Precipice

29

Brazil avoided the lift after leaving Tweed's room. He ran down the staircase, reached the lobby, crossed it to the secluded bar. As he had hoped, at that time of the year it was empty except for the barman and one customer. Craig.

'I'll have a Cointreau,' Brazil said to the barman. He laid a large banknote on the counter. 'I don't want any change but my friend and I have something confidential to discuss. Would you mind waiting in the lobby? You can see from there if any new customer comes into here.'

The barman had trouble not spilling the glass of Cointreau. His eyes were on the banknote.

'Thank you very much, sir. I'll be outside if you do need me.'

'Well,' said Craig as soon as they were alone, 'did he agree to come in with us?'

'No, regrettably. He refused.'

'Then he's for the chop.'

Craig wore a heavy overcoat and a white silk scarf. He had trouble concealing his satisfaction.

'Craig.' Brazil said quietly. 'If anything happens to Tweed I'll see you don't stay alive an hour. And the way you treat your henchmen it will be a pleasure for any of them to carry out my order.'

'OK.' Craig was shaken. He drank the rest of his Scotch quickly. 'I've got the message. But what about his team? They're going to get in the way. You can bet on that.'

'I fear you're right.'

'So I have your authority to eliminate the whole of his team off this planet?'

'Yes.' Brazil paused. 'I suppose it's the only sensible thing to do.'

'Right. You'll be waiting for your limo.' Craig took a mobile phone from his pocket, dialled, spoke briefly. 'Craig here. Come and get me. Work to do. Pack the car with troops…'

Standing at the corner where Bahnhofstrasse met the platz, Newman brushed snow off his trench coat. He never took his eyes off Marler, still standing on the station steps. Then he saw him stretch both arms as though weary.

The Volvo had appeared, began to cruise round the platz. Craig, standing in the hotel exit, walked a few feet up the street away from Newman. The Volvo, with three men inside, the driver and one man in front, a third man in the back, paused and Craig opened the rear door on the pavement side and slipped into the vacant seat.

Newman removed his scarf and hat, tucked them inside his coat, waited on the edge of the kerb. Craig saw him immediately, said something to the driver. The Volvo cruised slowly towards where Newman stood. At the same moment two men appeared, clad in black leather, wearing helmets, and walking towards the approaching car. One man banged on the back window.

Craig, confused, told the driver to stop. He was convinced that, without orders, two of his Leather Bombers had arrived. He lowered the window and Newman walked up to him.

'Not a nice evening, Craig.' Newman called out.

'Not for you. You're the first.' Craig snarled.

He reached down to the car floor, grabbed hold of a shotgun. The first of the two men clad in leather, Butler, produced a tear-gas pistol and fired into the back of the vehicle. At the same moment Nield, similarly clad, fired his own pistol across Butler's shoulder into the front of the car.

Choking, the driver panicked, pressed the accelerator as one of Zurich's blue trams, built like a tank, was turning to proceed down Bahnhofstrasse. Craig saw the huge shape looming up through streaming eyes. He grasped the door handle, threw the door wide open, rumbled onto the pavement, rolling so his shoulders took the fall like a paratrooper landing.

The Volvo continued its onward rush for only a few seconds. A few seconds too long. It collided into the massive tram. The car telescoped with the force of the impact. The three men inside disappeared, lost in the mess of crushed metal. The tram's passengers were shaken, but unhurt.

Craig staggered to his feet, dazed. He recovered, ran off in the opposite direction, vanished. On the pavement lay the shotgun Craig had been going to use. Newman nodded to Butler and Nield. They ran along the platz, turned down the quiet side-street where Tweed had walked earlier.

Tearing off their leather, they stuffed it with the helmets into a litter bin. Wearing normal business suits, they disappeared inside the Gotthard via the door leading into the Hummer Bar. Newman was already inside the lobby of the Schweizerhof, heading for the lifts.

'Hell of a crash outside.' he said to the concierge, who was moving towards the front door. 'Some drunken oaf drove into a tram – at least that's what I was told.'

He went straight to Tweed's room. Brazil, still in the bar, heard what he had said. He pursed his lips. If Craig had been involved he was becoming a liability. If he was still alive.

'I saw it.' Tweed said when he had let Newman into his room. 'So the war has really started.'

'Craig had a shotgun…'

'I know. I saw that, too. Lying on the pavement. I turned down Brazil's offer for me to work with him – in a partnership. Now, it can only be twenty minutes since Brazil left this room, and they've already tried to kill you. Brazil himself must have given the order. He is not only ruthless, he is brutal.'

