This United state

33

'We're really goin' to fool 'em good,' Ronstadt gloated. 'Poor old Tweed. He ain't gonna know what to do.'

'If he falls for it,' warned Leo Madison, by his side.

'Moonhead, ain't it occurred to you? I could open the door on your side and shove you out. I reckon the best you could hope for is a cracked skull.'

Madison decided it would be best not to answer back. Ronstadt had a revolver tucked down inside his belt behind the smart suit he was wearing. Madison also recalled how Ronstadt had smashed his fist into Vernon's jaw during the meeting in his suite at the Euler. Ronstadt was a very unpredictable man.

Some distance behind the black Audi convoy, Paula had heaved a sigh of relief when the cars ahead turned at junction 63 onto the road to Freiburg. She relaxed and Tweed squeezed her arm.

'It's going to work out all right.'

'I don't know how you do it. You seem to read Jake Ronstadt's mind. And I have known you do that before, with other people.'

'There's no magic about it. I just try to put myself into the shoes of the enemy. You've got a torch ready to signal to Marler when – or if – it's necessary?'

'I'm ready.'

She settled down to look at the moonlit landscape. The road they were now travelling on was narrower than the autobahn but it had a good surface. It was elevated above the surrounding white fields below them and leafless trees, like sentinels, stood at intervals on either side. It was rather like driving along a tree-lined boulevard. Then she leaned forward, peering ahead. In the mid-distance reared up a brooding white massif, a range like a huge frozen wave.

What's the grim-looking thing in the distance?' she asked.

'That,' Tweed told her, 'is the Black Forest.'

'Looks pretty sinister.'

'In winter, after a heavy fall of snow, it can be beautiful.'

'I'll take your word for it.'

She concentrated on checking her map. They were not too far from where the road forked. When she looked ahead again the massif seemed much higher and menacing. Nearer to them she saw a wall of buildings huddled together. Above them glowed a faint halo which, she assumed, was street lights. She sat up and gazed steadily at the receding red lights of the convoy.

Then she saw the lead car disappearing to the left. Behind it three cars turned to the right. She twisted round in her seat. Marler's car was fairly close. Lifting the torch, she carefully switched it on and off three times. She thought she saw, behind the wheel, Marler's head nodding in acknowledgement.

'You predicted again what they were going to do,' she said to Tweed.

'I don't always get it right.' He leaned forward. 'When you've taken the left fork, Bob, I'll try and guide you to the Colombi. Let's just hope they haven't moved it,' he added with a touch of humour.

'Won't Ronstadt guide me there if I follow him?'

'If I'm right, yes he will. If you're getting too close call on my help. And, everyone, when we get to our rooms, unpack the very minimum of clothing. We may have to leave the hotel very quickly…'

They waited ten minutes parked in a dark street after Ronstadt and the three men with him had entered the Colombi. A uniformed employee took his car away. By night the dark buildings on both sides cast black shadows. In contrast, the illuminated entrance to the Colombi looked warm and inviting. Tweed checked his watch.

'Time to go inside. Let's hope Ronstadt and his thugs have gone to their rooms. If they're hungry they'll probably have to use room service…'

When they alighted from their car, porters took their bags. The same employee who had driven away Ronstadt's car attempted to do the same thing with their Audi. Newman intervened.

'I may have to drive off quickly soon. Please leave it where it is.'

'That would be most unusual, sir.'

'I'm an unusual man.'

Newman smiled at him. He handed him a hundred- mark note. There was no further argument. Tweed and Paula had walked inside. While Tweed was registering Paula glanced round. The hotel reeked of luxury and taste. Leaving the reception area, Tweed glanced into a lounge, stood stock-still.

'What is it?' whispered Paula as Newman joined them.

'Come in and see for yourself.'

Tweed walked in, his coat over his arm. It was like a replay of their arrival at the Three Kings. The first person he saw, leaning forward in an armchair, was Sir Guy Strangeways. In another chair, facing him, with a table between them, Sharon sat with a glass in her hand. She looked up. She raised her eyebrows, then smiled invitingly.

