that was the word she used – with her?' she teased.
`They could have followed us in another taxi.'
`I think you want to keep an eye on them,' she probed. `I want us to be first off this plane,' he told her.
Tweed was always pleased to arrive in Hamburg. It had the reputation of being the most 'English' of all German cities. Not that it was a bit like London: the description referred to the friendly attitude of the inhabitants.
`That plane flew like a rusty sewing machine,' Newman remarked. 'And vibrated like one.'
Tweed and Paula were travelling with him in a taxi from the airport. The vehicle had been crawling in a traffic jam down a tree-lined boulevard. The air was fresh, the atmosphere rural.
`It got us here,' Tweed reminded him. 'And in interesting company.'
`Lee nearly had a row with the steward after we'd at long last taken off. She put a cigarette into that fat holder of hers. The steward told her it was a non-smoking plane. She eventually got it across to him she had no intention of lighting the cigarette. And how the blazes did they come to be aboard?'
`I think I've worked it out,' Tweed said. 'Don't ask me yet. I want to be sure.'
`It doesn't seem possible,' Paula insisted. 'You brought us the tickets. As soon as we arrived we boarded that funny little bus which dropped us close to the plane. So where did they get the time to work it out? Maybe it is a coincidence.'
`Don't believe in them,' Tweed advised.
Newman looked back through the rear window. Butler and Nield had taken separate taxis. Marler had told him before they left the Hilton that he'd be hiring a car. A man who always liked independent transport.
They arrived at the palatial entrance to the Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten – the Four Seasons – and uniformed porters appeared immediately to take their luggage. Tweed hurried up the wide steps into the luxurious interior. Monica had booked rooms for them and the receptionist informed Tweed their accommodation was ready. After registering he showed Paula his room number, entered the lift by himself, then walked straight out again as he spotted the concierge who had been so helpful on his last visit.
`I want to visit a friend of mine who lives near Blankenese. Hugo Westendorf. Can you give me the exact address and his phone number?'
`The Schloss Tannenberg,' the concierge replied promptly. 'But not quite as far as Blankenese. The schloss is in the district of Nienstedten. You reach it before you arrive at Blankenese. Now, the phone number – and I will draw you a little map to locate the schloss. It is difficult on a printed map…'
Tweed had his old room, number 311, which was more like a suite. There was a lounge area near the windows overlooking the lake – the Binnen Alster. Tipping the porter, Tweed sat down to phone the number as soon as he was alone. The odd atmosphere began with his phone call. He tried speaking in English first.
`My name is Tweed. I know Mr Westendorf. I have just arrived from England and would like to speak to him.'
I understand,' the man's voice at the other end replied. `It would be helpful if you would stay on the line for a moment or two…'
Tweed waited. The butler? The voice had sounded very official but hardly that of a servant. Tweed realized the line was probably tapped – as had been Andover's and, later, Delvaux's. He had reached the stage where he wanted to stir up the opposition. The voice came back.
`Mr Westendorf will be happy to see you this evening. If you could arrive at 6 pm. May I ask where you are staying?'
`The Four Seasons Hotel, room number 311.'
`Thank you, sir. We will be expecting you. At 6 pm.'
Tweed was disturbed as he put down the phone. Nothing had been as he'd expected. He had anticipated Westendorf answering the phone – if anyone at all had responded to his call. He had pictured the German existing on his own inside the schloss – his wife had died several years ago.
Westendorf had one seventeen-year-old son. Tweed had assumed he might well have been kidnapped. Something strange had compelled the German to throw up his career without warning. What was going on in Germany? Tweed sensed the pattern he had uncovered with Andover and Delvaux was now being repeated in Hamburg. Someone tapped on the door. It was Paula.
`What a lovely room,' she enthused. 'And a super view from the window.'
`I think they've installed that lovely fountain gushing in the middle of the lake since I was last here. Maybe I've forgotten it.'
`And if I know you, you've forgotten it's time we went down and had some lunch.'
`Something quick. I don't feel like a full-dress effort. I know. The bar…'
Newman was about to knock on the door when they went into the corridor. Paula was revelling in the peace of the hotel. A chambermaid wished them `Guten Tag' as they entered the lift. The bar opened off the spacious lobby which had a large sitting area. Small and comfortably furnished with leather banquettes, the bar was empty except for the barman who came forward.
`I can make do with ham sandwiches – if that's all right with both of you,' Tweed suggested.
`And to drink, sir?' the barman enquired.
`A bottle of champagne,' Newman decided.
`Mineral water for me,' Tweed ordered.
Once the barman had gone Tweed told them about his call to the Schloss Tannenberg. He had just finished when Marler peered in. He gave a discreet thumbs-up sign and disappeared.
`That means he's got a car,' Newman said.
`It will be after dark when we get there,' Tweed ruminated aloud. 'Odd the emphasis that man put on six pm.'
`We'll find out when we get there,' Newman assured him.
At 5.15 pm. Tweed, muffled against the cold in an overcoat, collar turned up, was walking up and down outside the hotel with Paula. She also wore her coat buttoned to her neck. The night was clear, star-studded, and the temperature had dropped below zero. It was the first day of December.
Newman stood smoking a cigarette as a very large black Mercedes 600 pulled in to the kerb. Paula stared at its size as, behind the wheel, Marler called out through his open window.
`Don't just stand there freezing. Hop in.'
They had left the outskirts of Hamburg behind when Tweed asked the question. They were moving through a district of impressive two-storey villas in spacious grounds behind high railings. Hardly any other traffic.
`How on earth did you get hold of this mobile palace?' he asked.
`Oh,' Marler drawled, 'I said I was driving a top official to visit a Minister. After all, he was one – once.' He eyed Tweed in the rear-view mirror. 'This chariot is costing you a bomb. And from the map you gave me we're nearly there.'
Paula, revelling in the space, the warmth from the heaters, caught glimpses of the solid villas as the headlights swung round bends. A very expensive area.
Marler suddenly stopped, stiffened like a fox scenting danger. He had been driving slowly for the past five minutes, peering at elaborate name plates by the side of high gates and illuminated with lanterns. All the gates had been shut but this pair was open. Schloss Tannenberg. Tweed sensed his alertness.
`Something wrong?'
`I think you ought to go in equipped.' He opened a hold-all on the seat beside him, produced a. 32 Browning automatic which he handed Paula with spare ammo. For Newman he had a hip holster, a Smith amp; Wesson. 38 Special with ammo. Before replying to Tweed he waited while Newman strapped on the hip holster, checked the gun, loaded it, slipped it inside the holster, put his jacket and coat on again. Paula had slipped her Browning into her shoulder-bag after checking and loading it.
`Something is wrong,' Marler reported. 'Look out of the window. Gates wide open – and one of those dragon's teeth chains laid across the drive a few yards beyond the entrance.'
`But where did you get the weapons?' Tweed demanded.
He was annoyed: they had no permits to carry weapons inside Germany. On the other hand Benoit had warned about 'a zone of maximum danger'.
`This afternoon – while you were all having a kip – I was busy,' Marler said in an ironic tone. 'I visited a
