by Colin Forbes
`Why work for him then?'
`For a secretary-housekeeper the pay is very good. And I still haven't a clue about his business. He seems to dictate letters in some sort of code.'
`You mean a code like the Secret Service are supposed to use?'
`No. But his phraseology is strange. I always have the feeling there is a double meaning to the words. Still,' she smiled and for a moment left her full red lips half open, `don't let's talk about him. Let's talk about us.'
She sipped at her glass of wine, watching him over the rim of the glass. Her greenish eyes glowed with excitement.
`Isn't that Guerlain Samsara? The subtle perfume I caught a whiff of?' Tweed enquired.
`Yes. You seem to know a lot about women. Helen Claybourne has a bottle, let me try it.'
`Maybe the Brigadier would buy you a bottle,' Tweed suggested.
Not Maurice.' She smiled warmly again. 'He reckons he pays me too much. He'd say I could afford to buy it myself. Which I suppose I could.' She sipped more wine. 'Your Paula is a striking-looking girl,' she said suddenly. `And sharp as a tack.' She smiled again, wickedly this time. 'I bet she's a marvellous asset – in every sort of way.'
Tweed evaded the probe. 'She is extremely efficient. Incidentally, whose idea was it for the four of you to come on this trip together?'
`Are you interrogating me?' she needled him good- humouredly. 'It was Maurice's. I'm afraid he treats Willie as a pet lap-dog. I hope that doesn't sound cruel. I gather the friendship started ages ago out in the Far East.'
`Any idea what Willie did in those days? To earn his living, I mean.'
`More interrogation,' she chaffed him. 'You're not a top claims investigator for nothing. According to Maurice he – Willie – was known as Mr Fix-It. Let's suppose two trading companies were trying to take over each other. And things were getting nasty. They'd call in Willie – as a kind of mediator. You know how he rambles on. And apparently his amiable personality helped. Plus his stamina. You might not believe it, but he can stay up all night and be as fresh as a daisy in the morning. I imagine he used a mix of diplomacy and wearing everyone else down until he got them to agree to a compromise. There's more to Willie than meets the eye.'
And there's more to you than I'd thought, Tweed said to himself. The fun-loving blonde was turning out to have a good head on her beautiful bare shoulders. Which must have fooled a lot of men.
'Thank you for the drink – and especially your company,' Lee said and kissed him on the cheek. 'Let's do this again. And now I think I'd better get my beauty sleep. Poor Paula – God knows whether she will get to bed tonight. Willie really does have the stamina of the devil.'
She put away the jewelled cigarette holder she bad been twirling between her fingers after removing the unlit cigarette.
Earlier, as Willie had walked up the boulevard with Paula, they had passed the Copenhagen Tavern. Its wooden frontage was painted an over-bright blue. Paula had glanced through the closed door, wondering how Tweed was getting on with the glamorous Lee.
`We're nearly there, my dear,' Willie had said, rubbing his hands. 'Just a few more steps. It's bit brisk out tonight. You are warm enough, I trust?'
`Very comfortable, thank you,' Paula replied, grateful for his consideration.
Willie wore a heavy check overcoat and no gloves on his large hands. When they arrived at Les Arcades he took her arm to escort her into the warmth. A small but gallant gesture. Sometimes I prefer older men, Paula said to herself.
`Ladies first,' Willie said as he had opened the door.
Typical of Brussels, Les Arcades was a long narrow, deep room stretching away with a bar midway along on the right. Framed oil paintings and sketches of horses decorated the walls, the ceiling was oak-beamed and the banquettes were a pale green colour. Discreetly lit by wall sconces, it had a cosy atmosphere. A well-built Belgian came from behind the bar to greet them.
`Hallo there again,' Willie said cheerfully. 'You'll see I have a different lady with me tonight. I'm going up in the world. A bottle of Sancerre would go down very nicely. That should get us in the mood, Paula. Let's see the night out…'
There were only two other couples in the room and the barman ushered them to a banquette by the wall on their own. Willie tasted the wine after their coats had been taken, pronounced it good, very good indeed.
`I like this place,' said Paula. `You come here often?' `Only every time I'm in Brussels! Drink up!'