'What an unexpected pleasure. Now you can host a dinner for me here tomorrow evening. No, it's almost 6 am. I should have said this evening.'

'Are you following us?' Strangeways demanded abruptly.

'You arrived together, then?'

'No, we didn't,' Sharon said quickly. 'I drove myself here in a Merc. I told Guy where I was going and he said he'd be coming too. I thought he was joking. But, as you see, here he is. Do sit down. Paula, how nice to see you. And, Bob, you have completed the party.'

'A party? At six o'clock in the morning?' Newman queried.

'Why not?' Sharon gave him an inviting smile. 'It's the serene time of the day. I love it. No one up yet in the hotel. Just the five of us. Champers, Paula?'

'Not for me, thank you.'

Sharon was holding a bottle she had taken out of a silver bucket of ice. From a side table she had picked up a fresh glass.

'You'll join me, won't you, Bob?'

'Just one glass. Might keep me awake. Or put me to sleep.'

'And, Tweed, you'll join me. Tell me, how much sleep have you had in the past twenty-four hours?'

'I had a couple of brief naps in the car on our way here.'

'I thought so. I'm sure you and I have one thing in common.' She gave him a ravishing smile as she poured him a glass. 'We are both blessed with immense stamina. I get by on four hours a night. Less, if I have to.

'More for you, Guy?' she suggested.

'No, thank you. Think I'll have to crawl up to bed soon. I did ask you a question, Tweed. Why are you following us?'

'You've just rephrased the question, Guy. And I was going to ask you just the same question. First you arrive at the Three Kings in Basel, just before I do. Now you turn up here.'

'I think I must get up to bed now.' Guy dragged himself out of his chair. 'I'm dropping. Goodnight

Tweed was mentally contrasting Guy with Sharon. The man who had just left them had had puffy eyes, a strained look, almost haggard. On the other hand Sharon looked fresh as the proverbial daisy, ready for anything. He looked at her and the green eyes glowed back.

'I got the impression Guy is very worried about something. Did you?' he asked her.

'Yes, I did. Ever since he sat down, which was quite a while ago, he's been crossing and recrossing his legs. Then he kept shifting round in his chair. I asked him point-blank. He wouldn't even give me a hint. He drank a lot of champagne and I had to order another bottle. Mind you.,.' She smiled again. 'I contributed to killing that first bottle. He's definitely got something on his mind, but won't come out with it.'

'Might depend on what it is,' Tweed mused, sipping at his glass.

'I suppose it might.' Sharon looked at Paula. 'You're awfully quiet. Hardly said a word since you sat down.'

'Sorry. Excuse my bad manners. The fact is I need some sleep. It's been a long day.' She smiled. 'And a long night. I hope you don't mind if I go up to my room.'

'Think we could all do with a bit of Up,' Newman said, standing up at the same moment as Paula. 'Look forward to seeing you later.'

'You're not going to leave me on my own, are you?' Sharon asked, gazing at Tweed.

'I'm afraid I am. I have some papers I have to go through. As Bob said, we'll see you later.'

'You're abandoning me,' she said with mock disappointment.

'Not for long. How could I?'

'Tweed,' she called out as he was leaving, 'that awful man Ed Osborne is staying here. Thought you ought to know…'

'The eagles gather.'

'I'd like both of you to pop along to my room with me. Just for a moment,' Tweed said as they were going upstairs. 'We have to plan for any emergency.'

Tweed unlocked the door to his room and let Paula go in first. She looked round and gave a sigh of pleasure.

'What a lovely room. Pure luxury.' She sat on his bed and bounced on it. 'If you're not careful I'm just going to drop off here.'

'Then I'll have to move all my stuff to your room. Not that I'll unpack much.'

'What do you think of Ed Osborne being here? We knew he would be coming, but he gave you details of the Schwarzwalder Hof. Not this place.'

'You heard my comment when Sharon warned me.'

'Which tells me a lot. You mentioned planning for an emergency. I took that to mean a sudden take-off. I've already decided I'll have a very quick shower, change into fresh underclothes, sleep in them. When we leave I'll be in my warm clothes, leggings and boots. I think it will be cold.'

