Rhinoceros

CHAPTER 25

On the day Tweed was driven to Millionaires' Row, in London Gavin Thunder stood in his Whitehall office and gave orders to Montagu Carrington, the aide who had replaced Jeremy Mordaunt.

'You will, nominally, be in charge while I am away. I am flying abroad on holiday for five days. Try not to make too big a mess of things in my absence.'

The heatwave was intensifying and Thunder wore tropical kit. His sharp features seemed even more pronounced, as though he was in a state of tension. His temper was on a short fuse.

'A sudden decision, sir,' commented Carrington, a pale-faced man in his thirties who regarded himself as a high flier. 'May I ask where you are going so I can contact you?'

'You damned well may not. How can I get a quiet holiday if people like you are bothering me? My destination is both private and secret. Has your thick head grasped that?'

'I can at least arrange for a limousine to drive you to the airport…'

'You bloody well won't. I'm driving myself. Got it?'

Carrington, clad in a grey suit quite unsuitable for the weather, frowned. He shifted his feet.

'You are a Minister, sir. You should at least have two bodyguards wherever you are going. Somewhere hot?'

'I know I'm a Minister, you idiot. Has anyone ever told you that you're like a mangy dog which keeps on chewing its bone?'

'No, sir, they haven't…'

'Well, I'm telling you now.' Thunder's mouth was tight, his eyes impaled Carrington's. 'No bodyguards. No limousine. No nothing. Shall I write it down for you?'

'Not necessary, sir.' Carrington had been told wrongly that as a civil servant it was important to stand up to a Minister. 'Supposing there's an emergency while you're away,' he suggested in a subdued voice.

'An emergency!' Thunder exploded. 'In that case I would have thought your reaction was obvious. Clearly it isn't. You pass it straight to the PM,' he roared. Then his tone became casual. 'If I have any more of your foolish chatter when I return you will be fired. You may be anyway when I get back. Now get out of my room!'

Alone, he unlocked a cupboard, took out his packed case, left the room. He departed by a back entrance, got into the parked modest Ford car waiting for him, drove off.

Aware that his appearance was well-known, due to the many times he had blasted inerviewers out of the water on TV – a popular act with the public – on his way to Heathrow he parked in a deserted side street. It took him only a moment to perch a Jewish skullcap on his head, concealing his hair. He checked his fake passport in the name of Rosen, then strapped a dark patch over his left eye. Checking himself in the rear-view mirror, he decided he was unrecognizable, drove on to the airport.

After passing through the controls he looked at the monitor. His flight would be leaving in fifteen minutes. His flight to Hamburg.

'I saw Marler while I was walking with our host in the park behind the mansion,' Tweed remarked as Newman headed back for the hotel. 'I thought it was a shadow, then, as he was vanishing, I recognized his walk.'

'He takes good care of you,' Paula told him.

'The odd thing was I couldn't see any guards at first. A man like that would have guards, I thought. Then I noticed a couple of gardeners. One of them was bent over and his bolstered gun was exposed.'

'Incidentally,' Newman called out from behind the wheel, 'Marler and Nield are only a little way behind us in the Opel.'

'How did Rondel's partner strike you? 'Paula asked. 'Would you trust him?'

'I can't say that, one way or the other. We were talking about the present state of chaos. He mentioned strong government being needed. I responded by recalling Hitler, Mussolini and Stalin. His reaction was ambiguous.'

'You mean he approved of those three terrible dictators?'

'In one way he seemed to, but I did say he was ambiguous. He wants me to meet him again. He said he had his headquarters in the far north. That could mean north of Hamburg or even further north. Scandinavia.'

'He doesn't tell you much,' she observed.

'He's a very wily man. Oh, Rondel's real name is Blondel – had a French father, a German mother. Milo explained it was vanity, that Blondel is conscious of his blond hair.'

'So,' she mused, 'I'd better be careful if I meet him again. To call him Rondel, not Blondel. Safer if I just use Victor.'

'You rather like him, don't you?' Tweed suggested.

'He's a charmer.'

'I always did mistrust them. Maybe because I lack charm myself.'

Tweed had lunch in the Condi with Lisa, Paula and Newman. He sensed that Lisa was ill at ease, although she chattered quite animatedly to Paula. They were having lunch when the Brig appeared. He dragged a chair over to their table.

'Mind if I sit with you?'

'You are doing.' Tweed smiled. 'And welcome too. You do look serious.'

Paula thought Tweed was right. The Brig, clad in khaki drill, looked grim. It seemed to her that his hawk-like face was even larger, more ferocious than when she'd last seen him. They had reached the coffee stage and the Brig said he'd like some too. He remained oddly silent until coffee had been served.

'You've heard there was a fatal shooting outside here late last night?' he said suddenly.

'We have,' said Tweed.

'I saw the body when I was coming back from a walk. I may have been the first person to see the corpse. Head blown clean off.'

'We know,' Tweed said, annoyed at the brutal description when Paula and Lisa were present.

'I called the police.' He paused. 'I thought what was left of him looked like one of your people.'

'It was.'

'Might be wiser if you went back home. Hamburg has become a dangerous place.'

'Coming from you I find that suggestion surprising. Since you were in the Army you must have seen worse in the way of casualties.' Tweed leaned forward. 'Much worse. So why are you so anxious that we should leave Hamburg?'

'Anxious?' The Brig drank some of his coffee. 'I'm never anxious. But what was lying on the pavement did rather hint that Hamburg is – or may be – not a healthy city for any of you.'

