`Listen. I must first have…'
The line had gone dead. Tweed replaced the receiver with care. He told Newman and Cardon what had been said. Newman tersely told him what he had learned from the Wintertons. Tweed sighed, sat down on the couch next to Cardon.
`They have been very clever this time. And it's obvious she is in their filthy hands. I have no option.'
He stood up, went back to the phone, dialled the Park Crescent number he knew so well. Monica answered, sounded so pleased to hear his voice.
`Is Howard still in the building – or has he upped and offed to his club?'
'No, he's still here. He's been working all hours since you left London…'
Put him on the phone to me immediately, please.' `Can't I help-'
`I said put Howard on the phone immediately. This is an emergency.'
`I'll transfer you right away…'
Monica sounded hurt at his abrupt order. But in less than thirty seconds Howard came on the line. His normal pompous manner was absent as he asked the question.
`What emergency? Where are you?'
`Hamburg. Four Seasons Hotel. Don't phone me. As of now I am resigning my position. It is to take effect at once. I will send written confirmation by courier.'
`You sound tense,' Howard commented. 'This action is really necessary?'
`It is. Don't try to argue me out of it. I have resigned. As of now. I am retiring. Immediately.'
`This is an emergency situation?'
`It is. I'm offering no explanation. Just do it.'
`I accept your resignation. I will be here all night so as to attend to the formalities. I regret this more than I can convey.'
`Thank you…'
Tweed put down the phone and his forehead was beaded with perspiration. He sat down again on the couch next to Cardon. He used a handkerchief to mop his forehead. Newman came and sat on the other side of him. Tweed looked at him and ran a hand over his face.
`It is the only thing which may save Paula's life for a few days.' He lowered his voice. 'Go to that public phone box you use. Call Kuhlmann – drag him out of bed if necessary, although my bet is he's still at Berliner Tor. Tell him what's happened. Give him the name of that TV outfit. Above all, tell him the kidnapping must be kept secret.'
`I'm on my way,' was all Newman said.
42
Sprawled out on the leather seat, Paula was being rocked from side to side as the van moved over rough ground. They had obviously turned off a made-up road a moment ago. She felt sick, had a thumping headache, but the tape over her mouth had come loose and been removed.
As the van slowed down Starmberg stood up from his flap seat. Unfastening the strap pinioning her right hand, he clamped a steel handcuff over her wrist. He released the strap holding her other hand, forced her to sit up, and clamped the twin handcuff over her wrist. Her arms were now held firmly behind her back.
`You'll end up with terrible punishment for this,' she snapped.
`If you don't shut your bloody mouth I'll shut it for you.'
He released the straps binding her ankles one by one and closed a second pair of handcuffs over the ankles. The van had stopped. Outside there was an eerie silence which jangled her already taut nerves.
Starmberg moved behind her and suddenly inserted a tight gag of twisted cloth over her mouth. She sensed the physical strength in the brute and felt completely helpless.
`You've arrived at your new home,' he said sarcastically. 'There's a very nice man waiting to greet you.'
The driver, who had left his cab, opened the doors at the rear but she couldn't see him clearly. It was a pitch black night and bitterly cold. Siberian air flowed into the van.
`Don't struggle or I'll knock your teeth out,' Starmberg informed her.
He hauled Paula over his shoulder like the proverbial sack of potatoes, stooped to clear the roof of the van, walked to the rear and stepped down into the night. Immediately a raw wind blew sand particles into her eyes. She was carted, head down, across scrubland and inside a house.
Her eyes saw only a scruffy wood-block floor passing below her, a floor with several blocks loose and which hadn't seen a smear of polish for ages. Starmberg, one hand holding her roughly round the neck, used the other to open a door. She blinked as bright fluorescent light hit her.
Starmberg descended a flight of wood-plank steps in the basement area. Against one wall was a long leather seat. He dumped her without care on the seat, stretched her out. He began talking to someone she couldn't see as he removed the handcuffs from her hands and replaced them with leather thongs and then performed the same action with her ankles. Remembering something Butler had said during the tough training course, she compelled herself to relax as the thongs were applied. The gag was removed.
`Well, Dr Hyde,' Starmberg stated in his guttural English, 'this is your new patient, Miss Grey. You will be operating on her.'
`I have the most precise instructions,' an oily voice replied. 'It is only a question of timing.'
`You will be told when. It will be within three days. I leave her in your tender hands…'
Sounds of heavy feet tramping back up the plank stairs, a door opening, slamming shut. At the last sound Paula's morale sank. And that macabre sentence. You will be operating on her.
`Now, my dear Miss Grey, are you comfortable?' the oily voice enquired and the speaker came into view, staring down at her.
Clean shaven, he wore rimless glasses, had a high forehead and thinning brown hair. Smiling down at her, he exposed a perfect set of large teeth. The smile was as phoney as a con-man's but she thought she detected in the smile a streak of sadism.
`What the blazes do you mean by asking if I'm comfortable?' she burst out. 'And do you know the penalty for kidnapping? The crime took place in Germany so you'll be tried there. And while we're on the subject, where am I?'
`Oh, dear me…' The hideous smile became pronounced, reminding Paula of a shark's open mouth. 'You must calm yourself,' Hyde rebuked her. 'If you become hysterical I will have to give you something to put you to sleep. Lie still, I have to complete my examination of your condition.'
He leaned further over her and she saw he was a large man, heavily built and with a paunch. He wore a white jacket like those used by surgeons. His fingers were long, slim and sensitive, like talons. They pulled her jacket off her right shoulder and paused.
`You will be supplied with good food and plenty of liquid. It is essential you do drink a lot of liquid. One hand will be freed at meal-times. Are you left- or right- handed?'
`Right-handed,' Paula said without thinking.
`Wrong shoulder.'
Hyde's fingers pulled her jacket back into place, turned their probing attention to her left shoulder. Removing her jacket, he pulled her blouse free, slid the shoulder strap of her slip down her left arm. His fingers felt, prodded her left shoulder, grasped its bareness, squeezed it.
Paula stopped herself shuddering with revulsion under his searching touch. Then it flashed into her mind that Irene Andover's left arm had been severed close to the shoulder. She fought back a feeling of faintness. You loathsome pervert, she said to herself. She made herself speak in a controlled tone.
`If you spare me it will be taken into account at your trial.'
`You stupid bitch!'
As he spat out the venomous words his fingers dug savagely into her flesh. She gritted her teeth to stop screaming with the pain. The smile had gone. He stood up and used one finger to push his rimless glasses higher up his nose, which was slightly hooked. He disappeared out of view for a few moments. Then she felt a hand grasp her
