By Stealth

22

Tweed, Paula, and Newman walked out of the elevator on the ground floor and headed straight for the poker- playing quartet. Burgoyne was just sitting down again in his chair. Tweed, threading his way between tables, caught his words.

`Sorry about the interruption. Could do without business calls at this hour. In any case, the game is over. Lee has cleaned us out.'

In front of Lee was the hand she'd displayed. A Royal Flush. Fanshawe jumped up, insisted that Paula took his chair. He began talking non-stop.

`What a coincidence. And what a pleasant one. Delighted to have your company. No, I'll get more chairs for our welcome guests. Yes, amazing coincidence. Last time it was the New Forest. Who'd have thought we'd have the pleasure of your company here in Brussels? Tweed, you sit here next to Lee. Rich woman. So just your cup of tea. You two will get on famously…'

Newman was helping Willie to bring more chairs. Tweed noticed Burgoyne hadn't stirred a muscle to give a hand. He introduced Newman to the party. Burgoyne then reacted with a barbed comment.

`The notorious foreign correspondent. Everyone will have to watch their words. We'll find ourselves reported in the national press.'

`I'm taking that as a joke.' Newman leaned forward towards the Brigadier. 'In case you hadn't heard, I retired.'

`So would I,' the Brigadier retorted, 'if I'd made the fortune you did out of that sensational bestseller you wrote. What was it now? Kruger: The Computer That Failed. Read it. Not bad. Must have made you a millionaire.'

`It depends on which currency you're talking about,' Newman countered.

`Why don't you two stop fencing and enjoy yourselves?' Lee remonstrated. 'This is supposed to be a fun party.'

`Then let's have some more to drink,' Burgoyne decided. 'More champagne?'

`Perfect,' Lee agreed. 'I have something to celebrate.'

`Then you ought to pay,' Burgoyne growled. He summoned a waiter with a beckoning gesture of his index finger. Just like summoning some poor squaddie in the officers' mess, Tweed thought. 'Two more bottles of Krug – same as last time,' Burgoyne specified.

Tweed took the opportunity to order ham sandwiches for three. And a glass of white wine for himself. He wanted a clear head for this gathering.

Paula was watching Lee. She had a pile of Belgian-franc notes in front of her. Methodically, she was sorting them into a neat pile. That girl likes money, Paula was thinking: there was an aura of pure delight in the way Lee handled the money, a considerable amount. She moved her chair closer to Tweed's, rested her bare arm against his sleeve. She turned to face him with a glowing smile.

`I'm paying for your order. Now, no argument. And when you've eaten please join me in a cognac.'

`Let's see how I feel later. It's a bit stuffy in here.' `Then if you feel like a breath of fresh air later I'll be glad to join you for a walk. To the Copenhagen Tavern.' `We might do that,' Tweed agreed amiably.

She was pressing her arm against his and he could feel the warmth of her body through his suit. Helen Claybourne had stood up, was collecting the cards, shuffling them into a pack. She paused next to Lee, bent down and picked something off her right shoe.

`A few bits of undergrowth and pine needles,' Lee remarked. 'Which I must have collected when I had a stroll in the Parc d'Egmont behind the hotel.' She looked at Tweed. 'That was before dinner with Willie at the Cafe d'Egmont. It's high-class coffee house, but the food is good.'

`It's better at the Baron de Boeuf on the first floor,' said Burgoyne. 'That's where you get a first-class meal.'

`At first-class prices,' Willie commented. Newman was reminded of a doleful St Bernard. 'Still,' Willie brightened up, 'we're all having one helluva time. I like nothing better than good company, good food. What else is there in the world?'

`Hard work.' The Brigadier grunted, tasted the Krug the waiter had poured. 'That'll do.'

Paula had her first chance to look at the shoes Lee was wearing. Sensible walking shoes. Which didn't go at all with the glamorous purple off-the-shoulder outfit.

Newman had moved his chair so he sat close to Helen Claybourne. Lee had blood-red nail-varnished fingernails, a colour he disliked intensely. Looked as though she'd dipped her fingers in blood. As a contrast, Helen's slim strong-looking fingers were varnished a pale pink. She turned to him and her grey eyes held his unblinking.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lee stroking back her blonde mane so she could see Tweed clearly. Again a contrast: Helen sat quite still, her hands clasped in her lap, still staring at him with the hint of a smile.

`Are you enjoying all this?' he asked her quietly.

`I am now. I've read quite a bit about you in magazine profiles. I'd imagine you're a very resourceful man – someone a woman could depend on in an emergency. Which is more than you can say for most men nowadays.'

