This United state

30

At about seven in the evening Paula was wandering around the hotel on her own. She wanted to see what, if anything, was going on.

'There are two hostile elements in this place,' she said to herself. 'Ed Osborne and Denise Chatel. On someone's instructions – maybe Ronstadt's – Denise made up that story about a so-called meeting on the Minotaur to lure us into the trap. When the barge exploded we'd all be killed.'

She had descended from the second floor and started walking down the corridor on the first floor. Suddenly a door further along opened, Denise came out of Tweed's room, turned to say something and closed the door. She walked towards Paula with a blank look. Then she walked straight past her as though. she didn't exist.

'What the hell's going on now?' Paula said to herself. The hotel was strangely quiet and there was no one else about. She continued prowling. Downstairs there was no one in the lobby and the restaurant wasn't open yet. She opened the door to the writing room, peered inside. No one there. She went back upstairs to see Tweed.

For a moment she thought the same scene was being replayed – like a film turned back and then run forward again. The door to Tweed's room opened, Sharon came out, turned to say something, then closed it. She began to walk in her elegant way towards Paula.

'Just the person I was hoping to see,' Sharon greeted her with a warm smile as she stopped. 'I'm organizing a small dinner in the restaurant here this evening. Bob Newman and Tweed have agreed to be my guests. I'd like you to be there.'

'Well…'

'Don't think about it, just say yes.' Sharon smiled more radiantly, her green eyes holding Paula's. 'Take pity on me. One woman and two men doesn't work. I'll be out-gunned. You can give me moral support. Please!'

'I'd love to come. Thank you so much.'

'Eight o'clock. he the main restaurant – not the Brasserie next door to it.'

'I'll be there.'

Paula watched her walk away. Sharon almost glided, her figure erect, the waves of blonde hair just touching the top of her shoulders. Then she was gone. Paula frowned, then remembered a friend who had told her she'd develop creases in her forehead. Turning round, she went to Tweed's door, tapped on it, he called out, 'Come in.'

'It's just me. I was passing so thought I'd see how you were.'

'I'm fine. You know I like to get ready for a meal in good time. A little while ago Sharon phoned me, invited Bob and me to have dinner with her tonight. Here in the hotel, bless her – considering what it's like outside.'

He'd put on his best suit, a blue bird's-eye. Now, seated on a couch, he was bent over, buffing his shoes. He seemed very relaxed.

'I've just bumped into Sharon in the corridor,' she said, perching on the arm of the couch. 'She's invited me to join the dinner party. I accepted.'

'I'm glad. That makes us a foursome. You know something? Apart from Sharon's call a while ago that phone hasn't rung once. Peace and quiet. It seems a novelty.'

'I think I'd better go to my room and get changed. Competing with Sharon takes some doing.'

'Oh, I don't know. You always look so perfectly turned out.'

'Thank you, sir.'

She bent down, kissed him lightly on the cheek, then left as she checked her watch.

She'd had a bath earlier but decided she'd have a quick shower.

They kept it very warm in the hotel. She was on her way to the bathroom when she paused before a large wall mirror. She looked at her dark, glossy hair, her large blue-grey eyes, her thick brows, her well-shaped features, her good complexion.

'I'm a brunette, Sharon is a blonde,' she said aloud. 'What is it about that lady which makes her so striking? I'll study her over dinner. No! Admit it – you're an envious witch.'

There was a knock on the door. When she unlocked it Newman was standing outside. She invited him in with a smile. He had on his best suit and a brand-new tie she hadn't seen before, a Valentino. How was Sharon able to mesmerize such different men?

'I just called in to let you know Sharon has asked

Tweed and me to dinner at the restaurant downstairs.' 'She's just asked me to join the party. I said I would.' 'That's great, really great. I was getting bothered you'd feel left out when you saw us.'

'That was nice of you, Bob. Now you can stop getting bothered.'

'I rather think you'll be changing, so I'm holding you up.'

'That's all right. But I was about to dive into the shower.'

'Then I'll leave you to it.'

'Bob, just before you go. Have you noticed Tweed often seems to know what's going on in the enemy's mind? Calls it his sixth sense.'