'It will be freezing,' Newman told her.

'Paula has put her finger on the basic plan,' Tweed said, sitting in a chair. 'Ready to leave at a moment's notice. I think we'll get warning that they're on the move from Marler. There are a lot more of them at the Schwarzwalder Hof. Here there's only Ronstadt and his three thugs.'

'So you're relying on Marler to call you?' Newman suggested.

'Yes. When he came to the car window to return your weaponry I slipped him Beck's powerful mobile phone.'

'What if Beck happened to call you?' Paula enquired.

'Then Marler would pass onto me whatever message Beck wanted to pass on. Incidentally, Ronstadt will probably leave tomorrow – that is, today – unless something happens to upset him.'

'Let's hope it does,' said Paula as she got up to leave. 'I'm not too keen on an early departure. I've got some sleep to catch up on. And I get the impression you're all falling for Sharon.'

'What man wouldn't?' Tweed said with a dry smile. 'She really is the most amazing woman.'

'Don't expect me down to breakfast. I'll have it in my room. I really couldn't stand seeing Ed Osborne at another table. He looked so grim when we left the bar at the Three Kings.' She made a face. 'As though he was expecting the heavens to fall.'

'Perhaps they will,' replied Tweed:

'Any idea where we're going when we head into the Black Forest?' she asked as she reached the door.

'In Kurt Schwarz's little black notebook, which I have with me, he mentioned Hollental. Which, as you know, is German for Hell's Valley.'

'You're so good for my morale. Give my love to Marler if he does call…'

Earlier, after turning down the right fork, Marler had found it easy to follow the three black Audis. Not that the route was easy. They soon plunged into a one-way system which twisted and turned. It wasn't long before Marler realized they had entered the Altstadt – the Old City of Freiburg, built centuries ago.

Ancient stone buildings lined either side of the narrow streets. The lighting, from old street lanterns, was dim but adequate. They kept moving into shadows, then briefly into an illuminated area. The streets became cobbled, the car rocked as Marler kept down to a slow pace, imitating the red lights of the three cars ahead. There was hardly any other traffic, which was a blessing, but. cars were parked everywhere, which was a curse.

Suddenly he caught sight of the moonlit towering spire of the Munster. Nield, sitting beside him, stared fixedly ahead.

'I reckon we must be nearly there. I think they're parking in that big open space by the Minster.'

'I think so too,' Marler agreed.

'So we wait until they've pushed off to the hotel.'

'Seems sensible. We'll give them time to register, get up to their rooms. If possible, I'd like both of you to keep under cover. It probably means going straight up to your rooms while I register, then having something to eat in the rooms.'

'Suits me,' said Butler.

'Good strategy, I'd say,' Nield agreed. 'What will you do?'

`Eat in the restaurant. I think those thugs will do the same. I want to memorize their faces.'

'Not an enjoyable pastime, I'd imagine,' commented Nield.

Having parked their cars, all twelve occupants walked out of the Munsterplatz and down a side street. Marler waited a little longer, then drove his car into the square and chose a place to park some distance- from the three black Audis. He checked his watch, waited a minute or two longer, then they left the car, carrying their bags and walking down the side street.

It was very narrow, cobbled and black as pitch. Emerging at the other end they saw to their left the bright lights of the hotel. They entered, were met by a wave of warmth as they opened the door. Marler made straight for the reception desk.

'I'm sorry, but we are rather late,' he said to the man behind the counter. 'We have bookings.' He gave their names. 'My two friends are very tired. Could they go straight up to their rooms while I register?'

'Yes, sir. Here are their keys. Now, if you will register…'

'I'd like something to eat,' Marler told the receptionist.. 'Any chance that the restaurant is still open?'

'Of course. You go through there. I can take your case to your room.'

'Thank you. I'll keep my holdall.'