With any other woman it would have sounded like flattery. But Helen made it sound like a simple statement she believed. They clinked glasses and she gave him her half-smile again.

I'm not doing very well tonight, Paula thought. Lee appears to have Tweed in the palm of her hand. Newman can't take his eyes off Helen. I must be losing my touch. Willie seemed to sense her feeling of isolation. Turning to her, he clinked his glass with hers, beaming at her.

`You must have had the appetite of a lady who hasn't eaten for weeks. The way you devoured those sandwiches. I know a rather nice little restaurant just up the boulevard. The Copenhagen Tavern. It has a bar. Why don't we go up there, get away from this lot?'

`I'd love to – and thank you, Willie. But it's been a long day. Maybe tomorrow..

She was watching Lee who had twisted round in her chair. She was straightening Tweed's tie. Willie glanced in the same direction, then went on chatting.

`Tell you what. There are some pretty good exhibitions on at the moment. Helen,' he called out, 'hope I'm not interrupting. I wonder if you could find out all the exhibitions on in town early tomorrow, give me a list?'

Helen produced a notebook from her handbag. Newman kept quiet as she produced her expensive fountain-pen, took off the top, make a note.

`Consider it done,' she assured Willie.

`That's a nice pen,' Newman remarked. fountain-pens are coming back into fashion. And it suits your neat handwriting.'

Pile it on, Bob, Paula thought. Helen was playing with the fat pen, made a movement as though to show it to Newman, then dropped it back inside her bag.

`It was a present from my favourite uncle. I guard it with my life…'

Tweed seemed totally absorbed by Lee. She took out her jewelled cigarette holder, inserted a cigarette, and put the holder between her lips. She made no attempt to light it and Tweed, a non-smoker, produced the lighter he always carried. Igniting it, he leant forward. Lee snatched the holder out of her mouth away from him.

`Sorry. I'm giving up smoking. I do this as a test of will power. So far I haven't lit a cigarette for over four weeks.'

`Damn silly idea,' Burgoyne commented. 'Just don't buy any cigarettes. These pseudo-psychological methods never work. I suppose that crank doctor you consulted suggested it.'

`Maurice,' Lee said sweetly, 'why don't you mind your own damned business?'

`And are you here on business, Brigadier?' Tweed asked, seizing on the opening.

`Yes. What about you?' Burgoyne barked.

`The answer is yes,' Tweed said slowly. 'In my capacity as Chief Claims Investigator for my insurance company. I am actually investigating a particularly grim kidnapping.'

Was it his imagination or had a sudden hush descended on the party? Paula, who had pushed her chair back, was in a better position to see everyone. She could have sworn someone froze for a second. The trouble was she couldn't identify who it was.

`Anyone we know?' Burgoyne asked eventually.

`I would assume probably not,' Tweed replied in the same slow tone. 'And I am close to my target.'

`I'm going to bed,' the Brigadier announced abruptly, and stood up. 'The rest of you can chatter the night hours away.'

On this polite note he left them. Lee insisted that she and Tweed walked up the boulevard to the Copenhagen Tavern. Willie turned to Paula as Lee went to fetch a coat.

`Now you are going to join me for a nightcap. We can get one just up the street at Les Arcades. You'll like it. Quite atmospheric. Be a devil, say yes.'

`I'll get my own coat,' Paula agreed immediately. At least someone was showing interest in her. 'Won't be a tick…'

Helen waited until she was alone with Newman before she made the suggestion. Facing him, she fiddled with a brooch under her mandarin collar, her grey eyes staring straight into his.

`If you feel like it, we could slip into the bar over there and have a quiet drink and a chat. Get to know each other better.'

`Then why are we still sitting here?' Newman asked, and gave her a warm smile.

Tweed didn't let on to Lee that he was familiar with the Copenhagen Tavern. At that time of night there were only a few customers – some finishing a meal, others sitting over drinks.

A spacious establishment, it had an intimate atmosphere – largely created by the fact that the walls were lined with brown cloth, combined with subdued lighting from brass wall sconces supporting brown shades.

Tweed guided Lee to the back of the split-level room, avoiding the steps leading up to a large alcove on the right. He chose one of three empty tables at the back of the room with brown banquettes against the wall. Lee slipped round the table on to the banquette, tapped the space beside her. Tweed took off his coat, walked round the other end, perched the coat on the banquette between Lee and where he sat. She stripped off her coat, folded it carefully, placed it on top of his and pushed the pile towards him. Then she eased herself closer.

To his surprise she ordered a glass of dry French white wine when the waitress came and he followed suit.

`I'm floating in champagne,' she confessed in a husky voice. 'God! The Brigadier is a pain in the proverbial.'

`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.'