'Yes, I have.'

'Well, I think he has an agent inside the American camp.'

Newman headed for the ground floor after he'd left Paula. Unusually for him, he stopped for a moment to check his appearance in a mirror on the corridor wall. It was seeing Windermere's Valentino tie, when they had a drink in the bar, which had caused Newman to dig out his own new tie. He walked downstairs, looked in the lobby, wished he'd stayed in his room. Seated by himself at a table overlooking the river was Rupert Strangeways.

'I say, Newman, do trot over and join me for a drink. A chap gets lonely, don't you know.'

'And what brings you to Basel?' Newman asked as he sat down.

He had been told by Tweed what Sir Guy had said, but he wanted to see whether the stories of father and son tallied. Rupert waved a commanding hand.

'First things first. A waiter chappie is coming. What's your tipple?'

`I'll have a double Scotch, no ice.'

I'm going to need it to get through this, he thought. Rupert, heavily in debt, wore an expensive dark smoking jacket, a pair of dark trousers with a razor-edged crease, a crisp white shirt and a polka-dot bow tie. Newman had always mistrusted men who sported bow ties.

'Mine is a very dry martini, shaken, not stirred,' Rupert ordered with a dry smile. 'I was always a follower of James Bond,' he told Newman when the waiter had gone. 'Poor joke, I know. Maybe I'll sparkle after a few drinks.'

`I think I asked you what brings you to Basel.'

'You most certainly did. Amazing memory you have.' Rupert grinned. 'I'm not being sarcastic. Meant to be a joke. Not doing very well, am I?'

'You'll liven up. I'm listening.'

'Pater put on his military uniform, in a manner of speaking. Told me to come with him. The idea, I'm sure, was to keep me out of mischief. And here I was, waiting for a pair of gorgeous female legs to appear, and what happens? You turn up. Again, no offence meant.'

'None taken. I had a drink with. Basil earlier. I suppose that he came along for the free ride.'

'You've got it.' Rupert snapped his fingers, grinned wolfishly. 'Literally.'

'I think I missed something there.'

'Pater's paying for all Basil's expenses, including the air ticket. The idea is I need someone to keep an eye on me. Basil was elected.'

'As a nursemaid,' Newman joked.

'Can't say I- find that tremendously funny. Comes from being one of those reporter chappies, I suppose. They all develop a rather weird sense of humour. Of course you made a mint out of that huge best-selling book you wrote, Kruger: The Computer That Failed. I've met reporters who failed – ended up behind some crummy desk sub-editing other people's stories. On a clerk's pay.'

'So what are you going to do when you get back home?'

'I rather fancy the idea of becoming manager of a mutual fund.'

Newman could hardly believe his ears. He had never heard Rupert talk like this before. He'd always thought the prospect of doing a proper job had never occurred to him. That was for the peasants.

'I'm surprised,' he said.

'Thought you might be, old boy. Oh, is the divine Paula about?'

'Yes, she is.' Newman became wary. 'She's very booked up now. Tonight she's having dinner with a party of us. Think I'd better make a move.' Newman reached for the bill the waiter had left so he could sign it. 'I'll handle this.'

'No, you won't.' Rupert's hand grabbed the bill. 'I invited you for a drink.'

Newman got up to go. He had left the table when Rupert called out to him. He swung round and Rupert was smiling sardonically.

'Bob. Give my love to Paula when you see her…'

Jack Ronstadt sat at the head of the long table in his suite at the Euler. He was in a towering rage. He spoke very quietly, which alarmed everyone sitting with him. They knew when he was quiet it was a very bad sign.

'You bombed,' he began, using the American expression for falling flat on your face. 'First, four of our guys are blown to hell by a grenade. Second, Rick Sherman, sent to torture information out of the Irina crone before he breaks her stupid neck, ends up with a knife in his throat.' He looked round at the tense faces. 'Any more contributions? What about yon, Vernon?' he asked the thin man.

'Well, Chief…' Vernon cleared his throat. 'Guess you're talkin' about the barge.'