`And the Brigadier suggested you should join him?'
`Not on your life! My suggestion. Not going to let him traipse off from the New Forest and leave me behind. He isn't in a very good mood, I'm afraid. But I'm used to it. He was so often down in the mouth out in jolly old Hong Kong. I do my best to cheer him up. These old ex-officers think they're still on parade.'
`What did he do out there – in Hong Kong?'
`After the Army chucked him out, you mean?' Willie put a hand over his mouth in mock horror. 'There I go – always blowing the gaff. Forget what I said.'
`Well, what did he do? Afterwards?' Paula persisted.
`Spent half his time in the bars. Set up a few tinpot companies. Never could understand how he afforded the high life. Nothing but the best for the Brig. Always the top restaurants, the five-star hotels. Don't misunderstand me – Maurice is a good chap. Always gets his wallet out first when there's a big bill to pay – and always pays in cash. Won't touch credit cards with a barge-pole. Bit of a mystery man, Maurice.'
`And Lee? Is he going to marry her?'
Paula was asking direct questions she would normally never have dreamt of putting so pointedly. But with Willie she felt she could ask anything. She suspected he thrived on indiscretion.
`Shouldn't think so for a moment. Not Maurice. He likes to keep people dangling – off balance so they're never sure where they are with him. Probably learnt that when he was in the Army. A lot of politics when you get up to the higher ranks.'
Paula was sipping her wine slowly. Willie kept topping up her glass, then refilling his own empty glass. He must have a head like a rock, she thought.
`And how did you spend your time in Hong Kong all those years?' she asked.
He beamed. 'And how do you know it was all those years?'
`Someone told me. Can't think who.'
`Doesn't matter. Me? I did a bit of this and a bit of that.' He moved closer, lowered his voice to a confidential tone. 'You could say I was some kind of diplomat – not in the FO I hasten to say. A and B were at each other's throats. I'd be asked in to cool the fires. Get them to come to some agreement. I'd get a commission on the deal. Sounds like a Somerset Maugham character – a commission man. Not very nice. But when I'd saved them millions I reckoned I was worth a crust of bread. Knew a lot of the top people – went to their parties. Oil on the troubled waters and all that.'
`And now you are happy with Helen?'
For a moment Willie looked like a sphinx. He swallowed more wine, refilled his glass. He drank some more, then twiddled the stem.
`Helen is Helen. She likes managing things – including me, as I believe I once told you. Would you believe it – she never makes a mistake. I fumble about like a whale wallowing in a pond.' He chuckled. 'I'm lucky – Helen likes the country, you see. The New Forest enchants her.'
`If you don't mind, I'd better get to bed. Thank you for a lovely outing.'
`Do it again…'
When they had entered the bar at the Hilton Helen had led the way, clasping Newman's hand. Illumination was almost non-existent. They settled in a corner close together. The few other guests drinking were out of sight. Helen ordered a glass of Laurent Perrier and Newman asked for the same.
`Tell me about yourself, Mr Newman,' she invited, still clasping his hand.
`I'm Bob, and I'm going to call you Helen. Ladies first. I want to hear about you.'
`That makes a change. Most men gabble on about themselves. And I've noticed you listen to every word I say. A most attentive companion.'
> `Now, about yourself.'
`Oh, I'm that dreary old thing, a career woman…'
`Nonsense. You're not dreary. Old? That's a laugh. And these days it's the custom – a lot of women manage two jobs very well.'
The champagne arrived, Newman paid for it in cash, they clinked glasses. Helen sipped a little, put down her glass, sighed.
`You asked for it. Willie found me through an agency that specializes in secretary-housekeepers. He's easy to work for. Unlike Maurice, who must be pure hell. Before that I worked for a banker in Singapore. My little fling to see the world. Once was enough. It was so humid. All right inside cars, shops, hotels – air-conditioned. Hit the streets and they hit you. So I came back.'
`Parents?'
`Not any more. They died in a car crash. I wasn't close to them. Too independent-minded.'
She leaned close to him to slip off her shoes. He kissed her lightly on the cheek. Her grey eyes held his and she sipped more champagne.
