This United state

37

Paula stood very still, hardly able to take in the news. Tweed also froze, his expression blank, But not for long. He spoke quietly to the receptionist to calm him down.

'Did you see anyone, or anything, else while you were outside?'

'No one. I thought I saw the rear of a brown Opel disappearing round a corner. But I can't be sure about that.'

'Where is the body?'

'With the help of some of the staff I put it in that room over there. The one with the closed door.' 'Thank you,' Tweed said as Newman appeared.

He heard Paula telling Newman what had happened as he walked towards the closed door. He had his hand on the handle when Rupert arrived, grabbing his arm. 'You can't go in there,' Rupert growled.

'Don't ever take hold of me again!'

Tweed heaved his shoulder against Rupert. The impact sent Rupert staggering back. He recovered and was advancing again on Tweed when Newman grasped hold of Rupert from behind, twisting up his arm.

'You're hurting me,' Rupert snarled.

'Make any more wrong moves and I'll break your bloody arm.'

Tweed had opened the door and walked into a sitting room. Over a couch a sheet had been drawn. He lifted it, looked down at the body laid on its back. Guy, eyes closed, looked very peaceful, except for one blemish. In the centre of his forehead was a ragged hole with congealed blood where the bullet had gone in. He replaced the sheet, left the room, closed the door, walked over to the receptionist.

'How long ago did this happen?'

'I suppose it must have been at least half an hour ago, sir.'

Tweed turned to Paula. He guided her away from the staff milling round in the lobby. He spoke to her in a quiet corner.

'Could it really have been half an hour?'

'Easily – or longer. After we heard Sir Guy arguing with someone in the corridor you took a while drinking coffee and thinking. Then you called Marler,' she went on, keeping her voice low, 'and we had to wait for him to call us back. Afterwards, when he did call back, you spent quite a bit of time explaining things to him about Sir Guy's offer to come with us. Time can pass more quickly than we realize. Now I come to reckon it up, it could have been well over half an hour before we came down to get some lunch.'

'What's happening now?'

Paula turned round and saw men in white coats and trousers come in carrying a stretcher. Rupert guided them to the room where his father lay. Tweed strode forward with Paula at his heels until he reached Rupert.

'What's going on?' Tweed demanded.

'I called them after consulting the receptionist. They're taking him to the airport just outside Freiburg, if you must know.'

'The airport? Why, in Heaven's name?'

'Because -' Rupert's manner became sarcastic – 'at airports they have planes. I've hired a private aircraft to. fly him straight home. I know that's what he would have wanted.'

'You must be mad. Your father was murdered. There'll have to be an autopsy here.'

'I'm not having foreign doctors cutting up my father's body. In case you haven't grasped it, I'm his next of kin. It's nothing to do with you.'

'It has a lot to do with the German police.'

'Oh, I fixed that. I phoned Chief Inspector Kuhlmann at Wiesbaden. I told him you agreed the body should be flown straight back to Britain.'

'You told him what?' Tweed was in one of his rare rages. 'How dare you use my name without my permission? And what exactly did Kuhlmann say?'

'Something about in view of the present situation he'd make an exception and waive the normal formalities. Reluctantly, I believe he said – providing he received a full report from London.'

'And where is this private aircraft flying your father to?'

'Heathrow. Kuhlmann also agreed that under the circumstances he'd phone the airport controller here to authorize the flight. Some such bull.' Rupert adopted a sneering tone. 'Don't know why you're fussing like an old woman. You were supposed to be a friend of my father's.'

'You're flying home with the body?'

'Glory, no. Think I want to put myself through that? Because I don't – and won't.'

Newman made a move to grab hold of Rupert. Paula grasped his sleeve, held him back, whispered something. While all this was going on the stretcher-bearers were carrying the body outside to a van waiting at the kerb.

'I've a good mind to call Kuhlmann, tell him the truth, and make him reverse his decision,' Tweed rasped. 'Let's get just one thing clear. If you ever use my name again without coming to me first I'll have you arrested and charged with deception of the authorities.'

'Do what you bloody well like!'

'You mind your filthy mouth.' Newman snapped. 'Or I'll close it for you.'