'You're goddamn right I am.' His fist crashed down on the table. 'I put you in charge of organizing what should have been the end of Tweed and his mob. What friggin' happens?'

'It kinda didn't work out…'

'Kinda?' Ronstadt was going full throttle now. 'Don't mess with me. It was a friggin' catastrophe.'

He bunched his fist. It moved so quickly no one saw what was coming. The large fist connected with Vernon's jaw. He fell over backwards, taking his chair with him, lay sprawled on the floor. Vernon kept his eyes lowered, concealing hatred welling up inside him. He clambered to his feet, lifted up the chair, resumed his place at the table.

Ronstadt's expression was passive, as if nothing had happened. He had hit his subordinate with only half his strength. If he had really hit him Vernon's jaw would have been broken – and he needed Vernon.

'So we move on,' he continued quietly. 'First thing tomorrow Vernon and Brad are turning in all our cars. They're gettin' vehicles with snow tyres for us. There's been a big snowfall in the Black Forest. My idea is we leave tomorrow night. I do mean in the middle of the night. We collect a big cargo waitin' at the base. It has to reach Britain very fast.' He smiled for the first time. 'Any questions?'

There was silence. No one felt like opening their mouths after witnessing the punishment meted out to Vernon-Ronstadt sighed. He started shuffling the pack of cards he'd picked up.

'Some smart guy might have asked, "What about weapons?" '

'What about weapons?' Vernon asked obediently.

'Vernon, you'se comin' on.' Ronstadt reached out a hand, grasped Vernon's shoulder, squeezed it in a friendly way. 'You'll make it yet. Tomorrow mornin' all weapons and explosives left are to be dumped in the Rhine. That officer at the checkpoint close to the autobahn is a nosy bastard. When we're on the way, across the border, a car from base will meet us with more weapons. Don't no one go to bed tonight. I may call another meeting middle of the night. After I've contacted Charlie, got the OK…'

Paula was ready early for the dinner. In her room she began thinking about Denise Chatel. It struck her Denise was lonely. She might be upset if she saw the dinner party to which she had not been invited. She picked up the phone, spoke to the operator.

'Could you put me through to Denise Cheers room, please.'

'Sorry. I can't do that. Ms Chatel has checked out.' 'Checked out? What do you mean?'

'She asked me to have her car brought to the entrance about three-quarters of an hour ago. Then she checked out. Left the hotel.'

'Did she leave any forwarding address?'

'No, she didn't.'

'Thank you.'

Paula hurried along to Tweed's room. He opened the door and she waited until she had sat down. She was feeling stunned. Normally she was quick when it came to working out relationships between people. Now her mind was circling round at speed like a whirlpool.

'I've just heard that Denise Chatel has checked out of here,' she announced.

'When?' Tweed rapped out.

'Over three-quarters of an hour ago. Had her car brought to the entrance, then she was off.'

'Any idea where to?'

'None at all. She didn't leave a forwarding address. Tweed, I just don't know what's going on any more.' 'Have some more coffee…'

'No! I don't want any more coffee. I'm up to here with it. And I think you're drinking too much of the stuff. Caffeine sets your nerves on edge.'

Tweed sat down in a chair opposite her. As he poured himself another cup he glanced across at her, then concentrated on what he was doing. Sitting back, he sipped at his cup.

'I'm sorry,' said Paula. 'That outburst was very rude. Don't know what's got into me.'

'Too much coffee,' Tweed said with a smile. He put down his cup. 'Newman and Marler will be arriving in a minute. I want a word with them before our dinner. And I want to tell them while you're here. It's important you're fully in the picture. I'm not surprised you felt confused. So did I – until I realized certain people are feeding me. with smokescreens. Verbal camouflage is a better description. They're trying to conceal from me who is who – and what is really about to happen.'

'I feel better. I thought it was me.'

She had just finished speaking when Newman and Marler came in. Paula decided to speak up first when she saw Marler. He stood against a wall, lit a king-size.

'Marler,' she said, 'Denise checked out of the hotel less than an hour ago. Drove off by herself…'

'What?'