`That perfume,' Newman said. 'I like it. Guerlain Samsara.'
`How clever of you to identify it. I wasn't too sure it suited me. Lee has a bottle, urged me to try it.'
`It suits your personality perfectly. By the way, what made the four of you come away together?'
`Willie's idea. He heard that the Brig. and Lee were coming here and said why don't we make it a foursome.'
`And how did the Brig. react to that?'
`I'm not sure. You never can be sure what he's really thinking. Willie didn't give him much option – except for an outright refusal. Since we're next-door neighbours I imagine even Maurice thought an objection would not go down well. On the other hand, I had a feeling that maybe he welcomed the idea. I think he's in the armaments business.'
`Think? You're not sure?'
`I'm never sure about anything with Maurice.'
She had released his hand a while ago. Now she wriggled herself more comfortably against the banquette. At the same time she crossed her legs and eased her pleated skirt up above her knees. Newman had the feeling that she wanted him to lay a hand on her knee. He kept it firmly holding his glass. She had very good legs.
`Maybe we could meet in London?' she suggested.
`I haven't any cards left,' he lied. can give you my phone number.'
In no time she had produced her notebook from her handbag. She held her fat fountain-pen poised. He gave her the number, but not his Beresforde Road address in South Ken.
`There's an answerphone if I'm out. Leave a message for me,' he suggested. 'And now I suppose we'd better hit the hay. Might see you in the morning.'
She stood up, eased her way out, paused for him to catch her up. Suddenly she turned round, clasped both hands round his neck, stroking it as she kissed him full on the mouth. As he followed her out he saw Paula standing in the entrance, her expression neutral.
`Damn!' he said under his breath.
Paula said good-night with undue pleasantness to Helen who disappeared inside an elevator. She looked at Newman.
`You're wearing the wrong shade of lipstick.'
23
Marler had decided to take a risk. It was very late, and sitting in his parked car, he'd seen no sign of life from the Bellevue Palace. He needed to clean up ready for the morning.
He took off his shabby windcheater, his beret, revealing his smart sports outfit underneath. Getting out of the car he opened the boot, shoved beret and windcheater inside, collected what he needed from his case, locked up the car.
He left two windows an inch or so down. The atmosphere inside was pretty fetid with the smoke from his king-sized cigarettes. An icy breeze was blowing in the right direction. Clad in his Aquascutum trench coat and clutching his shaving-kit case, he walked down the Avenue Louise, crossed to the Boulevard de Waterloo, entered the Hilton.
He mingled with a party of late-nighters just returning, smelt whiffs of alcohol, heard their none too sober conversation. He walked straight up to the reception and spoke to the man behind the counter.
`I've been driving non-stop for hours. I want to get a shower and clean up before I drive on to Ostend. I need a single room -which I'll pay for-for the night. Even though I'll only be there an hour…'
Paying in cash, he went to the elevator, stepped out at the right floor, used the blasted computer card – which he loathed – to open the door. Then he moved swiftly, stripping down, stepping into the shower, and towelling himself five minutes later.
He used his electric razor to remove the stubble from his face, put on the rest of his clothes. He checked his appearance in a long mirror. Now he looked quite different – even respectable.
Returning to the lobby, he ordered sandwiches and coffee. Eating everything, he drank the last drop of coffee, paying for the meal before he walked out again and returned to his parked car.
When he got behind the wheel the first thing he did was to feel under his seat. The Armalite rifle was still there. Using a copy of the Herald Tribune he had picked up in the Hilton, he spread sheets out over the weapon, further concealing it.
He then settled down to rest, but not to fall asleep: Marler could survive for forty-eight hours without one wink of real sleep. When morning came he was glad he'd taken the precautions of making himself look like a respectable tourist. Very glad indeed.
It was the middle of the night and Dr Wand was fast asleep when the phone rang. He woke instantly, switched on the bedside lamp, put on his pince-nez, glanced at his clock, and guessed who was calling. He picked up the receiver.
