain stage – to make sure she isn't fooling us.'
'It struck me Marler has a good grasp of strategy. When he wanted to know the geography of the land on the way to Flensburg and you said flat as a billiard table. He seemed to be happy about that.'
'Because he realizes we shall be fighting a peasant army – even though well-trained. But trained in the mountains of the Balkans or the Tatra Mountains in Slovakia. They are accustomed to having rocks to shoot from behind, very rough country. Exposed out in the open, their training may well be useless.' He paused. 'How do you feel about it?'
'Excited. Now don't worry. I'll be as cold as ice when it really starts. We could have done with Mark Wendover,' she added sorrowfully.
'I talked to Cord Dillon in America when I was alone. He was appalled. But the grim arrangements have to be made. I've also spoken to Kuhlmann. Now the autopsy has taken place, Kuhlmann is arranging for the body to be flown back to the States. Dillon will meet the flight at Dulles Airport.'
The phone rang. Paula answered, then called out to Tweed.
'It's Mrs France. She's downstairs in the lobby. So I've asked her to come up. I'll go and fetch her…'
Mrs France entered in her usual fuddle, grasping a folder under her arm. She was waving her hands about and wore a floral dress.
'Oh, Mr Tweed! How can I apologize enough? I am so very sorry to be so late. Quite dreadful behaviour. But I had no choice. Rondel gave me some work which he insisted I should deal with at once. I told him I was going shopping but he said I could go to a late-opening store. Will you ever forgive me?'
Tweed waited until his plump visitor had run out of breath. Then he seated her on a couch and she placed the folder on a coffee table in front of her. He suggested she might like a drink.
'A brandy and soda?'
'That would be lovely. Really lovely. And so kind of you. The moment I saw you I knew you were a kind man. Such a very kind man.'
Paula poured her a drink. Her hand slipped and she poured more brandy into the glass than she had intended. She smiled as she handed it to her visitor.
'It may be too strong. I made a mistake. I can pour a milder one. ..'
She stopped speaking. Mrs France had swallowed half the glass at one go. Her eyes, behind the atrocious spectacles, sparkled with pleasure.
'Oh, I feel so much better. I had to rush to get here in my VW. But I had to be careful I was not followed.'
'Who would follow you?' Tweed enquired, sitting opposite her.
'The chauffeur. Danzer! He creeps about the house, appears at my side like a ghost. A peculiar man. Not the sort I'd expect to be a chauffeur. A hard man but intelligent.'
'You have something to tell me, to show me?'
'Yes. Something is wrong at the Zurcher Kredit.' She was opening her folder, producing a sheaf of bank statements. 'There is no one in Germany I dare talk to about this.'
'Mrs France.' Tweed stood up. 'I have a close friend over here for twenty-four hours. Would you mind if he joined us?'
'Of course not. If he is a close friend of yours then he can be trusted. That is so important. Trust…'
Tweed called Keith Kent, asked him to come along. When he came in, Tweed introduced him.
'This is Mrs France, chief accountant at the Zurcher Kredit. Mrs France, this is Peter, financial director of a company in London.'
'I am pleased to meet you,' Kent said, sitting beside her. 'I may say that anything you tell us will be treated in the strictest confidence.'
'You are a friend of Tweed's, so of course I trust you. Now, I am taking too long.' She spread the statements, a number of which had on them circles in pen. 'These are photocopies you may keep. A huge sum of money has been extracted from important clients' accounts. Then, if you can follow me, the money was wired electronically to a bank in the Bahamas. The strange thing is the money was immediately returned – again wired electronically -back to the Zurcher Kredit in Hamburg. The original wire carried this symbol. That means the transfer was a mistake and must be returned immediately. Which it was. Do you understand?'
'Yes,' Kent said after studying the documents, 'I think I do.'
'Is that technically possible?' Tweed asked.
'Yes, it is,' Kent assured him. 'Not everyone knows how to do it. But I can see that's what happened here.'
'Why on earth would someone take all that trouble?' Tweed wondered.