It was rare to be able to gauge his reactions from his expression. Now he looked staggered, mystified.

'She didn't leave a forwarding address. So we have no idea where she's gone, why she left so suddenly, anything.'

'And she didn't say a word to me. Don't understand it.'

'There may be quite a simple explanation,' Tweed interjected. He looked at Marler. 'Paula, Bob and I are having dinner with Sharon downstairs this evening. I'd like everyone to leave this to me,' he warned. 'At a suitable moment I'll bring up the news about Denise. Incidentally, I shall be playing a power game, so don't be surprised when I say something odd to our hostess. My objective now is to disturb the enemy. I think I can use Sharon without her realizing it.'

'Shouldn't we pass on this strange business about Denise to Pete Nield and Harry Butler?' Marler suggested.

'I was going to ask you to do just that. At the moment they're testing out the new Audis with their snow tyres. I had an interesting chat, by the way, with Ed Osborne down in the lobby.'

'You must have enjoyed that,' Paula commented.

He apparently let slip that soon he's moving on to Freiburg at the edge of the Black Forest. He even gave me the name and the address of the hotel he'll be staying at. The Schwarzwalder Hof.' He looked at Paula. 'Before dinner could you phone up the place, book rooms for all of us? I've scribbled details of the hotel and its address on that pad over there.'

'Book rooms? In our own names?'

'Yes. Exactly. Tell them we may arrive tomorrow, but they're to. hold the rooms until we do arrive. We'll pay for them even if they're unoccupied for a day or two.'

'Is this a good idea,' Paula questioned, 'all of us in the same hotel in the Black Forest area?'

'Yes. I think we'll need as heavy a force close together as we can muster.'

'Before I forget,' Newman began, 'I had a drink with what sounded like a reformed Rupert..

He went on to describe his conversation with Rupert Strangeways. They all listened with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. As he finished Paula burst out.

'Do you believe a word of this? Rupert getting himself a proper job? The mind boggles.'

'It could be,' Newman speculated, 'that Rupert wants to get into his father's good books. After all, Sir Guy is a millionaire.'

'What do you think?' Paula asked Tweed.

'I don't think anything.'

'Going back to Osborne,' Newman said, 'you used the words "he apparently let slip" when you told us about Freiburg, the hotel he's staying at, the address. Did it occur to you he might have deliberately told you this?'

'Indeed, it did.'

'Then I vote that Paula does nothing about booking rooms in the hotel he mentioned.'

'Sorry, Bob, you're outvoted. By me. I want Paula to do what I requested.'

'I don't understand it.'

'I thought I'd made myself quite clear.'

'It's a trap,' Newman told him vehemently.

'So we walk into their trap.'

When Tweed, Paula and Newman arrived in the dining room Sharon was already waiting for them at a table by a window. There were place cards and Tweed sat next to Sharon by the aisle. Paula's card put her by the other window, facing Sharon with Newman alongside her.

'I think we're dead on time,' Tweed had greeted his hostess.

'Dead on time,' Sharon agreed with a smile.

'Don't use that phrase,' Paula whispered under her breath.

Only Newman heard her. He realized Paula was tense, on edge. Outwardly she was the model of composure. She smiled at Sharon.

'I think your ensemble is one of the smartest I've seen this season.'

'Thank you, Paula. That is generous of you.' She looked at two waiters who had arrived. 'Let's get the party going. What are you all going to have for aperitifs?'

As they ordered Paula found herself studying Sharon, despite her previous determination not to. She wore an emerald-green dress with a high collar. Round her slim waist was a gold belt. It was all perfect. She sat very erect, very much in control of herself but without a trace of arrogance.

She exudes an air of complete calm, Paula thought. She moved her head constantly, but slowly. Her green eyes also swept the table slowly and Paula had the impression she was taking in every little detail about her guests. She didn't fiddle with her magnificent mane, as so many women do. Her white, beautifully moulded face would attract the attention of almost any man the first moment he saw her. But there was not a hint of flirting with the men as she chatted in her very English accent.

'I propose a toast,' Tweed said, raising his glass and turning towards Sharon. 'To our hostess, Sharon, one of the most remarkable women in the world.'