As he had expected it was long distance – from Hong Kong. The operator informed him Moonglow Trading amp; Mercantile were on the line. So it would be in the morning in Hong Kong, and urgent for them to call him at this hour. He identified himself and listened to the caller who spoke in English.
`Philip Cardon, did you say? Could you please repeat?' he asked after a short conversation which appeared to concern a business transaction.
`I see,' he continued after listening to a few more words. 'Here are my instructions. Kindly terminate Mr Cardon's contract. Yes, terminate. He is totally redundant…'
Having ordered the murder of another human being, Wand took off his pince-nez, placed them carefully on the table, switched off the light, and fell fast asleep.
Tweed paced slowly round his room as he spoke. Newman and Paula had both come to see him early in the morning after Helen Claybourne had disappeared inside an elevator. They had given Tweed a resume of their conversations with Helen and Willie. In return, Tweed had tersely reported his experience with Lee Holmes.
`It appears we still don't know the truth,' Tweed began, `but we do know one of those women is a liar.'
`You mean about the Guerlain Samsara,' Newman suggested.
`Exactly. Lee told me Helen had a bottle and had let Lee try some of the perfume. Helen said the exact opposite. That is sinister.'
`It means then,' Paula said grimly, 'that one of the two of them could be a murderess twice in one evening?'
`Exactly,' Tweed repeated. The victims being Andover and the cab driver found in Marolles. Presumably – if it was one of them – she injected the cabbie with cyanide to use his cab to drive to Liege, then brought it back here. It could be significant that it was abandoned a few minutes' walk from this hotel. Not conclusive – but why should one of them lie about the perfume?'
`And Willie and Burgoyne?' Newman asked.
`They could be liars too. Willie tells Paula it was his idea that the four of them came together to Brussels. Helen confirms this arrangement with Bob while talking in the bar. On the other hand Lee told me quite clearly it was Burgoyne's idea. So we don't know about that either.'
`Helen hinted to me,' Newman recalled, 'that Burgoyne is mixed up in arms deals. Sounds plausible – with his military background. And he seems to be loaded with money. It must come from somewhere.'
`I think the important thing is to concentrate on the two women,' Paula emphasized. 'You two had them on your own, so what impression d
id they make?' She looked at Tweed. 'I suppose Lee played the coquette with you madly?'
`As a matter of fact, she didn't. I was surprised – she isn't the dizzy blonde I'd imagined. She talked a lot of horse sense and has a native shrewdness. Lee can look after herself.'
`And Helen?' Paula asked Newman.
`She was like I expected her to be. A mature woman with her feet planted firmly on the ground.'
`You know,' Paula said, 'when we were all gathered round the poker game in the lounge I had the same impression I had when we visited them in the New Forest. That we were witnessing an elaborate charade put on for our benefit.'
`You mean that the four of them are in it together?' Tweed queried.
`Maybe. I'm not sure yet,' she said, frowning with concentration. 'But at least one of them isn't what he or she seems. I'm damned sure of that. And it's creepy – this idea that either Helen or Lee could be a three-time murderess. Hilary Vane, the cab driver in Marolles, and Andover.'
`You caught a glimpse of the driver who mowed down poor Andover,' Tweed reminded her. 'You seemed sure it was a woman wearing a crash helmet and goggles. Surely that cancels out Lee – with her long mane of blonde hair.'
`Which just shows how little men know about women. She could have worn her hair piled up on top of her head under the helmet. That doesn't cancel out Lee.'
`We've talked enough for one night,' Tweed decided. 'I suggest you all get off to bed now…'
It was the middle of the night when the phone woke Tweed. Earlier, on arrival in his room at the Hilton, he had made a brief call to Monica in London, giving her his hotel and room number. He switched on the light, picked up the phone, and it was Monica. She phrased her message carefully.
`Sorry to disturb you, but I've had a call from Cardon, our Far Eastern representative. From Bangkok. He's had a three-day holiday in Chengmai. He's flying home later today via the Persian Gulf. He'll be calling me before he boards his flight to give me his ETA.'
Tweed's blood ran cold. Chengmai. The Thai centre of drug distribution from the notorious Golden Triangle area. What on earth had drugs to do with this crisis? Nothing at all, he'd have thought.