disposal. I suspect far more than would give us a good night's rest. I've little doubt it's going to take all the resources we can muster to cope with the devious Dr Wand.'
`Your trip to London was successful?' Paula enquired. `I think so …'
Tweed proceeded to give them all a concise account of who he had met, what they had told him, and the plans he had made for co-operation from certain key people.
`I'd say you've been on the trot,' Marler concluded.
`You could say that. One important point we must deal with at once. The weapons Benoit loaned us. Marler, I need that hold-all you carry about – with the Armalite inside it..' He continued as Marler left the room. 'All those weapons must be dumped into the hold-all and I'll give them back to Benoit. Airport security.. Marler returned, and when the weapons were inside Tweed zipped it up.
`Back in a minute. Benoit, who met me at the airport, said he'd wait in the car half an hour in case I wanted to consult him.'
Newman looked round the room when Tweed had gone. Paula had finished her unpacking and was staring out of the window where a grey drizzle was gradually blotting out the city.
`We'd better brace ourselves,' Newman said. 'He's in his dynamo of action stage…'
Walking outside into the wet, Tweed saw a new doorman by the side of Benoit's car, obviously enquiring who he was. Benoit, without looking at him, held up his identity folder, staring ahead. The doorman retreated rapidly. Benoit leaned over, opened the front passenger- seat door, and Tweed sat beside him.
Handing back the hold-all containing the weapons, Tweed thanked him. He then showed him a photo.
`Does the place marked with a cross on the map mean anything to you?'
`Odd you should bring that up. I was talking to one of the officials at Ghent's Town Hall recently. It's a new housing development. Only recently occupied – six months or so ago. Vieux-Fontaine. Not even signposted.'
`Who lives there?'
`No one seems to know. The rumour is they're calling themselves executives – but really they're top security personnel who guard our high-life EC Commissioners. I happen to know that's rubbish. Since they haven't committed any known criminal offence no one is bothered.'
`They may well be saboteurs and spies smuggled into the country. Please leave them in peace – until I contact you. Then raid the place at a mutually agreed time.'
`You usually know what you're doing.' Benoit paused. `I'm going back to headquarters now. I'll organize a strike force to be ready for when you warn me.'
`I'm leaving Brussels tomorrow. Thank you for all your co-operation – especially with that helicopter armada which descended on Liege Airport.'
`It was nothing.' Benoit gripped Tweed's arm. 'Now I urge you to take care of yourself. I sense you could be walking into a zone of maximum danger.'
`Hamburg.'
`I couldn't interview Dr Wand, but I did send men to watch his Lear jet on standby at Zaventem. The security officer told them the pilot had filed a flight plan. For Hamburg. Late this afternoon Dr Wand left aboard that jet with a Luxemburger called Starmberg. A zone of maximum danger,' Benoit repeated.
35
The flight for Hamburg aboard Hamburg Airlines was due to take off at 11.15 a.m. As Paula walked alongside Tweed towards the waiting aircraft she asked the question which had been intriguing her.
`Why Hamburg?'
'To see Hugo Westendorf, the one-time Iron Man of Germany who retired three months or so ago without warning. He was Minister of the Interior.'
`Retired? Suddenly? You don't think…'
`That it's another case like Andover and Delvaux? Yes, I think exactly that,' Tweed said grimly. 'We're going to meet another broken man. I suspect the charming Dr Wand has a long list.'
Newman, followed by Nield and Butler, caught up with them as they approached the aircraft. A staircase led up to the entrance. Newman stared in disbelief.
`What are those things sticking out at the front?' `Propellers, as you well know,' Tweed replied.
`A prop aircraft? I'm not mad keen on them. I prefer a jet.'
`Aircraft with only one propeller won us the Battle of Britain,' Tweed reminded him, suppressing a smile. 'It will get us there.'
`When does this thing reach Hamburg?' Newman asked in a disgruntled tone.
`Thirteen hundred hours. I'm sure it will be prompt.' `Sounds as though it goes via Paris…'
Paula was settled next to Tweed, who had a window seat, when she nudged him. She could hardly believe her eyes.
`Look who else is coming on board. I don't understand what is happening. Are we being followed? How did they find out we'd been on this flight?'
`Too many questions,' Tweed replied, gazing out of the window.
Brigadier Burgoyne, carrying an expensive case, was walking down the aisle. He looked neither to right nor to left as he followed the steward and barked out the order.
`We want four seats at the back of the plane…'
Lee Holmes followed him at a more leisurely pace. Stopping by Paula, she leaned across her to speak to Tweed.
`What a super coincidence. I did enjoy our frolic at the Copenhagen Tavern.'
`My pleasure.' Tweed was still staring out of the window.
`Where are you staying in Hamburg?' Lee persisted, throwing a wave of blonde hair over her coat collar.
`Four Seasons Hotel,' he said brusquely.
`May see you…'
She had to move on as Helen Claybourne nudged her back with her own case. Helen walked straight past without saying one word, hurrying to catch up. Willie brought up the rear, halted with a beaming smile as he addressed Paula.
`I really had a fabulous time with you. Best company I had by far in Brussels. Everybody else seemed utterly second-rate. Love to repeat the experience at the earliest opportunity. Oh, dear, I'm holding up the troops. Until next time…'
The aircraft was equipped with thirty-six passenger seats. It was half empty when they closed the door and Paula glanced back. The Burgoyne quartet was seated at the rear, well out of earshot. Newman had his face buried in a newspaper: she suspected he hadn't looked up as the new arrivals passed him. Butler and Nield sat away from each other in separate seats. The propellers began to spin, jerkily at first, then racing into a circular blur. Slowly the machine moved forward, accelerated, and then they were airborne.
Paula waited until the pilot announced, first in German, then in English, that they would be flying at a maximum altitude of 21,000 feet and at a speed of 500 k.p.h. Paula looked back at Newman who made a gesture of disgust. The vibration was greater than on a jet.
`You didn't seem pleased to see them come aboard,' she said to Tweed.
`That was the impression I wished to create,' he replied cryptically.
`The Burgoyne quartet.' Paula rather liked the phrase. `It sounds like a jazz combo.' She chuckled.
Tweed's expression was blank. He felt sure Vulcan was on board. But who was he? To say nothing of a woman who was a professional assassin. And who was she?
He went on gazing out of the window. For the first part of the flight they might have been passing over the Arctic. Tumbled masses of white clouds gleamed in the sunlight. Here and there a towering cloud summit looked like some massive iceberg. As they came closer to Hamburg the weather cleared. Tweed looked down with interest on a mosaic of neat green and brown cultivated farmland. They passed over a blue lake, dense islands of green forest. From this lower altitude he had a much better view. The plane had begun its descent…
`Why did you tell her where we're staying?' Paula asked. 'Are you looking forward to another frolic – I think