'I'll second that,' Newman said instantly.

'I'm going to blush,' Sharon replied, then sipped her drink. 'I've dined with Heaven knows how many people in America,' she went on, 'but I haven't, until tonight, been honoured with a group of such talent and dynamism.' She looked straight at Paula. 'And what I have just said very much includes you.'

'Thank you. I fear you exaggerate,'

'No. It is the Americans who exaggerate.'

Paula had listened carefully to Sharon when she Was speaking in her soft voice. She had also been watching her. As far as she could tell Sharon spoke with absolute sincerity. It was at this moment that Newman said something Paula thought would ruin the pleasant, relaxed 'atmosphere.

'I imagine you should know, Sharon. About exaggeration. After all, you have been married to four Americans.'

'Oh yes, I have.' Sharon broke into peals of laughter. Then she concentrated on Newman, her wide mouth smiling. 'It would be you, Bob, who brings up the subject of my adventures – experiments is a better word – with four American husbands. I was very young when I was first taken to the States. I was dazzled Then after a year I realized I couldn't stand my husband. Always boasting about his big deals, running after other women. I left it to my lawyer to arrange the divorce settlement. I was staggered when he told me what he was going to get me. It was then it dawned on me.'

'What did?'

'Bob, do go ahead and have a cigarette.'

Paula realized that Sharon had noticed Newman reach for a packet in his pocket, then think better of it. He nodded, took out the pack and lit a cigarette.

'What did?' Sharon repeated. 'It dawned on me that in America the only people looked up to are the rich. So I thought, if this is the game over here, I'll play it. I was still very young. I had been elevated by my first husband into the world of country clubs, top hotels, Cadillacs, you name it. Which is how I fell for my second husband.' She burst out laughing again. 'I'll go on in a minute. We must study the menus.'

Paula was fascinated. Sharon's personality had suddenly – at the mention of husbands – become amazingly animated. She glowed with life and Paula realized even more why men would, at their first meeting, be hypnotized by her.

Once everyone had decided on their main courses, refusing starters, Sharon consulted Tweed about the wine list. After telling the wine waiter what they wanted, she looked at Tweed.

'I've been chattering on too much. Your turn now.'

'Did you know that Denise Chatel has booked out of this hotel – and driven off in her car? Someone told me before dinner.'

'Yes, I found that out too.' The animation was replaced by her deep calm. 'She didn't say a word to me. I can't understand why she did it. Or where she's gone.'

`So she's disappeared?'

'Vanished into thin air. And after working for me for two years. I'm puzzled – and worried.'

'Would it be worth informing the police?' Tweed suggested.

'I thought of that, then rejected the, idea. After all, she's a free soul. She was a good worker, but often I was never sure what was going on in her mind.'

'Sorry to bring that up,' Tweed replied. 'Let's settle down and enjoy ourselves, as we were doing.'

'Husband Number Two,' said Newman.

'He doesn't. let go, does he?' Sharon put her hand across her mouth to suppress a giggle. 'I really did fall for him. After we became engaged he took me to Hawaii. Before I knew what was happening we were married – on the beach. It all seemed very romantic. Then after six months he Was running after other women. By then my lawyer, Joshua Warren, had become a friend. After a year I'd had enough of it. Joshua again took over – and again I was astounded at the size of the settlement. I won't bore you with Number Three, which followed the same pattern.'

'Where were you by then?' Newman asked.

'Washington. The trouble there is a single woman is suspect – the wives of high society men think you're after their husbands. So you don't get invited anywhere. I'm all right on my own – I love reading, but there's a limit to the number of books you can occupy yourself with. Then Joshua introduced me to Number Four. I admit I married him so I could lead a more social life. When my fourth husband went off the rails Joshua was in attendance to handle the divorce.' She paused. 'I was rather naive. It was only then I understood the enormous fees Joshua was making out of my divorces. Enough to set him up for life.' She went very quiet, staring at the table. 'I began to feel like a high-class call-girl – with Joshua manipulating me like a pimp. That's the way it goes in America – they're all corrupt. Which is why. I hanker for England.'

