'A Swiss wife?' queried Paula, her curiosity aroused.
'No, English as a matter of fact. Much younger than her husband was. I think her name is Eve. Walter will have to undertake that unpleasant task. Walter is Chairman – Julius was Chief Executive, the man who really ran the bank and its various branch offices.'
'Is Walter up to it?' asked Newman. To taking over and running the organization?'
'No idea.' Tweed polished off his bacon and eggs, pushed his plate back. 'You know, Paula, among all the things which have happened one stands out, puzzles me.'
'And that is?'
'Why, after shooting down Julius Amberg at Tresillian Manor, did the assassin throw acid all over his face? Not for revenge – we're not dealing with that kind of enemy. So why the acid?'
17
Norton travelled on the same flight to Zurich as Mencken and his large team. But whereas the forty men who were reinforcements occupied economy seats Norton was in the first-class section.
He wore an English suit and spoke with an English accent without a trace of his native American. When he had boarded the plane at London Airport he had chosen the aisle seat next to an elegantly dressed Swiss woman. He was careful that nothing in his manner suggested he was trying to pick her up.
'May I sit here, if you don't mind?' he had enquired courteously. 'There is more leg room and I have business papers I must study before we arrive.'
The seat is vacant,' she replied after glancing briefly at him.
The plane took off and Norton extracted a folder of papers with statistics about computers. He didn't understand any of it but if Mencken peered into First Class it would seem they were a couple travelling together.
Holding his briefcase, he moved quickly when the plane landed at Kloten. By the time Marvin Mencken arrived at the carousel a uniformed porter was waiting for him. He handed him a large envelope.
'I was asked to give this to you, sir. Your baggage will arrive very shortly.'
Remembering his experience at London Airport Mencken made no attempt to question the porter who was walking away. He glanced round at the passengers – not a chance of identifying Norton, assuming he was near the carousel, which he doubted. Mencken opened the envelope. Another sheet with no address and detailed instructions.
Distribute your men among the following four hotels – two groups should occupy the first hotel listed. Golden Bay Tours have booked accommodation. I will call you at your hotel telling you where to pick up special equipment. Hotels – Baur-en-Ville, Eden au Lac, Dolder Grand, BaurauLac.
The sheet was again signed in ink with the flourishing 'N'. Mencken swore to himself at the familiar abrupt commanding tone of the instruction. He began strolling among the passengers, giving each section leader the name of his hotel. As he did so the luggage started moving along the carousel.
'Special equipment' – Mencken knew that referred to guns and explosives.
Newman had decided to accompany Tweed and Paula to meet Walter Amberg at the bank headquarters in Talstrasse, which ran parallel to Bahnhofstrasse. Paula was intrigued and a little nervous. She couldn't get out of her head 'snapshot' pictures of Julius Amberg before the attack – and how he had looked with his face destroyed by acid. Now she was going to meet the identical twin…
Prepared as she was, it came as a shock when a Swiss personal assistant showed them into a large office and a man came forward, hand extended, to greet them.
'Welcome back to Zurich, Tweed. Always good to see you.'
Small and portly, in his fifties, he also wore his black hair without a parting, slicked back from his high forehead. Under thick brows his blue eyes were shrewd, his face clean-shaven and plump. Inwardly, Paula gasped. She was staring at a mirror image of the banker she had met at Tresillian Manor. He even wore the same dark suit with a red silk display handkerchief protruding from his breast pocket.
Tweed introduced Paula, who gathered that Newman had met the banker before. Amberg escorted them to comfortable chairs round a long polished antique boardroom table.
'I'm sure you would all like coffee,' he suggested and gave the order over an intercom. 'I understand you have met Julius down in Cornwall,' he went on, addressing Tweed as he sat down with Paula on his right and Tweed and Newman facing him. 'I haven't heard from him – not unusual since Julius often told me little about his affairs. I trust all went well.'
Tweed took a deep breath. He had not looked forward to this moment.
'I'm afraid I have bad news for you about Julius.'
'He's ill?' Amberg looked surprised. 'He's hardly ever ill. Always says he hasn't the time.'
The news is worse than that, much worse,' Tweed warned.
'You can't mean he's… dead?'
'I mean just that…'
Tweed began to give a terse account of the events which had taken place in Cornwall. Amberg listened, his face blank of emotion, but Paula noticed his lips had tightened as the gruesome tale unfolded. The Swiss listened with his hands steepled, fingertips of each hand touching – a mannerism she had noticed at the dining table in Tresillian Manor.
'It's a grim tragedy,' Tweed concluded, 'and we have no idea who made the fatal attack – or why. I was hoping you might have some inkling.'
'As I told you, Julius handled his own affairs. Which makes it difficult for me to help. I don't – didn't – even know why he was going to Cornwall to meet you.'
'Have you ever heard of a man called Joel Dyson?' Tweed enquired.
'Yes. Not an individual I took to – I'm sorry, is he a friend of yours?'
'He most certainly isn't. Do go on.'
This Dyson arrived recently with a suitcase and asked to see Julius. He was quite aggressive and I was surprised when my brother agreed to see him.' Amberg looked at Newman. 'I understand you once did Julius a great favour which involved this individual.'
'It was nothing,' Newman said, dismissing the incident.
'Dyson seemed frightened on his second visit here,' the banker continued. 'After seeing my brother he asked to be let out by the rear door. Later Julius told me Dyson had handed him a film and a tape recording for safe keeping. I haven't seen Dyson since.'
'Where were the film and the tape stored?' Tweed asked casually.
'In the vault, of course. Then Julius had them transferred to the vault in our Basle branch. I've no idea why.' He clapped a hand to his forehead. 'Oh, God, I had forgotten about Eve. Since this is the first I've heard of this dreadful news she may not know. Eve is his estranged English wife.'
'Estranged?' Tweed enquired delicately.
'Yes. Julius had his final quarrel with Eve just before he flew to London on his way to Cornwall. They had not been getting on well for some time. Foreign wives…' He tilted his head towards Paula. 'Please do excuse my phraseology. Foreign wives,' he continued, 'are often a disaster when they marry Swiss men. Julius told me just before he left for London they had agreed on a separation, that he never wanted to see her again. But someone must tell her…'
Amberg trailed off, looked all at sea. The shock of what happened is beginning to sink in, Paula thought. It was Tweed who intervened.
'If you would like to give me her address, Walter, I will go and see her myself. I was at Tresillian Manor shortly after the tragedy occurred.'
'As her brother-in-law I suppose I should, but…
'Give me her address, if she's still in Switzerland,' Tweed urged.
'She's here in Zurich.' Amberg extracted a white card from a box, wrote down the address and phone number, handed it to Tweed. 'She lives in the villa Julius has – had – in the Dolder area. He was moving into an
