Amberg…'
Amberg's estranged wife lived in a large old grey villa perched high up above the city. As they'd climbed higher and higher a panoramic view of Lake Zurich and the city had appeared below. The three-storey villa stood back from the road behind tall railings rising up from a low stone wall. A short distance behind their taxi a black Mercedes slowed, parked by the kerb.
Behind the wheel, Butler, who had hired the car, looked at Nield seated alongside him. He checked his rear- view mirror again.
'No sign of a tail, Pete. So I suppose we just wait.'
'Someone in the BMW parked in front of the villa. A girl, I think. Tweed and Co. are approaching her…'
After paying off the cab driver, Tweed, with Paula and Newman, was approaching the wrought-iron gates when Tweed stared at the BMW. He paused, spoke half under his breath.
'I don't believe it. I think a word with her would be a good idea before we go barging in.'
The girl sitting in the front passenger seat by herself wore a pale blue woollen helmet but it didn't conceal the wave of golden hair failing to her shoulders. She wore sun-glasses and turned as Tweed bent down to speak to her. Paula was stunned. It was Jennie Blade, last seen in Padstow.
'You're a long way from Cornwall,' Tweed greeted her genially. 'You flew to Zurich?'
'Bloody hell, no. Look, it's freezing out there. Bob, come and sit beside me. Tweed, you and Paula climb in the back. It's warm as toast in here. Then we can talk.'
She flashed Newman a warm smile as he settled in the front passenger seat. She had the heaters going full blast and the warmth hit them. Jennie twisted round to talk to Tweed.
'We sailed here in the flaming Mayflower. Across the North Sea, up the Rhine and berthed at Basle. Then by train to here. I was thrown all over the place during the sea crossing. His lordship is mad keen on sailing.'
'His lordship? Gaunt, you mean?' Tweed queried. 'Where is he now?'
'At this moment? He's inside that villa. Enjoying himself.' She gazed fixedly at Tweed. 'Could you and I meet for a drink this evening? I'll tell you the story of my life.' She grinned wickedly. 'You'll find it a rather lurid tale.'
'Certainly,' Tweed agreed promptly. 'Six o'clock at the Hummer Bar in the Gotthard? You'll find the main entrance in Bahnhofstrasse a stone's throw from the Bahnhofplatz.'
'I'll look forward to that.'
'What did you mean when you said Gaunt was enjoying himself inside that villa?'
'Oh, didn't you know? Eve Amberg is one of his girl friends.'
18
Tweed hauled on the long chain bell-pull inside the massive porch of the villa. Turning round, he waved to Jennie Blade, who waved back. Newman stared at the door.
'Is this a good time to call?' Paula asked. What on earth are Gaunt and Jennie of all people doing in Zurich?'
'That's what I hope to find out…
He broke off as the massive door was unlocked, unchained and swung inward by a maidservant in uniform. A Swiss girl, Paula thought when she heard her speak in English.
'Is Madame expecting you?' She studied the card Tweed had given her. 'You are an insurance salesman?'
'Hardly. I'm Chief Claims Investigator. Just take the card to your mistress and tell her we've travelled here all the way from Cornwall to see her.'
'I suppose she has to get dressed quickly,' Paula said in a low voice.
'Not necessarily,' Tweed replied.
In less than a minute the door was opened again, the maid informed them that Madame would see them now. The hall was very large and something about the atmosphere repelled Paula. The old woodblock floor was highly polished and a large over-ornate grandfather clock against one wall ticked ponderously. Leading them to the rear of the hall, the maid opened a door, stood aside. Tweed, sensing Paula's reluctance, marched straight into a vast living room with windows overlooking a neglected back garden which was a tangle of undergrowth and stunted evergreens.
'Mr Tweed? I believe you have met Mr Gaunt. I don't know about your friends…
'They all know me. Naturally,' boomed Gaunt. 'We've had drinks together in the local pub. Right, Tweed? You following me around? Want to know what I'm up to, I expect. Eh? Let me introduce you all. This is Madame Eve Amberg, wife of the late lamented Julius Amberg.'
'Not all that lamented, Mr Tweed. Do sit down, all of you. Gregory is just leaving.'
Eve Amberg was an attractive woman in her mid-thirties. She had long titian hair and looked as though she had just returned from an expensive hairdresser. She had greenish eyes, strong features, a full mouth and a shapely chin. Her complexion had the marble-like glow Paula knew came from careful and lengthy make-up. She wore a bolero jacket over a green dress which emphasized her shapely figure. Her long legs were crossed elegantly. She had an aura of a strong personality and her voice was soft and appealing.
She patted the empty seat beside her on a couch inviting Tweed to sit next to her. The vacant cushion showed no sign of recent occupation. Gaunt was standing under an elaborate chandelier, clad in a houndstooth jacket and cavalry twill trousers with a blue silk cravat under his jaw. Very much the country gent, Paula thought.
'Eve, I really must go. I regret the reason for coming to see you.' He looked at Tweed before leaving. 'I now leave you to the tender mercies of Eve. Survive her charms if you can…'
Newman, seated next to Paula on another large couch, detected a note of irony in the remark. Eve chuckled good-humouredly, called out to him as he reached the door.
'You really are a horrible man, Gregory – leaving my new guests with the impression that I'm a monster.'
'But she is, she is,' Gaunt shot over his shoulder and closed the door behind him.
'I gather, Mrs Amberg, that you have heard the tragic news about your husband,' Tweed began. 'I was actually at Tresillian Manor shortly after the massacre had taken place.'
'Don't think I am a monster, Mr Tweed.' Eve stretched out a bare arm below her short-sleeved dress along the couch behind him. 'Julius and I had parted company for good before he left for England. But the manner in which he died has shocked me. I can tell you that – the Squire has a tendency to despise women who can't stand up to a shock.'
'You are thinking of going back to England?' Tweed asked.
'Not bloody likely.' She reached for a cigarette out of a pearl-encrusted box, lit it with a gold lighter. 'Not yet. During the final blazing row Julius let slip he was expecting to make a fortune within days. Think I'm mercenary if you like, but I'm entitled to something after enduring his way of life for two years.'
'His way of life?' Tweed probed.
'Some bankers have their girl friends in other cities – are discreet. Not Julius. He visited a high-class call-girl on his doorstep. She has an apartment in Rennweg – in the middle of Zurich, for God's sake.'
'You know her name?'
'Yes. I had him followed by a detective. Helen Frey is her name. Rennweg 590. An apartment on the first floor. A bit too close for comfort. My comfort.' Her expression clouded over. 'I still think it's beastly the way he died. Damned weird, too.'
'Have you any idea where this fortune he spoke of was coming from?'
'No real idea at all. He speculated successfully on a large scale buying and selling foreign currencies. It might be that – although I gathered it was some new and unique deal. God knows how the bank will fare under the guidance of Walter.'
'He wasn't as competent as Julius?' Tweed ventured.
'I can never make him out. He's devious, gives the impression he's just chairman to preside over meetings. Sometimes I wonder about Walter.' Her arm touched Tweed's neck, her voice very soft. 'Did Julius suffer before he
