The hot, airless afternoon drifted past. Waiters brought an endless supply of trays stacked with food, with more glasses of wine. Tweed studied the other guests. Smartly-dressed men and women. Middle class. But Germany these days was almost one great middle class. Local businessmen and merchants with their wives. Doubtless a few marzipan kings. Lubeck was famous for its marzipan.
Some faces he recognized from his prowls round the marinas. The sailing buffs. But no one he could see from the old Kenya brigade.
Tun, isn't it?' Diana said. 'Hove parties…'
`Must have cost him a mint of money,' Tweed replied. 'Where does Dr Berlin get his money from?'
`Various organizations which support his activities to help the refugees. Most of the guests here will have contributed to one association or another. They feel they are all right, so they give something to help the less fortunate…'
'I wonder if anyone audits his books?'
`Cynic!'
The party broke up suddenly in a riot of confusion at exactly six o'clock.
The three of them were standing near the entrance gates – which had been closed – when the fleet of cars pulled in at the kerb. Kuhlmann himself pushed open the right-hand 'gate, followed by a team of men in plain clothes.
Danny Warning tried to stop him. Kuhlmann shoved his identity folder in the stocky security chief's face. He pushed him aside roughly, shouting orders to his companions.
`This is private property,' Warning rasped.
`And this…' Kuhlmann shoved a piece of paper in his face, 'is a warrant to search the grounds and the premises. Get out of my way or you're arrested…'
A sudden hush fell over the crowd of guests. A sea of faces turned as Kuhlmann marched across the lawn towards the mansion. With a gesture he summoned Tweed, Newman and Diana to follow him. The team of men with him spread out, taking guests' names.
They broke out beyond the crowd and Tweed stopped as Kuhlmann wrenched up the rope with a savage jerk. Tweed grasped both Newman and Diana by the arm as Kuhlmann moved across the open lawn.
'Look,' said Tweed. 'The terrace…'
Dr Berlin's special guests still sat at the oblong table, all faces turned towards Kuhlmann. But there was a gap in the centre. Dr Berlin's chair was empty.
'Diana,' Tweed said urgently, 'is there any other way out of this place?'
'Only the drive alongside the lawn…'
As she spoke Tweed heard the sound of a car's engine driving past them down the drive concealed behind trees towards the Mecklenburger-strasse. He turned and began running for the gates. Diana was amazed at how fast he could move. Newman ran after him and Diana followed.
Tweed reached the gate as a black Mercedes with tinted windows swung out of the drive and past the gates heading for the ferry. He ran after the vehicle, thanked God he was wearing the safari jacket Diana had persuaded him to buy. He kept on running and in the distance he saw the ferry was about to leave. He paced himself, running more steadily, covering a lot of ground.
He was in time to see the Mercedes – which had a tinted rear window – driving aboard the ferry. He kept on running. The silhouette of a man sitting in the rear turned and looked back. Tweed had a vague impression of a head wearing a beret, a black beard. Dr Berlin gave him a little wave and then the ramp was raised and the ferry departed for Travemunde.
Tweed stopped running, swore aloud, stood panting to regain his breath as Newman and Diana caught up with him. `He got away,' said Tweed, wiping sweat off his brow. `You look furious,' Diana said. 'Why?'
`The bastard waved at me. But it's not that. I know that man. I've seen him before. Talked to him. I'm sure of it.'
`That's impossible,' Newman objected.
`I know him,' Tweed repeated. 'That little wave he gave me. Give me time. I'll remember…'
Fifteen
They boarded the ferry when it returned. Diana walked by herself to the bows and stood, arms folded, gazing at Travemunde. Tweed stayed back amidships with Newman.
`Let her alone,' he advised, 'something has upset her. When we get off I'll take her back to the Sudwind. She said something significant recently and I'm damned if I can. recall what it was. Maybe talking to her will bring it back…'
`In any case you like her,' Newman remarked drily. `And how will you spend your time?' countered Tweed.
`I have to report on the party to Ann Grayle. I promised her I would.'
`Then you must do your duty,' Tweed replied with a blank expression.
He had noticed a change in Newman's attitude to women since his return to London from the year in France. During his time abroad, Newman had told him, he had wandered round France on his own, trying to forget the bizarre murder of his wife in Estonia. He'd had nothing to do with women while in France. Now, gradually, he was returning to normal. His preoccupation with Ann Grayle proved the point.
`Why do you think Kuhlmann organized that raid on Dr Berlin's home?' Newman asked.
`No idea. One thing is for sure. The operation was Kuhlmann at his best and most ruthless. He exploited the element of surprise to the limit. The choice of timing.'
`I don't follow you…'
`Six o'clock in the evening. On the dot. He let the party get well under way. Everyone – including the guards – would be in a relaxed mood. Kuhlmann struck when they were at their most vulnerable. And that includes the guests.'
Tweed remained silent until the ferry was slowing prior to landing. He made his request as a throwaway remark.
`One thing I'd like you to do. Find out where Diana gets her money from. She has no visible means of support, as they say.'
`Ann Grayle has a pretty acid answer to that one…'
`Try that man she has on board. Ben. I must be off now. We can meet back at the Jensen…'
Diana was waiting for him just beyond the lowered ramp. She looped her arm inside his. Under her wide- brimmed hat her face looked even whiter than usual and he sensed her nervousness. It was the hottest hour of the day. The sun beat down on Travemunde, the ground gave up the heat it had absorbed during the day, the air was foetid.
Will you come back with me to the boat, Tweedy?'
`Of course. We can have a talk. That was a somewhat shattering end to the party…'
`And I'm responsible. Wait till we get to the boat and then I'll explain.'
`Champers do you?' she asked as they walked over the gangplank.
`Splendid idea. You're full of them.' Tweed's mood had become jocular. 'Let me uncork the bottle. Then we won't get half of it on the deck instead of inside us.'
He followed her down the companionway and she opened the fridge, produced a bottle and held it up for his inspection. 'Dom Perignon? Appeals?'
Tweed took the bottle and began peeling off the foil. She placed glasses on the working top, crossed to the leather couch and perched on it, her legs coiled beneath her like a cat.
`Oh, look,' she said, 'there's an envelope propped against the cupboard. Be a darling and open it for me. Later…'
Tweed had already noticed the envelope. Expensive paper. Her name was typed in capitals. DIANA CHADWICK. He opened the bottle, poured into the two tulip glasses she had placed on the counter, and carried them over to the couch. She eased her way to one end.
