This United state

34

The repercussions of Marler's encounter with Bernie Warner were far more widespread than he could ever have anticipated. Jake Ronstadt, unable to sleep in his luxurious bedroom at the Colombi, was still up long after a grey and gloomy dawn light had spread over Freiburg. He sat in a chair, wearing an oriental dressing gown with dragons rampant. He was trying to make up his mind whether to move on to Hollental that day, or whether to wait for twenty-four hours.

On the one hand he was very short of time. On the other he knew his troops were fatigued, and by no means at their fighting best. The short, barrel-chested figure wedged in the armchair was also not in good shape. The fact that he had been drinking generous slugs of the precious bourbon he kept in a hip flask had not helped.

He'd had a shock earlier when, hidden in the bar, he'd seen Tweed, Newman and Paula Grey sitting with Sharon and Sir Guy. Where were Tweed's other men? He'd expected they would all head for the Schwarzwalder Hof. They appeared to have split into two forces, which worried him.

He was helping himself to another slug of bourbon when his phone rang. He clambered out of his chair, picked up the instrument.

'Yeah?'

'It's Vernon, Chief. We have a problem.'

'That I could do without. What problem? Spit it out.'

'Bernie has gone missin' – we've looked everywhere and he's just gone…'

'I don't believe you!' Ronstadt yelled down the phone.

'He has to be with you. Goddamn it, he's the printer. I need him as a double-check.'

'I don't get that.'

'You're not supposed to. What the hell are you talkie' about?' he raved. 'Maybe you'll get around to tellin' me what's goin' on.'

'Give me a chance, Chief. We're eatin' in the restaurant here. Bernie recognized one of Tweed's men. Saw him comin' out of the Three Kings place. I thought it was a good moment to cut down the opposition. This guy goes for a walk in the night, I send Bernie after him. The guy comes back! About half an hour later. Bernie never comes back.'

'You shouldn't have sent Bernie, you friggin' idiot.' 'He was the one who recognized him.'

'You said you'd looked everywhere. What in hell does that mean?' Ronstadt snarled.

'Six of us went out. I went myself. Brad nearly got knocked down by a dustcart collectin' rubbish.'

'Pity you weren't knocked down.' Ronstadt took a deep breath to get himself under control. 'Here's what you all do for today. Nothin' at all. Get it? You stay in your rooms and wait there for me to call.'

'OK, Chief. We need the rest.'

'Stick your rest. Why you had to send the printer on a job like that I don't know. Bernie was important. A damn sight more important than you!' he shouted, then slammed down the phone.

He went back to his armchair, slumped into it. He had a lot to think about. Should he try and contact Charlie? No! Charlie would crucify him. He had a deadline to keep and, in his fury, he had thrown away twenty-four hours. Unusually for Ronstadt, he wasn't sure what to do. His mind whirled. Should he ask Charlie to find a substitute for Bernie? No! Even if he risked Charlie's wrath there wasn't time. He reached for his hip flask, then left it in his hip pocket.

He'd have a bath, get dressed, then go down for breakfast. He might get an inkling of what Tweed was up to. Then he had a bright idea. They'd leave for Hollental in the middle of the night. The decision taken, he felt. better. He decided a shower might help to clear his brain. He had the mother of all headaches.

Paula woke, felt her normal alert self. She checked the time. It was only 9.30 am. Maybe they would still be serving breakfast in the dining room. She disliked room service. An American habit. Showering and dressing quickly, she went down and paused at the entrance. They were still serving breakfast.

Ed Osborne, big in a thick white polo-necked sweater and grey slacks, sat at a table by himself from where he could survey the whole room. At a remote corner table Sharon also sat by herself, eating buttered toast with one hand, marking up a file with the other. That woman never stops working, Paula thought. Osborne saw her, looked at her with a forbidding expression, then bent his head over a newspaper.

At another table for four Tweed sat with Newman. He caught her eye, gestured for her to join them. She sat down so she was facing the distant Sharon.

'When I came in,' Tweed said, 'I went over to her and suggested she'd probably sooner be on her own at breakfast. She thanked me for my intuition and consideration.'

