`That's your problem. You're in charge of the executive side of the operation. You are using your own people. My role is that of observer. I repeat, what are you going to do?'
It had become you, not we, Wolf noted cynically. He adjusted his heavy horn-rim glasses, sat down behind his desk and re-read the latest report while Lysenko prowled and fumed.
`As I said,' he began eventually, 'Balkan is in place…'
`And that was my idea years ago,' Lysenko reminded him. `One of the most audacious manoeuvres my organization has carried out. A bigger Philby at the centre of Tweed's outfit…'
`Whose identity I have protected,' Wolf replied waspishly.
`Agreed. But we must use him to the fullest extent – take a risk if we have to.'
`We'll speed things up,' Wolf decided. 'I'll get a message to Munzel. But I'm never happy about rushing things.'
`It is your decision,' Lysenko replied artfully.
`And I am capable of doing just that – taking a decision. We will get things moving within the next few days…' Wolf put his hand on the receiver and lifted it.
`Dr Berlin has arrived, Bob,' Diana said. 'He is holding one of his parties and you are invited…'
Mid-morning. They were sitting at one of the sidewalk tables outside the Jensen having a pre-lunch drink. It had become part of their daily routine. To sit and chat in the warmth before the great heat built up. Diana wore her straw hat tilted at an angle to shade her face. She looked up as Tweed came out.
`You're invited to a party, Tweedy…' Newman hid a smile. She was the only person he'd ever known get away with calling him that. Tweed sat down and began cleaning his glasses on his handkerchief.
`That's nice. Thank you. Tell me about it…'
`Oh, you don't thank me. It's Dr Berlin's party as I was just explaining to Bob.' She looked at Newman with mock severity. `I have to tell you there are conditions. No interviews. You will be the only reporter there…'
`I expect one of the locals will sneak in,' Newman replied.
`They won't, you know! There will be guards on the gate. Dogs will patrol the grounds. You will have to show proof of identification before they let you in. Preferably your passport…'
`Sounds like a concentration camp,' Tweed observed amiably. 'I would like to know more before I accept – if that doesn't sound ungracious. Where will the party be held, what time, what day?'
`The day after tomorrow. Three o'clock in the afternoon we turn up. You can both escort me. The venue is Dr Berlin's mansion on Priwall Island opposite Travemunde. In the Mecklenburgerstrasse – that's the main road which runs like a ruler on and on until you reach the border. Full stop then!'
`I know,' said Tweed, and noticed the surprise she showed.
`I have been studying a map of the area,' he explained. 'How do we let Dr Berlin know we accept?'
`Oh, you can leave that to me.' She paused to swallow the rest of her drink. 'I give you both solemn warning you probably won't actually meet your host. He's very shy and reserved.'
`You mean we won't even see him?' Tweed asked.
`Oh, he'll be on the lawn. But probably surrounded by cronies. He doesn't expect guests to approach him – not even to thank him. In fact,' she made a moue, 'he positively dislikes it…'
`How long has he been on Priwall Island?' Tweed asked casually.
`No idea.' Diana adjusted the angle of her hat. 'Now, if you two don't mind, I think I'll trot along and let him know you're coming. He'll be so pleased…'
`Can't you phone him?' Newman suggested.
`Not the done thing. Besides, I have a tiny present to give him. I always do that when he turns up at Priwall…'
`I'll walk you to the station…'
Newman stood up with her but she shook her head and gave him a warm smile. Tapping him on the wrist with her rolled sunshade, she followed up this gesture by opening the shade which was brightly coloured. She was in one of her devilish moods and spun round in a circle like a ballet dancer.
`Hate that slow old train. I can drive over in my runabout – the sturdy old Volkswagen. 'Bye, both. See you here for dinner tonight..
`She's quite a girl,' Tweed said, watching her until she vanished up a side street.
`She must be – to get you inside that safari jacket…'
Diana had insisted Tweed wasn't dressed for the climate. She had coaxed him inside a shop and made him try on three safari jackets. To Newman's amazement he had bought one and followed it up with the purchase of a straw hat.
`That girl has you in the palm of her hand, Tweed.'
`I like her.' Tweed lowered his voice. 'But now I have a job for you. Check Diana Chadwick's background with a fine-tooth comb. I want to know her history since the day she was born in Hampstead – just assuming she was born in Hampstead.'
In his bedroom Tweed's manner changed completely. He tossed the straw hat on the bed while Newman watched, took off the safari jacket and slung that after the hat. He closed both of the windows and now the room was quiet, the noise of the traffic coming in to Lubeck over the bridge muffled.
`I didn't realize you were sceptical about Diana,' Newman commented.
`I'm sceptical about everybody.' Tweed paced slowly round the room, assembling his thoughts. 'They may be using her simply as a conduit, of course.'
`Conduit?'
`Yes. Surely you realize what has happened. I've worn them down, forced them into making the first approach. There will be someone at this party held by Dr Berlin who wants to get a good look at me -at the very least. Get started, Bob. Everything you can dig up on Dr Berlin…'
`That could be a tall order. According to Diana he doesn't encourage people to get close to him.'
`Which is interesting in itself. I've an idea your best bet could be the floaters – those strange British ex- colonials who live on boats and commute annually between the Baltic and the Med.'
`Has something else happened? You seem more animated…'
'As a matter of fact, yes. The loaded pause is ended, I suspect. I told Monica to let Howard know I was staying here at the Jensen. Harry Masterson rang while you were having your drink with Diana. From Vienna. I have to go to a phone booth at the station and call him back at exactly noon. He has some information he doesn't want passing through the hotel switchboard. He made it sound very urgent..
`I'll come with you.'
`We'll walk over to the Hauptbahnhof in a few minutes. Also, and this is a strange coincidence, Erich Lindemann then phoned. He's travelling down from Copenhagen to meet me at Puttgarden, the ferry point this side of the Baltic…'
`When?'
`Late this afternoon. I'll give you the details later. He also has information. Refused to give me even a hint on the phone. A very cautious chap, Erich.'
`So, one way or another everyone is converging on Liibeck. Two of the four suspects, anyway. Have you still no idea who it is? Hugh Grey, Masterson, Lindemann or Dalby?'
`Not a whisker of an idea.' Tweed rubbed his hands together. `The main thing is things are moving. I have an idea that from now on the pace will go on accelerating.'
`Monitor here,' said Tweed, confined inside the phone booth at the Hauptbahnhof. 'What news about the deal?'
`Prefect calling. Details of the deal pretty confidential. I take it you are outside, old boy?'
Unmistakably Harry Masterson, his bluff voice booming, and he had responded to the schoolboyish identification Tweed had devised. He disliked it but any operator listening in who understood English well would think they were a typical pair of Britishers.
I'm outside,' Tweed assured him. 'How is the deal going?' `They won't conclude without a ten per cent reduction in the price…'
`That's steep. Have to think about it.'
`Oh, another thing…' Masterson spoke as though it was just a minor matter… a gentleman you ought to know about is heading for your part of the world. Nicknamed The Cripple. He came over near Gmund. That report is