'I'm fairly experienced in unhealthy situations,' Tweed said in the same even tone.

'You are. But what about the ladies here?'

'What about them?' snapped Paula. 'I don't wish to sound callous but it goes with the territory.'

'Very dangerous territory,' the Brig told her.

'Just how dangerous?' enquired Tweed. 'Maybe you could tell us, since you seem to be on the inside track?'

'I'm just here on business.' He stood up. 'Must go now…'

Newman had been studying their guest. He waited until he had left the Condi.

'That was very odd. The way he spoke it was almost as though he was giving us orders. I didn't like it.'

'I didn't like him,' Lisa said. 'Back at Barford Hall down in Sussex he was the soul of courtesy. He's like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Today Mr Hyde was in control. I'd been in the lounge when I saw you coming in and joined you for lunch. It's sweltering. I'm going up to my room for a shower. Thank you for the lunch – and your company.. .'

'Changing the subject,' Paula began, 'at least Rondel's partner didn't urge us to leave town. Just the opposite, he suggested you must meet again, didn't he, Tweed?'

'Yes, he did. I'm wondering why Mrs France wants to see me. Milo told me she was his chief accountant.'

'Milo?' Paula queried. 'That's the second time you've used that weird name.'

'It's what Rondel's partner suggested I call him.'

'Sounds Balkan,' Newman commented.

'He did say he was from Slovenia. Remote country.'

'And difficult to check someone out coming from there. You think he could be Rhinoceros?'

'My best bet for Rhinoceros is the Brig,' Paula suggested.

Gavin Thunder had arrived inside his suite at the Atlantic. Earlier, after disembarking from the flight, he had slipped into a lavatory, locked himself in a cubicle, and removed the skullcap and eyepatch. He had then walked through Passport Control, had stuffed the skullcap and the eyepatch in a rubbish bin. He had never appeared on German TV, nor had his picture been printed in the newspapers, so recognition was unlikely.

He took a taxi to the Atlantic Hotel, registered as A. Charles, was escorted to his suite. Once alone, he checked the time. His visitor should arrive soon. He poured himself a stiff Scotch from the drinks cabinet, looked round, decided that he would dominate the discussion best if he sat in a high-backed chair behind an antique escritoire.

He then decided he would dress in a more formal lightweight suit to emphasize who was in control. He moved quickly, remembered to attach the reverse letter 'E' symbol to the inside of the jacket's lapel. He had just sat down again when there was a heavy hammering on the door. He called out.

'Come.'

Oskar Vernon entered, wearing an orange shirt and a fawn suit. The fact that he wore his jacket unbuttoned at the front emphasized his weight. Thunder stared at his outfit as his visitor closed the door, then surveyed the suite.

'You're pretty conspicuous in that wild shirt,' Thunder observed critically.

'Ah! It is a double bluff. Staying in a hotel, people see me at first. But soon they get used to the sight and I am hardly noticed. A matter of psychology.'

'Sit down, then. We haven't got all day.'

'We have indeed got all the rest of the day if we needed it.'

Oskar was not a man easily intimidated. He had already noticed how Thunder had positioned himself. He was invited to sit in a low chair placed in front of the desk. He selected another high-backed chair from against the wall, carted it over, shoving the lower chair aside. Sitting down he crossed his long fat legs, gave a beaming smile.

'The problem.' Oskar announced, 'is Tweed. He is here and has based himself in the Four Seasons Hotel, roughly a mile closer in to the city…'

'I know that,' Thunder interrupted. 'Delgado phoned me at my home. We have to deal with him – permanently and immediately. We must make preparations…'

'They are already in the process of being made.' Oskar's tone was lofty. 'To eliminate him and his team.'

'How many in the team?' Thunder snapped, feeling he was losing control.

'That we don't know, have no idea. But Delgado has twenty men, which should be more than enough to do the job.'

'I would certainly hope so.'

'It will be simple and easy,' Oskar assured him.

'You think so?' Thunder leaned across his desk, lost control. 'Now listen to me, you complacent buffoon. Tweed is very clever, very experienced, very dangerous.' He raised his voice. 'So you make damned sure he doesn't come back alive.'

'You are tense,' Oskar replied calmly. He folded his arms over his ample chest. 'Tension causes a man – or a woman – to make bad mistakes. You must remain calm. Incidentally, they may never find the bodies.'

'That would be the best solution.'

'I thought you would like that.' Oskar gave his beaming smile again. 'And you will never again insult me by using that word "buffoon". Never! You have understood that?'

'I heard you.' Inwardly Thunder was struggling for control. He had to remember he was not back home now. 'So now can we talk about the arrangements?'

289'I was just about to explain them. You stay in this hotel at all times. You do not go outside. You will travel to your destination, the island of Sylt, by helicopter…"

'I never travel in them.'

'You will this time. Or you will not go. It is a large machine which will fly from a remote part of the airport. A taxi will call for you. The driver's name is Thomas. The other four members…'

Oskar paused and Thunder was appalled. Surely Oskar wouldn't know about the Elite Club, about who belonged to it?

'Members?' Thunder croaked.

"The other four members of the party will arrive in separate taxis close to the machine. It will fly you to a secret airfield close to Sylt. From there you will board a train which will take you across the embankment to your rendezvous. It could be tomorrow or the day after.'

Oskar stood up, straightened his jacket. Then he replaced his high-backed chair by the wall and put the small chair in front of the desk.

'Is that all?' asked Thunder.

'Isn't it enough?' Oskar enquired and left the suite.