She looked up as the wine waiter showed her a bottle. He waited while she looked at it, then at him.

'I ordered 1992 – that's 1994,' she said sharply.

'I'm sorry, madame. I must have misunderstood you.' 'I spoke clearly enough.'

Tweed glanced down towards the main entrance. Rupert and Basil had just come in together. They strolled along the aisle and then Rupert paused by their table. He was staring at Sharon.

'I can recognize Venus-like beauty soon as I see it.'

Sharon glanced up with a blank expression. She stared at him, then lowered her eyes, her mouth tight with annoyance.

'Bob, aren't you going to introduce me?' Rupert persisted.

Basil stood by his side, smiling blandly. He adjusted a silk handkerchief in his top pocket.

'No, I'm not,' Newman told Rupert brusquely. 'And for your information this is a private dinner party.'

'I say, I say. A cordon sanitaire, as the French would say. Excuse me for being alive. Basil and I are on the way to the bar.'

'Your usual watering hole. I suggest you shove off there now.'

Newman had pushed back his chair. If necessary, he was ready to grab Rupert by the scruff of the neck and escort him through the Brasserie next door into the bar beyond. At that moment the head waiter, sensing trouble, appeared.

'Is everything all right – to your satisfaction, I hope?' 'It's tewwific,' Rupert told him. 'They want the same all over again.'

Before Newman could intervene Basil pulled at Rupert's sleeve. He said something in an undertone and guided Rupert away from them into the Brasserie.

'Everything is perfect,' Tweed told the head waiter. 'You have served us a meal to remember.'

'Thank you, sir…'

By then they were well into their main course. Tweed and Newman had chosen 'fillet of turbot. Sharon and Paula were both eating skewers of scallops and lobster on a bed of mashed potato with diced vegetables. During brief pauses in her conversation Sharon had delicately devoured large portions of her meal. Now she put down her knife and fork and looked at Paula.

'Who was that silly schoolboy?'

'Oh, that was Rupert Strangeways. His father is Sir Guy Strangeways.'

'I met him several times in Washington – Sir Guy, I mean,' Sharon explained. 'A nice man. I shouldn't say it, but he deserves a better offspring.'

'If you hadn't said it,' Newman told her, 'I would have done. Anyway, he's gone now…'

There was silence for a while as they concentrated on the meal. After dessert had been served and consumed Tweed posed his question to Sharon.

'Have you encountered a man called Jake Ronstadt?'

A heavier silence descended on the table. Sharon was dabbing at her lips with her serviette. She turned to look at Newman.

'Tweed is an interesting man. He fires intriguing questions at the most unexpected moment.' She smiled warmly at Tweed. 'Like a detective. Yes, I have encountered Ronstadt twice at the Embassy in London. Briefly on both occasions. I think he's a horrible man. Like a gangster. I can't imagine what he's doing at the Embassy.'

'He's not there now, Sharon,' said Tweed.

'Oh, have they sent him back to Washington?' 'No, he's at the Euler.'

'The Euler?'

'It's a top hotel here in Basel, no more than a mile from where we are sitting.'

'I find that very peculiar Why here in Basel?' Sharon asked.

'I've no idea. Someone who knows him by sight spotted him, told me. I was just curious.'

`So am I,' she said. 'Well, I'll be moving on soon. Not sure exactly when.'

'Moving on?' Tweed queried.

'Yes.' She turned, gave him her full attention. 'I was going to suggest we have coffee in the bar with a liqueur. That's when I was going to tell you.' She looked up as the waiter appeared. 'Can we have coffee in the bar? A quiet table if you can manage that.'

'Certainly, madame.'

Newman had turned round in his chair to survey the restaurant behind him. There were just a few couples here and there. He then saw Ed Osborne sitting at a table by himself. Osborne had a grim look on his face. Newman gave him a small salute. Osborne pretended not to see it, bent his head over a newspaper. What has disturbed him? Newman wondered.

