`Tweed has become the ultimate target. Through you.
And you did well. But from now on you'd better be more on the alert than you've ever been in your life.' `Understood.'
`And now, if Messrs Fanshawe and Burgoyne are still sitting in the Hilton with their aperitifs, let's see how they react. When they spot you.'
The four of them were still sitting in the lounge area with full glasses in front of them: Burgoyne, who sat next to Lee, Willie, who sat next to Helen. Newman reckoned they must be on their third aperitif. Paula watched them closely as they approached their table.
It was Willie, of course, who jumped up with a beaming smile and started fetching chairs. As he arranged them he chatted away.
`Looking in the pink. Both of you. Can't beat a walk in the sun. Used to stroll about a lot myself back in Hong Kong. Get brown as a berry in no time at all out there. In the season. Ah, for the old days of sunlight and swarming humanity. Really felt alive. Paula, you come and sit between me and Helen. This do you, Newman? There's a good chap.'
`I suppose you'd like a drink,' Burgoyne said in his usual offhand manner.
`If there's one on offer,' Newman replied, staring directly at him. 'What about you, Paula?'
`Mineral water, no ice, no lemon, please.'
`I'll have a double Scotch. Neat,' Newman decided.
Burgoyne summoned a waiter in his usual lordly manner – beckoning with an index finger. Undoubtedly, Newman was thinking, servants had come rushing forward in Hong Kong when signalled with the same gesture. Burgoyne ordered the drinks.
`Don't go away,' he snapped. 'I'm not finished. I'd like a cigar.'
The humidor was brought instantly. Burgoyne, taking his time, performed the ritual. After examining the array on offer, he lifted out a cigar, put it close to his ear, rolled it round in his fingers, sniffed it briefly.
`That'll do.'
`A cigar cutter, sir?'
`Got my own. And hurry up those drinks. My guests will die of thirst.'
`Maurice,' Willie protested mildly, 'you do rather trample on these waiters.'
Burgoyne glared at him. 'They deserve it. If they had any guts they wouldn't be waiters – spending their lives fawning on people.'
`I've met some very good waiters,' Paula contradicted him. 'Trained at the best hotels.'
`You wouldn't damn well think it – the time they take to bring a couple of drinks.'
`They haven't been long,' Paula responded, refusing to back down.
Burgoyne stared at her, his ice-cold eyes seeming to gaze right through her, to read her mind. She stared back. How many poor subalterns had dropped their eyes before that stare, she wondered. The man had the soul of an iceberg. Helen intervened to lower the tension.
`I see you've been shopping. Something nice?'
Her cool grey eyes watched as Paula pulled out from the carrier the pair of boots. Leaning forward, Helen ran her strong slim fingers over the leather. She looked at Paula as she commented.
`They're so supple. Even so, I couldn't wear them – boots always chafe my legs.'
`And a very choice pair of legs to chafe,' Burgoyne remarked, his expression more saturnine than ever.
`We're talking about the boots,' Lee snapped. She reached over, took one, smoothed her hand down its surface. To do so she had placed her fat jewelled cigarette holder on the table. Paula's hand stretched out to examine it. Lee snatched it up with her other hand. `Don't think me rude, but the jewels drop out easily. It was a present from a rich boy friend. When I didn't come across with what he'd expected he turned ugly. So I dropped him – but I kept the present.' She handed back the boot, inserted a cigarette in the holder without lighting it, and turned to Burgoyne.
`Maurice,' she said, throwing back a wave of blonde hair, 'you could buy me a pair like those.'
`I could,' he agreed cynically.
Quite clearly he had no intention of granting her suggestion. At that moment a waiter came up and spoke to Willie.
`A phone call for you, sir.'
`What a bore.' Willie stood up immediately, moved far more quickly than was his custom, beaming round the table. 'Please excuse me, I'd better take the call in my room. So much noise down here…'
Willie had scarcely left them when the waiter returned and spoke to Burgoyne.
`There's a phone call too for you, sir.'
`Must be Liege,' Burgoyne said to himself. He raised his voice. 'Transfer it to my room – my files are up there. You do know my room number by now, I hope. And I'll sign that bill for the drinks which were eventually served…'
A few minutes earlier, inside his study at the Waterloo villa, Dr Wand glanced up as the uniformed chauffeur he'd summoned entered the room. He was still wearing his dark glasses.
`Joseph, get me Vulcan on the phone, if you would be so kind. You know his hotel and room number…'
He had to wait a short while as the chauffeur talked to the switchboard operator at the Hilton. Wand's lips were pursed as he took the phone.
`I am here,' a man's voice said. 'Who is this?'
`I am speaking and I have to tell you I am most displeased. A young woman was to be our guest, collected by car. I have just heard that instead of having the pleasure of her company the invitation was mishandled. Very badly mishandled, if I may say.'
`My apologies…'
`I am, as you know, extremely uninterested in apologies. I am only interested in results.'
`It was a rush arrangement. I warned you when we last spoke that such hurried arrangements are dangerous.'
`Now, how right you are,' Wand said in a deceptively soft tone. 'I distinctly recall some such comment. I also recall that you assured me my instruction would be dealt with nevertheless. I would even go so far as to say you have created a complete fiasco. To such an extent, the next invitation will be that much more difficult.'
`I assure you…'
`I am also extremely uninterested in assurances. Your new instruction is to co-operate with Joseph. I feel that he may well succeed where you have failed. Would you feel offended if I asked whether you have grasped my instruction? I repeat, you will be so good as to co-operate with Joseph. He will be in touch with you in due course. In fact, my dear sir, very shortly.'
Wand put down the phone before the man at the other end had a chance to reply. He sat back in his chair and the chauffeur remained very still and silent. The eyes behind the gold pince-nez were blank as he studied Joseph.
His manner changed suddenly, became amiable. He waved a hand and the desk light flashed off a ruby ring.
`Paula Grey is the lady whose company we wish to enjoy. I have the utmost confidence in your ability to accomplish this small task. Study the lie of the land – as a successful commander always relies on first carrying out a thorough reconnaissance.'
`I will make my move at the earliest opportunity,' the chauffeur replied.
29
`Did you notice any reaction – surprise, chagrin – among those four when we walked in?' Newman asked.
He was alone with her in the lounge of the Hilton. Lee and Helen had gone to their rooms to freshen up and both Willie and Burgoyne had not returned from taking their phone calls. Newman sipped his whisky as Paula frowned.