'Toodle-pip. I have to go with the van to the airport.'

'I'm going to tell the driver he's acting illegally,' Tweed said in a cold voice.

'Wait a minute,' Paula said urgently, again keeping her voice low. 'You don't want to get involved. Haven't you enough on your mind? Far more important things to attend to?'

'You're right, of course.' Tweed was suddenly calm. 'And now look what we've got on our doorstep. I think I'll have a word with him.'

Basil Windermere, sporting a cashmere overcoat, had appeared at the entrance. He walked in, stared round at the air of chaos. Tweed went up to him.

'I say,' said Basil, 'what's the party in aid of? All the staff standing round-. And didn't I see Rupert getting into the front seat of a van? Having fun, are we?'

'Hardly, Tweed replied. 'Rupert's father has just been murdered. Shot down in cold blood in the street outside.'

'You don't say. Of course the old boy was getting on a bit. But to go like that. Not cricket.'

'Where have you been?' Tweed asked through gritted teeth.

'Doing the Grand Tour of Freiburg. Parked by an expensive fashion shop, watched some nifty fillies going in. And a few older ones. Must be rolling in it.'

'I heard you'd hired a car. Is it outside?'

'Think so. Unless the hotel attendant chappie has taken it to the garage.'

'Show me. What's the make?'

'An Opel. Nothing to top up the image.'

'Let's have a look now.' Tweed beckoned to the chief receptionist. They walked outside. The Opel was still there, it's colour blue. 'Was this the car you saw disappearing?' Tweed asked the receptionist.

'I do not really know, sir. It all happened so quickly.' 'You said a brown Opel,' Tweed reminded him. 'This is blue.'

'I only saw it for a second, sir. I was really looking at the body.'

'Anyone mind telling me what this is in aid of?' Basil demanded.

Tweed looked straight into the pallid eyes of Basil Windermere. He could detect no sign of any kind of human feeling, no reaction at all to the news Windermere had just heard. He went on staring into the eyes while he answered.

'We're looking for a serial murderer.'

Then he turned away and joined Paula and Newman. He led them up to his room and sat down in a chair, telling them to make themselves at home. He took Beck's mobile from his pocket.

'What does it all mean?' Newman asked. 'Was it the Phantom?'

'I'm sure it was. Guy had a bullet dead centre in his forehead. Wasn't that the case with Kurt Schwarz?'

'Yes, it was.'

'Why would they kill Guy?' Paula asked.

'I think it was triggered off by the argument you and I heard outside in the corridor. I think that after a while in his room Guy decided to go out for a walk to calm down. By that time arrangements had been made to kill him. Someone moved very fast.' As he spoke he was pressing numbers on the mobile.

'Marler? You recognize my voice? Good. The extra asset we thought we'd have with us is no longer available.'

'Understood,' Marler acknowledged.

'I had to be careful,' Tweed remarked, 'since I was phoning him at the Schwarzwalder Hof. Now I'm going to try and get hold of Roy Buchanan. I can remember his mobile number.'

'Why Buchanan?' Paula asked.

'Listen and you'll see – if I get him…'

Buchanan responded very quickly and Tweed explained that Sir Guy Strangeways had just been murdered, most probably by the Phantom. He told him of the arrangement to fly the body to Heathrow, asked if he could arrange to have the private plane met, then for an autopsy to be performed.

'When they've taken the bullet out of Guy,' Tweed continued, 'I suggest it's compared with the one which killed our Prime Minister, the one which killed a man found dead off Regent Street, the one which killed the German, Keller, and the one which killed a French Minister…'

Tweed listened for a few minutes, replied briefly, listened again and then thanked Buchanan before he broke the connection.

'Any news from Roy?' Paula enquired.

'Yes. He was on his way to Heathrow. They had an anonymous call that a bomb has been placed aboard a plane bound for the Western hemisphere. That covers a lot of territory. Umpteen planes are grounded. Chaos at Heathrow. A fresh ploy to destabilize us. Roy is going to wait to meet the plane flying in Guy's body. I think that tells you all we said to each other.'

'I forgot to mention it earlier,' Newman said. 'Just before we came up here I noticed someone come back into the hotel from outside. It was Ed Osborne.'