The restaurant was large and inviting. It was constructed almost entirely of pinewood. It had panelled walls of pine, here and there were square pillars of pine, the woodblock floor was pine. They have an awful lot of timber in the Black Forest, Marler thought. On one side of the restaurant were banquette booths, each large enough to seat six people. He checked the menu, ordered one substantial dish when the waiter came.

He was alone in the spacious restaurant, but not for long. He was drinking a glass of wine, eating bread, when twelve tough-looking men trooped in. After looking round, a tall thin man ushered them into the booths. Several carried black anoraks and most wore thick woollen sweaters and heavy dark trousers.

Without appearing to do so, he kept an eye on them as he hurried through his meal. Next to the tall thin man sat a smaller man who was also not carrying much weight. Marler caught the small man staring at him. As soon as he looked up the man looked away, started talking to the thug who seemed to be the boss.

'Vernon,' he said quietly. 'That guy over in the corner with the smart clothes. I've seen him before.'

'And where would that be, Bernie?'

'Once when Jake put me on watch duty, checking out the Three Kings Hotel. Jake had given me a description of the girl with Tweed. Seem to recall her name was Paula Grey.'

'So what? Get to it.'

'I saw the Grey girl comin' out with another guy – and with the guy over there. My bet is he's here to spy on us.'

'You're sure?'

Bernie looked across at Marler again. He looked away quickly. Marler had glanced at him again. Bernie was hungry. He stuffed bread in his mouth.'

'Don't do that,' Vernon snapped. 'I asked were you sure.'

'I'm certain.'

When he had finished his meal Marler called out to the waiter. He raised his voice so it carried.

'Is it much colder outside? I feel like a breath of fresh air before I go to bed.'

'It is very cold,' the waiter replied.

'I still feel like a short walk.' He scribbled on the bill given to him by the waiter. 'Put the meal on my room number.'

With the holdall slung over his shoulder, he walked out of the restaurant into the lobby. Climbing a curving staircase he soon located his room. He looked round for a hiding place. Then he explored the bathroom. He put the holdall inside a linen bin, roughed up some towels, shoved them on top, replaced the lid. He left his coat in a cupboard. Marler could stand a lot of cold weather and a coat restricted his movements.

Returning downstairs, he walked through the restaurant. He had earlier spotted another door which led to the outside world. He closed the door after stepping into a narrow street, little more than an alley. In the restaurant he had left, Vernon put his face close to his subordinate's.

'Bernie, go after him. Waste him. Not too close to the hotel.'

'Not my job, Vernon. I'm a printer.'

Bernie, listen. Listen good. When you joined this outfit I remember Jake sent you to Philadelphia to eliminate a certain guy. It was a test. Jake likes all his people to handle a gun when it comes to it. You killed the guy in Philadelphia. You got a gun on you now.'

'I know. Do I get more bucks for doin' this?'

'That we can discuss later. Get after him.'

When he had closed the restaurant door behind him Marler looked up at a street sign, which was illuminated. Munzgasse. The alley was cobbled – and deserted. He started walking along it to get an idea of his surroundings. Knowledge which might come in useful later. It was very cold, very silent.

Near the end of the long alley he paused. To his left there was a cafe, Wirschaft. It was closed, as everywhere else would be now. He had heard footsteps behind him. Slow, cautious footsteps. Whoever he was, the damned fool had metal studs in the soles of his shoes. When he paused he no longer heard the footsteps. He was careful not to look back.

He walked out of the alley and stared ahead in surprise. Ahead was the last thing he had expected to see in the Old City. A weird complex of very modern concrete houses were stepped steeply up the side of a hill. They appeared to be detached residences and were the sort of structures he'd have expected to find in America.

The complex – with houses on either side – was divided into two sections by a long flight of wide concrete steps. Apart from those at street level, you had to climb the steps to reach the houses, which were on different levels. Behind them, higher still, loomed dense tree-clad slopes. He imagined this was the verge of the Black Forest. He could hear the footsteps behind him again, moving more rapidly.

He began climbing the steps quickly. The footsteps hurried now. Suddenly turning round, he looked down. It was the small thin man, wearing an anorak. Marler was almost at the top level. In his right hand his tail carried a gun. Marler smiled.