Tweed sounded grimmer than Newman had experienced for a long time.

'What partnership?' he asked.

Tweed sat down, told him everything Brazil had said.

'It's strange.' Newman commented, sitting in another chair. 'But I find myself agreeing with some of what he thinks. Only some of it.'

'So did I.' agreed Tweed. 'And he didn't mention one more aspect of the global situation – although I'm sure he had it in mind. If Russia becomes strong again it provides a barrier against the Chinese, who grow more aggressive every day. They have now had successful tests at Lop Nor, launching intercontinental missiles with a range of over five thousand miles. That means those missiles could reach London – or the West Coast of the United States. Brazil has logic on his side, he can think globally, which few of our feeble politicians are able to. It's his methods I find repugnant. He would argue that is the only way to achieve a necessary change in the balance of world power.'

'So what do we do now?'

'Eliminate Brazil and all his works…'

Craig made his way back round the side streets until he came out in Bahnhofstrasse almost opposite the Baur-en-Ville. Entering the reception hall, he saw Eve coming towards him.

'Craig, I wanted to…"

'Drop dead.'

Craig marched on, surveying the visitors sitting and chatting over tea. He went up to a thin man with a dead white face and a bandage round the back of his head.

'Marco, come upstairs with me. We're going to have a conference in Brazil's board room – with Luigi. Move the feet.'

'Charming man,' Eve said to herself after he had insulted her.

Then she listened carefully. Above the subdued hum of the voices of the scattering of guests she heard every word he'd said to Marco. Eve had acute hearing and Craig, still in a rage, had raised his voice more than he had intended to. She watched them disappear into a lift, waited, then walked into an empty one.

She had turned the corner into the long corridor leading to her room when she stopped, stepped back a few paces. Jose was just entering Brazil's living room. Presumably Craig and his henchmen had already gone into the board room.

She went back to her own room but left the door ajar. She was still holding the fresh glass of vodka she had ordered from the bar when she had met Craig coming back off the street downstairs. She sipped it, standing close to the door.

A few minutes later she heard a door close. When she glanced out she saw Jose walking away in the opposite direction. She decided to take another chance. Collecting the stethoscope from the cupboard, she stuffed it inside her shoulder bag, left her room, walked back to Brazil's living room. She opened the door quietly, the glass of vodka, half-drunk, in her other hand. The room was empty. She tiptoed over to the closed sliding doors leading to the board room, put her glass on a ledge, took out her stethoscope, listened. Craig was speaking, his tone ugly.

'I repeat, only Tweed is not to be harmed. God knows why. But that is Brazil's personal instruction.'

'You said all this before.' Marco's voice protested.

'Shut your face! Listen. I am saying it again to get it into your thick heads. You are listening, Luigi?'

'With both my ears.'

'Don't get funny with me. Listen, damn you! Every member of Tweed's team is a target for extermination. That includes Paula Grey, Robert Newman, Philip Cardon, and, possibly, Bill Franklin. We leave Franklin alone until we have confirmation of his real status.'

'Excuse me,' Luigi said. 'But do they know about Sion?'

'I am coming to that. I said listen. There are two other members of Tweed's gang, identities unknown at the moment. They appeared in Bahnhofplatz late this afternoon dressed in black leather motorcyclist outfits. They also will be killed, when we know who they are. Any questions so far?'

'Do they know about Sion?' Luigi asked anxiously.

'I'm sure they don't. Even if they did they will never reach it. I now come to my plan. They will never leave Zurich alive. How do we guarantee that? By stationing a group at Kloten Airport, another one at the Hauptbahn-hof in case they attempt to leave by train. They will be gunned down. Make sure they are dead.'

'Supposing they drive out of Zurich?' persisted Luigi.

'All motorways will have motorcyclist teams ready for that contingency. Zurich will be sealed off.' Craig paused. 'As a final reserve, do you have motorcyclist teams at Sion, Luigi?'

'An elite team waits there

Eve slipped her stethoscope back into her shoulder bag. She was careful to remember her glass of vodka as she crept out of the room and returned to her own bedroom. She locked the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily with tension.

'So, that's more than enough.' she said to herself. 'And Craig's top three deputies are Marco, the expert knife-thrower, Luigi, who appears to be in charge of whatever is at Sion, and Gustav, crack shot with a handgun. I wonder why he wasn't there?'