'It's very mysterious,' Kent agreed. He pondered. 'It is possible that the vital "return immediately" symbol was inserted at the very last moment. Just before transmission.'
'By someone else?' Tweed pressed. 'Rather than by whoever started the movement of the money originally?'
'That is possible. It would require a swift and secret action – to insert the symbol at the last moment.'
'Who at the bank would know about the system, Mrs France?'
'The two partners.' She tapped the rim of her half-full glass against her teeth. 'Of course, Danzer has a large account at the bank.'
'Why mention Danzer?' Tweed enquired.
'Because he has a lot of qualifications. He was once the head accountant at another bank. Then he is an engineer. And he is also an expert on explosives. I overheard that bit.'
'Explosives?' Tweed was taken aback. 'Has he ever used that expertise while in the employ of Rondel and his partner?'
'Not so far as I know.'
She checked her watch, finished off her drink, climbed to her feet.
'I do hope you will excuse me. I must go now to buy something before the late-night store closes. It is my excuse for coming here.' She looked at Kent. 'Please keep those papers for Mr Tweed. Now I really must go. Mr Tweed, I am so very grateful to you. I simply must go…'
When she had gone Kent went back to his own room, taking the photocopies with him. Tweed later picked up the phone and called Lisa.
'Tweed here. We are leaving early in the morning. Could you pack your things? You can do that in five minutes? Good. Later we'll all have dinner…'
'That's a mistake,' said Paula. 'A big mistake, taking her.'
'No, it isn't. Then we can keep an eye on her.'
Paula opened the door cautiously when someone tapped on it. Nield walked in and his manner suggested he was in a hurry.
'First, hours ago I saw Oskar Vernon walk into the Atlantic.'
'Did you see any contact between him and Gavin Thunder?'
'None at all. He arrived a while after Thunder rushed in. But recently another VIP, American, was smuggled in.'
'Smuggled in? What do you mean?'
'Rushed him in via the service elevator. Big tough guards galore. One came up to me, said "Staying long?" I was eating an apple, pretending to read a book. I snapped at him, said I was
waiting for my girlfriend, if it was any of his business. He pushed off. Must get back now. May see more…'
Tweed wandered out of the suite onto the balcony and Paula followed. It was dark and across the water buildings were illuminated mistily, more like a beautiful painting. On the opposite shore two tall church spires glowed in the illumination while street lamps were reflected in the still water, like small daggers of light. They stood there, admiring the beauty of it all.
'It's like a ghost painting,' Tweed said, half to himself. 'And now we have Gavin Thunder and one of the most powerful men in America slipping into the Atlantic Hotel. On top of that we have Oskar going into the Atlantic not so long after Thunder arrived. You know something. Looking at that wonderful view, which is a bit muddled, I'm wondering if I've got everything the wrong way round, back to front.'
CHAPTER 27
Nield was sitting behind the wheel of his Opel when it happened. He had his window open since the heat seemed more torrid than ever. The barrel of the Magnum revolver appeared inside the window. He froze.
'Now get out very slowly. And keep your hands away from any pockets. Otherwise this cannon is likely to take on a life of it own.'
Nield opened the door carefully as the muzzle of the gun retreated a foot or so. He was livid. He recognized who was speaking. The same American who had approached him earlier.
It was only when he stood on the pavement that he realized the guard, clad in civilian clothes, was built like a quarterback. Over six feet tall, his face a fixed mask. Not someone to underestimate.
'Now, buddy, turn so that your back's to me. Again, very slowly. No sudden movements. They make me nervous, trigger-happy.'
Nield revolved in slow motion, stopped when he had his back to the guard. He felt the muzzle rammed into his back. He swore inwardly. No one else appeared to be about and the street, so far as he could see, was deserted. He took a deep breath to cool his anger.
'Next move, buddy, is I'm going to check you. First for weapons. Then for identification. Get it? Because if you don't there'll be one big bang. Don't want you getting brave, do we? The gun is in my right hand and will stay there. Guess I'll use my left hand to check you out. Your girlfriend should have come earlier. Much earlier.'