'What's all this about?'

'We kinda don't like spies.'

'What makes you think I am a spy?'

'Saw you leavin' the Three Kings in Basel. With your friend, Paula Grey.'

'You're not threatening me?' said Marler, still smiling. 'I'm kinda goin' to kill you.'

Marler stared down behind the gunman. It was the oldest trick in the world. He smiled again as though he hadn't a care in the universe.

'I like to know who's pointing a gun at me. You got a name?:

'Bernie Warner. Guess you might as well know the name of the last guy you'll ever see in this world.'

Marler was still staring fixedly behind Bernie. The thug was beginning to notice this. Also the fact that Marler kept smiling bothered him. You don't keep smiling when you're expecting a bullet in the chest. Marler nodded his head.

'Take him, Mike,' he called out.

Bernie swung round, saw there was no one behind him, turned back to shoot. In the two seconds it had taken him to check his rear Marler jumped on to the top step, dived sideways behind a concrete pillar. Crouched down, he found himself hemmed in by a collection of large, filled rubbish sacks with a sheaf of folded spares under his knees. Obviously when it became daylight the dustcart was due.

Jumping up the last few steps, Bernie stopped, swivelled the muzzle of his gun to where Marler crouched. A shot rang out. A red spot like an Eastern caste mark appeared on his forehead. Still gripping the Walther automatic in his hand, Marler watched Bernie collapse backwards, sprawling down the top steps.

Standing tip, he walked down a couple of steps, checked the neck pulse. Nothing. Marler then became very active. He took one of the large spare sacks, walked down the two steps to where Bernie's head rested. He eased the head inside the sack first, then manoeuvred the shoulders inside. He had trouble getting the arms in but he managed it. Then he lifted the sack carefully and the rest of the corpse slithered in, leaving space at the top.

'Lucky he was a small man,' Marler said to himself.

He used a handkerchief to pick up Bernie's Beretta pistol, which still had his fingerprints on it, then dropped it into the sack. He next went back to the piled sacks, opened one, took out rubbish, stuffed it inside Bernie's sack. Fastening it, he heaved it over his shoulders, dumped it with the other sacks awaiting collection. His last precaution was to use his handkerchief to remove the few spots of blood on the steps.

For the third time he glanced quickly round the concrete villas No sign of lights, of life. It would be daylight soon. If anyone had heard the shot they'd probably thought it was a car backfiring.

He hurried down the steps. At the bottom he turned left and soon saw a main highway. He guessed that would to the route they'd take when they left Freiburg. Then he saw what he was looking for – a street drain.

Screwing up the blood-stained handkerchief, he pushed it down into the drain. He had once bought it while in Berlin, as one of a set. There was no way it could be traced back to him.

Turning back, he walked down Munzgasse to the hotel. He entered by the door leading into the restaurant.

Five of the thugs were still seated in their booth – with the thin man Marler had picked out as the boss. Then he, recalled Keith Kent's description of the man with Ronstadt in the Zurcher Kredit Bank. A tall thin man with a hard, thin bony face. The description fitted. And Newman had identified him as Vernon Kolkowski. Vernon had two empty steins in front of him and was halfway through a third. He was glowering when Marler walked in. His expression changed to one of disbelief when he saw Marler.

'Goodnight,' said Marler as he passed close to their table. 'Or, rather, good morning.'

Vernon's glower returned. He said nothing as Marler walked on, went up the curving staircase to his room. As soon as he was inside, the door relocked, Marler sat on his bed. He took from his pocket the small mobile, pressed numbers without consulting the piece of paper Tweed had provided with the number of the Colombi. When the night operator came on he asked to be put through to Tweed.

`Marler here. There were twelve little black men. Now there are eleven. And I'm coming to the Colombi – to attach another tracking gizmo to Ronstadt's Audi. Earlier in Basel he had a Citroen.'

'Thank you for keeping me informed…'

Tweed, still up, making notes on a pad, knew what Marler had meant. The twelve men in black Audis had now been reduced to eleven.