'Interesting,' commented Tweed. 'Now let's go down and see if we can get a late lunch. I think zero hour is very close.'

When they entered the dining room waiters were clearing away the empty tables. But the maitre d' told Tweed that of course they could have lunch. The only other guest in the room as they made their way to their table was Sharon.

She raised a hand, waved to them, then returned to checking a file. A waiter brought her a fresh pot of coffee, removed an old one. Paula sighed after they had ordered.

'That woman never stops working. She has a pile of files on a chair.'

'She's dedicated,' said Tweed.

'I wonder if she's heard about Guy.'

'Paula, if she has, she has. If she hasn't she'll hear sooner or later.'

'You're in a hurry, aren't you?'

'Yes. It will be dark soon. It would be anyway at this time of the year, but with this heavy overcast it will come quicker.'

Like Paula, Tweed was eating quickly during gaps in their conversation.

'Which means?' she asked quietly.

'I think Ronstadt will be leaving any minute. I'm surprised I haven't heard from Marler. I'd expect activity over where he's staying.'

'We've finished dessert. We could skip coffee.' 'I think we should.'

Newman looked up as someone appeared at the entrance to the restaurant. A tall smooth-faced man wearing a good suit. He glanced across at Sharon. She was so absorbed in her file she didn't see him beckon briefly to Newman.

'Excuse me,' said Newman. 'Back in a minute.'

The tall man had disappeared. Newman found him waiting at the entrance to the bar. Inside Basil Windermere sat with his back to the entrance, nursing a glass. The tall man moved a few feet along the wall as Newman approached him with a smile.

'Well, if it isn't Chuck Venacki. Last seen with a car parked outside Park Crescent, watching the place.'

'And then Bob Newman rams me up the rear in his four-wheel drive. You pulled that job pretty smartly.' 'What is it, Venacki?'

'You can call me Chuck. Tell Tweed to go to his room now. I do mean now.'

'Why?'

'He'll find out why very quickly. You're short of time.'

'Can you tell me why?'

'Make with the feet, Newman, for God's sake.'

Newman walked back into the restaurant. He sat down, pushed his dessert dish away. While he did this he leant close to Tweed.

'I suggest you go to your room immediately. It could be urgent.'

'I'll come with you, if that's all right,' Paula said. 'Yes, come with me'

'I'm going to my room,' Newman said. 'So you know where to get me.'

Tweed, with Paula by his side, strolled out of the restaurant. He looked across at Sharon, but she was so absorbed in working on her file she didn't notice them.

'That woman,' Paula remarked on their way up, 'has extraordinary powers of concentration.'

'A real brain-box,' he agreed.

They were inside his room, the door relocked, when she asked a question. Perched on the arm of a chair, she was wearing her outdoors outfit, complete with leggings and a strong pair of boots which would grip firmly on rough ground,

'I wonder who that man was, the one Bob went out to talk to? He seemed to know him.'

'Maybe an old contact from his days as an active journalist '

'You don't really believe that.'

'Frankly, at the moment I don't know what to believe.'

'And why, I wonder, was it so important that you came up here?'

'No idea. I just do what I'm told – when it's Bob who tells me.'

A minute or two later the phone rang. 'Maybe it was this. We'll soon know. Yes,' he said, 'who is it?'

'Ronstadt left a few minutes ago. With his bag. He checked out.'

'You'd sooner not give me a name?'

'Right on the button. Good luck.'

Tweed put the phone down. He spoke as he went to a cupboard to fetch his packed bag.

'We're on our way. Whoever phoned had a smooth American voice. And I have to call the others.'

Paula was already on her way to the door, heading for her room. She stopped as Tweed's mobile started buzzing. He snatched it out of his pocket.

'Yes. Who's calling?'

'Me.' Marler's voice. 'Activity here. Drive over. Tell Bob to park at the edge of the Munsterplatz. He knows where…'

'That was Marler,' Tweed said and Paula left the room.

Tweed picked up the phone after dumping his bag close to his feet. He called Newman and Keith Kent. His message was the same to both of them.

'Now! Meet you with your bag outside the hotel. On our way to the car. I've kept the bill up to date, so paying won't take a moment.'