A large green park with toy trees. No one inside it at that hour. The pulling sensation began again. He walked on. It seemed a hell of a long way round. Then he saw the others. Butler, Newman, Benoit and Van Gorp with Paula who stared in his direction, gave him a warm smile but stood her ground.
'Fantastic tower this,' Van Gorp began again.
'How high are we?' Tweed asked.
'A hundred and four metres – three hundred and forty feet. The restaurant is just below us. Then there's the crow's nest up there. That's closed in with glass…'
Then why the hell didn't you take us there? Paula thought. This is agony for Tweed, but he won't let on. And I can't do a damn thing.
'Look up,' Van Gorp urged. 'See the tower going on higher above the crow's nest? Spectacular is the only word.'
'Great. Just great.'
Tweed looked up and the vertigo seemed worse. The immense height of the needle made him feel dizzy again. He looked up for what would seem a normal length of time, then dropped his gaze. The Dutchman was pointing now, one long arm raised, index finger extended.
'Like to take a look at the Space Tower, Tweed? This down here is nothing compared with up there. Right at the very top. Take you to the lift. Come on. Your ticket covers the trip…'
'Have we the time?' Paula asked.
'Only take a few minutes. See half Holland from up there. Almost. The North Sea, too. Not to be missed.'
'I'm getting rather thirsty,' Paula persisted.
'We can go to the restaurant while Tweed makes the trip on his own. It's a much smaller lift. See the diameter up there? Very narrow. This way, Tweed.'
The round trip, as the Americans say,' joked Tweed.
He followed Van Gorp who led him to another lift at a higher level, pressing the button. Paula was nearly going spare. Tweed saw her expression, shook his head.
'Go get a drink. Be back soon. No time at all…'
Newman came alongside her as Tweed entered the lift. They watched the doors close on him. 'Why didn't you go up with him, you thoughtless idiot?' she hissed. 'It will be a terrible ordeal – suffering as he does from vertigo.'
'Oh, my God! I'd forgotten – absorbed by the view. You're right. ..'
'I doubt if you've any idea what vertigo's like,' she went on.
'Paula,' he whispered, 'vertigo takes different forms. Once I went up by lift to the top of the Duomo in Milan - the Cathedral. Only a hundred feet up. I came out into the open, walked down a flight of steps at the front, then noticed I could see between the stone balustrade pillars down into the street. I was paralysed. Luckily no one was about – I crawled back up those steps.' He raised his voice, called out to Van Gorp waiting to lead them down to the restaurant.
'How high up is that Space Tower?'
'One hundred and eighty-five metres-six hundred feet.'
'Charming,' Newman muttered.
'Oh, one point I forgot to mention,' Van Gorp said. That Space Tower is a small glass cabin which revolves.'
'Jesus!' Newman muttered again. 'Now he tells us. Maybe I'd better go up…'
'Not now,' Paula snapped. Too late – it will be noticed. He'll cope. Somehow.'
Penned up inside the much smaller elevator Tweed was tempted to press the button for the crow's nest. Briefly. He pressed his thumb firmly against the top button and stood motionless.
The elevator shot up much faster than he'd expected, climbing like a rocket. He felt he'd left his stomach behind on the platform. The ascent – up nearly another three hundred feet – took only a few seconds. It will be better at this height, Tweed thought. Like looking down from a plane which never bothered me. The doors slid open, he stepped out.
It wasn't better, it was worse. The elevator doors closed behind him. He was alone inside a small circular cage with glass walls. The light was a glare. He took out a pouch, attached his clip-on tinted glasses over his spectacles, moved close to the glass window.
The sun was setting behind the distant horizon of the sea, a blood-red disc sliding out of sight. Blood. Lots of blood. Why did he think of that now? The sun sank from view. He removed the tinted lenses. He looked down and shuddered. He was gazing down the sheer side of the precipice-like column with a bird's-eye view of the platform so far below. He blinked, feeling disorientated. It felt as though the floor was moving. An illusion… God, no! He looked up again and saw the view had changed. The floor was revolving.
He felt giddy. The world began spinning slowly. He was going to faint. Never! Extracting a tube of mints from his pocket, he popped one in his mouth. The bitter taste revived him. Must get on with the job.
Tweed took the binoculars from another pocket, adjusted the focus, aiming them at the mouth of the Maas. The giant dredger was still working, the scoop bringing up muck from the bottom of the river entrance. He raised a little the angle of the glasses, slowly scanned the sea.
Some distance offshore a large liner was approaching from the north, moving very slowly, speckled with lights. He swung the glass further south. Much further away another vessel coming in, a ship which had to be very big – from its silhouette he guessed it was a supertanker. Directly opposite the mouth of the Maas his glass picked up a tiny speck. The Sealink ferry sailing in from Harwich? Some idea twitched at the back of his mind, then it was gone.
He stood very stiffly, sweat forming on his brow, his legs like jelly. If only the damned thing would keep still. He forced his body to turn round, to look in another direction. Two large helicopters were flying in from the north, about to land at Zestienhoven – Rotterdam Airport. A couple of Sikorskys. He watched them drop out of sight.
From that height he could see the spires and towers of The Hague, the home of that stupid Minister of the Interior. Still, he thought, we have enough of those back home.
He popped another mint in his mouth, took one last look down at the layout below. Rotterdam was studded with lights – more coming on every second. What the devil was that idea he'd had at the back of his mind? He pursed his lips, pressed the button for the elevator.
'Are you all right?' Paula strolled forward as he stepped out on to the platform level. She had been waiting for him, pretending to be taking another look at the view. No one was about as she took his arm.
'I'm OK. How high was I?'
'Six hundred feet!'
'Felt a bit like it. Oh, and they move the floor around to give more excitement. You get used to it…'
'You've lost colour. The others are in the restaurant. A drop of fresh air – just at the entrance to the platform -would work wonders.'
They stood for a minute or two and Tweed took in deep breaths. He suddenly felt better, almost normal. He lifted one leg, then another. The strength was coming back into them. Thanking her, he said he was ready for a cup of coffee.
The restaurant had tables at two levels – those perched up further away from the windows. Van Gorp, sitting next to a window with Butler alongside him, waved. No one else occupied a table near them.
Tweed saw the huge windows which slanted outwards. Again he experienced the being-pulled-over-the-edge sensation. Paula sensed his disquiet. 'Let's take one of the tables higher up,' she said brightly.
'No, we'll join them.'
Paula went ahead, sat down in the window seat and Tweed took the chair beside her. He ordered coffee for both of them and stared out of the window. The congestion of shipping inside the basins, moving up and down the Maas, was enormous.
'Enjoy yourself on top?' Van Gorp enquired breezily.
'A unique experience. Quite unique.' He leaned forward. 'Why do I feel this place should be watched?'
'Just asked the very same question myself,' said Butler.
'It is,' the Dutchman replied, lowering his voice. 'You see those two men sitting at a table by themselves? My men. Armed. I could only spare a couple – I'm stretched to the limit checking the river and the docks.'