'She's a slave-driver,' said Newman, 'the slave being herself. We didn't expect you down so early. You got some sleep?'

'I crashed out. It may not have been for long but I feel I've had the best sleep for days.' She looked up as a waiter stood by her. 'I'll have coffee, a glass of orange juice, and also croissants. Nothing else, thank you.' She looked at Tweed. 'Any idea of what we're doing today?'

'None at all. I'm waiting for Marler to press the button. Look who's just arrived.'

She stared at the entrance. Jake Ronstadt was standing there as she had, scanning the restaurant. She was staring because of the way he was dressed. Granted it was breakfast time, so she wouldn't have expected guests to dress up. But Ronstadt was wearing a brown leather jacket, heavy brown leather trousers and thick-soled shoes. Over his arm he carried a black overcoat and his left hand clutched a baseball cap.

'Looks as though he could be leaving,' Paula whispered. 'Oh, Lord, I think he's coming over to us.'

Before he started moving towards their table Sharon had glanced up, then immediately looked down at her file. Osborne, also, had seen his arrival. He gave the newcomer one bleak stare, then resumed reading his newspaper.

'Hi, folks,' Ronstadt greeted them. 'What a big surprise. You're a long way from Goodfellows back in London,' he said addressing Paula. He held out his large hand and she felt compelled to shake it. 'Say, you've got quite a grip there.'

'It comes in useful on occasion,' she replied, staring straight into his hard eyes.

'I guess it does.' He chuckled, a deep rumble which seemed to originate deep down in his chest. 'Fending off unwanted admirers. I guess there must be quite a few of 'em.' He turned his attention to Tweed. 'You sure get around.'

'So do you,' Tweed replied bluntly. 'Where exactly have you come from to get here?'

'I was in Basel. Nice peaceful city. Nothin' ever happens there.' He paused, as though expecting a reaction. 'Now I'm tourin' Germany. Kinda restin' up. Got a big job in London when I get back there.'

'What kind of a job is that?' Newman rapped out.

'Settlin' in new staff. We're enlarging the Embassy. London is becomin' the key city in the Western world.'

'London could do without the bombs,' Paula said, lifting her voice. 'And the hideous casualties caused by mindless terrorists.'

Out of the corner of her eye she saw both Sharon and Osborne look up, startled by her vehemence.

'You're sure right there,' Ronstadt agreed equably. 'Think I've disturbed you folks enough. Have a nice day.'

He walked off to an isolated table. On the way he called out in a rough manner.

'Waiter! Over here! I'm hungry.'

'Aggressive, callous bastard,' Paula hissed quietly, her hand gripping the napkin in her lap to regain self- control.

'Oh, he was deliberately being provocative,' Tweed said calmly. 'I liked your reference to bombs and terrorists, Paula. He didn't linger after that. I don't think he was very happy about the whole restaurant hearing you.'

'Did he hurt your hand when he shook it?' Newman enquired. 'I saw he exerted all his strength.'

'No, he didn't My grip is as strong as his. My aerobics. And I wanted to test his strength. I might come up against him later on my own.'

'Don't,' Newman warned, keeping his voice down. 'He's probably packing a gun at this moment.'

'And I'm packing my Browning,' Paula retorted. 'It does look as though he's leaving after breakfast, doesn't it?'

'No,' said Tweed.

'What makes you say that?' she demanded.

'The fact that he was putting on a demonstration for our benefit.'

'What kind of a demonstration?'

'Rather an obvious ploy. To give us the impression that he is leaving shortly. Hence his clothes, his overcoat and baseball cap. If he was on his way he'd attempt to conceal it. I think he's had enough of us. And something Marler phoned me about will, I'm sure, have upset Mr Jake Ronstadt. Thrown him off balance. Tell you later.'

'So we're here a bit longer?'

'At least for the rest of the day would be my guess: I see Sharon is leaving. She's gone now.' He drank more coffee. A short while later he stared. 'Well, look who's arrived.' -

Paula and Newman stared across the dining room. Standing in the entrance, looking round the room, dressed in a dove-grey two-piece suit, was Denise Chatel. She was clutching a large handbag. After swiftly checking out who was having breakfast she vanished.