Earlier, when Basil guided a wobbling Rupert through the Brasserie, the second restaurant in the hotel, and on into the bar, he had to hold him up. He had found Rupert at a table in the lobby. There were several empty glasses on the table Rupert was sitting at.

'Need another drink,' Rupert mumbled.

'Are you sure?'

'When I say need 'nother drink, I need 'nother drink. Wha's the matter, Basil? Don't understand the King's English?'

'It's the Queen's English these. days. Has been for long as I can remember.'

'Basil!' Rupert said aggressively. 'You tellin' me how you want me to speak my own language? 'Nother Scotch. Wanna sit down.'

The bar was empty. For the moment there was no one behind the serving counter. Basil guessed the girl had taken an order into the restaurant. He kept Rupert moving. There was another exit which led out straight onto the street.

'You need some fresh air first,' Basil said firmly. 'Then we can come back and get something to drink.'

'Fresh air? Can't drink fresh air. Didn't you know that?'

'I'll bring you a drink outside,' Basil lied.

'Against Swish law. Drinkin' in the street. End up in pokey, we will.'

'Almost there.'

Basil was anxious to get Rupert out of sight before someone returned to the bar. He got a strong hold on Rupert, propelled him to the door at the rear. He opened it with his back, hauled Rupert out with him. The outside air hit them like a blast from the Arctic. Rupert's legs gave way. Basil let him slide down until he was slumped with his back inside the alcove. Then he left him there, confident he would recover swiftly. He had no doubt Rupert would go straight back inside the bar to order another drink.

Basil hurried the short distance along the road, entered the hotel by the main door, took the lift to his room. He reappeared very quickly. He was wearing a long black overcoat which almost came to his ankles. He walked off into the night.

When Sharon's party walked through the Brasserie Tweed saw Nield and Butler having dinner at a table on their own. Neither of them looked up or said a word as they walked past. At another table, by himself, sat Marler.. When he saw them coming he picked up- his newspaper and began studying it.

'I'll go in first,' Newman said to Sharon. 'See if it's all clear.'

'I'm coming with you. People like that schoolboy don't worry me.'

A little distance behind them Tweed followed with Paula by his side. She kept her voice down.

'Rupert seems to have reverted to his normal obnoxious self.'

'I was sceptical about what he said to Newman. No more than a pipe dream, I'd say. He probably believed what he was saying at the time.'

'You really think so?'

'You sound dubious.'

'I think he was putting on an act. Here we are. And no sign of either of them, thank heavens.'

They ordered liqueurs from the girl who, at that moment, took up her position behind the bar counter. As soon as she saw them she came over and took their orders.

'Sharon,' Tweed began, 'I got the impression from what you said in the dining room that you are really fed up with the Americans'

'I am. Which is why I'm out here. I was appalled to hear Ronstadt is in town. I can't stop myself working, but officially I'm here on holiday. I'm floating around while I take a big decision. I'm getting away from it all so I can think. I'm playing with the idea of moving to living in Britain permanently. Down at my manor in Dorset.'

'So you're staying on in Basel?'

'No. I need different surroundings. I'm soon going to Freiburg, staying at the Hotel Colombi, which has five stars. You know, you look very smart in that blue bird's-eye suit. Pity that pocket bulges.'

Tweed put his hand in his pocket, brought out Beck's mobile. He smiled with resignation.

'Should have left it in my room. Picked it up automatically.'

He had hardly spoken when the mobile started buzzing. He stood up, shrugged, looked at Sharon apologetically.

'Excuse me. I refuse to use these things when I'm with guests in a restaurant or bar. I'll be back in a minute…`

He walked over to an empty table well away from anyone else. Only then did he answer the mobile phone. It was Beck on the line.

'Tweed, where are you now?'

'Just finished dinner in the hotel.'

'Please get over here quickly. It's an emergency.' Tweed returned to the guest table, apologized, thanked Sharon for a marvellous evening, explained he had to rush off to a meeting. He then walked swiftly into the Brasserie. Marler, drinking coffee, looked up as Tweed swept past him. Tweed was about to step in the lift when he found Marler behind him. As they ascended he told Marler what had happened.

'I'm coming with you. No argument…'