Gustav entered the bar at the Schweizerhof to find Brazil checking his watch, looking annoyed. He looked up, saw Gustav, frowned.

Even men fear my face, Gustav thought. Even the top man.

He hurried forward, full of apologies for not arriving earlier.

'Jose has twisted his right ankle, which makes it tricky for him to drive. I have the limo waiting outside.'

'Then let's go immediately. And don't open the door for me. I hate fuss.'

Half an hour later the operator rang Newman in his room. 'I have a gentleman on the phone. He won't give a name. He says you know him well, that you last met him at a place called Kimmeridge. I made him spell that name. I hope I have pronounced it correctly.'

'You have. Put him through.'

'Mr Newman?'

Only two words spoken on the phone but Newman recognized the voice at once. Archie.

'Yes, speaking. Very good to hear your voice.'

'Mr Newman, I know where you are. I am speaking from a call box nearby. May I come to see you?'

'Of course, Mr Sullivan. The concierge will give you my room number.'

Archie had gone. He was quick enough to know he should announce himself as Mr Sullivan to the concierge. Newman felt sure that Tweed would wish to see him, but he went along to his room to check.

Tweed was surprised to hear Archie was in Zurich but he said he would certainly see him with Newman.

Tb this room, I suggest.' he went on. 'It's larger. So you had better instruct the concierge.'

Newman met Archie at the lift, said nothing until he had escorted him to Tweed's room. Tweed greeted him warmly, showed him to a comfortable chair, asked him if he'd like something to drink.

'Just water, please.'

Archie wore a heavy fur coat which he removed, his battered hat and, as usual, he had the dead stub of a half-smoked cigarette at the corner of his mouth.

'May I ask how you knew Bob was here?' Tweed enquired amiably.

'Simple. I phoned Monica at Park Crescent. She was very thorough in checking me out, then she gave me the number of this hotel. Gentlemen, you are in very great danger.'

'What kind of danger?' asked Tweed.

'You are to be spared. Brazil has ordered you are not to be harmed in any way.' Archie paused, switched his gaze to Newman. 'My informant has just told me that Craig, with Brazil's backing, has ordered his thugs to exterminate every member of Tweed's team, including yourself.' He looked back at Tweed. 'They have names. Paula Grey, Robert Newman, Philip Garden. They also know two other men exist but so far they have no names.'

'I see.'

Tweed stood up, thrust his hands into his jacket pockets to conceal the fact he was clenching and unclenching them to regain self-control. He was in a state of fury he rarely experienced. The idea that he was to be left alive while his team was wiped out filled him with venom. He walked round the room several times, then sat down opposite Archie.

'Is the word "exterminate" you used your own or, if you know, was it the word used by Craig?'

'Craig apparently used that exact word,' Archie replied, and took a sip of water from the glass Newman had given him.

'I see,' Tweed said again.

'The danger is grave,' Archie continued. 'My informant told me there will be teams of killers waiting at the airport, at the main station across the way, also teams of motorcyclists watching the motorways out of Zurich.'

'They've sewn us up pretty tightly,' Newman remarked.

Archie smiled, a warm smile. 'Now I must go.'

'How much do I owe you for your expenses and your fee?' Newman asked.

Two thousand francs for expenses. This time I do not want a fee. Marler is always very generous with me. And this time, bearing in mind the grave news I bring, I am glad to do you a favour.'

Newman took out his wallet, peeled off four thousand-franc notes, laid them on the table in front of Archie. He picked up two of the banknotes and left their twins.

'Do not embarrass me. I should go now.'

'This hotel may be watched.' Tweed warned. He stood up to go to the windows, realized the curtains had been closed. 'It will be dark outside.' he warned a second time.

'It was dark when I entered via the Bistro, the small snack restaurant open to the public with a door on to the street. I came in that way.' Archie explained. 'I shall go back that way, order a cup of coffee and wait until I see some girls leaving. I will leave with them, asking them in German how to get to the lake. When I arrived I came into the Bistro, as I have said, then I walked into the lobby by the door which leads into the hotel. Any watcher will have seen one man enter the cafe and the same man come out with a couple of girls. I am most careful.'

'Thank you for all your help.' Tweed said, standing up and escorting him to the door. 'You must take care of yourself. Wild animals are on the prowl.'

'Thank you. And do not forget Marchat in Sion.'

After Newman had returned from escorting Archie to the lobby, but without leaving the lift himself, he found Tweed pacing again.

'It looks as though we're trapped.' Newman commented.

'That is how it would appear.' Tweed replied.