'Beck speaking…'
'More bad trouble I'm afraid, Arthur. Aboard the express from Zurich…'
Tersely he told Beck what had happened, that the bodies were inside the lavatory of the fourth coach from the rear, that the express was scheduled to wait twenty minutes before proceeding north into Germany.
'Hold on,' Beck interjected.
He returned to the phone three minutes later. His tone was crisp, calm.
'Patrol cars and an ambulance are already on the way to the Bahnhof. I phoned the station superintendent. That express won't leave until they've done their job. Which hotel are you staying at?'
'Drei Konige. I'm speaking from the station…'
'Go straight to your hotel. Do not leave it under any circumstances until I get there, which may not be for some time. The killers have tracked you. Once again. Drastic action must be taken. Stay in your hotel…'
Tweed arrived at the Drei Konige with Paula and Newman. As planned, Butler, Nield and Cardon would come later one by one, as though they didn't know each other. The concierge greeted Tweed warmly.
'So good to have you back with us, Mr Tweed,' he said in his perfect English. 'We have three nice rooms for you, all overlooking the Rhine…'
As Tweed registered, a man wearing a Swiss business suit with half-moon glasses perched on his nose sat in the large lounge area adjoining reception. He was reading a local newspaper, his eyes hooded with disbelief as he saw Tweed enter. His grey hair was shaggy and he raised the paper a little higher to conceal his presence. Norton was recovering from the shock of seeing Tweed still alive.
Paula went along to Tweed's room. She had showered and changed into her blue suit in fifteen minutes. Tweed opened the door a few inches, then swung it open wide and ushered her inside with a sweeping gesture. He immediately relocked the door. Paula looked round the double room.
'What a super room. Mine's like this. And it has a magnificent view of the Rhine.'
She ran to the window. It was a brilliantly sunny day and very cold. The hotel was perched on the very edge of the Rhine which was about a hundred yards wide even as high upriver as Basle. On the far bank a number of ancient houses with steep pointed roofs lined the river.
'Look,' she called out, 'a barge train.'
Tweed joined her and they watched a stubby tug hauling downriver a string of huge barges. They were container craft and the German flag flew from each stern.
'I've got the same view,' she enthused. 'Oh, dear, I suppose I shouldn't feel so buoyant after the horror on the express. That poor conductor…'
'He was dead before we knew anything was happening.' Tweed put his arm round her. 'So we couldn't have saved him. Now we go after the people responsible for the atrocity. But first, interested in lunch?'
'Ravenous.'
To reach the lift they moved along a railed walk which surrounded a well looking down on to the floor below. Not a very high rail, Paula observed. Newman arrived from his room as they entered the lift and squeezed inside with them; Stepping out into the lobby the first person they saw was Eve Amberg.
'It's a small world, to coin a cliche,' Eve greeted them. 'My, it's cold outside.'
'I love it,' Newman said cheerfully. 'I can work and think better in this weather.'
'Bully for you.' Eve turned her attention to Tweed after nodding to Paula. 'I'm just going in to lunch.' She smiled at him warmly.
'By yourself?' Tweed enquired.
'As it happens, yes.'
'Why not join me for lunch, then?'
'How nice of you.' She glanced at Paula and Newman. 'But you have your friends.'
'Oh, that's all right,' Paula said quickly. 'Bob and I have something to work out. Do it better on our own.'
Eve was again looking as smart as paint, reminding Paula of their first meeting, as opposed to when she had caught Eve leaving the villa on a shopping trip. She wore a soft green tailored jacket, a mini skirt and a cream blouse with a high neckline. Must have cost a bomb, that outfit, Paula estimated.
As they followed Tweed and Eve towards the dining room Paula looked round the large lounge area. Out of the corner of her eye she'd seen someone sitting there when they arrived. The grey-haired man had gone.
They entered the dining room – oblong with windows to their right giving a view across a canopied platform extending over the Rhine. Tweed pointed towards it as a waiter showed them to a window table.
'That's what they call the Ry-Deck. In summer you eat out there and it's like being aboard an ocean liner.'
'I know,' Eve agreed. 'Julius brought me here when he was visiting Basle.' She sat down. 'What a coincidence -the two of us arriving at the same time at the same hotel.'
'Not really, if you are visiting Basle. This is the most prestigious hotel, as I'm sure you know. Goes back ages and the food and service are excellent.'
Like the entrance hall and the lounge area, the walls were covered with old panelling and the comfortable atmosphere suggested somewhere which had existed for ever.
'There are buildings just along here by the river which have amazing dates of origin,' Tweed remarked as he studied the menu. 'Incidentally, why are you in Basle, if I may ask?'
'You may,' she teased him, squeezing his hand. 'I came to have a serious talk with Walter, to pin him down – about money, of course. My money. I phoned the bank and the pest has flown to France.'
'Really?' Tweed concealed his anxiety. 'Any idea where in France?'
'Oh, I can tell you exactly. Walter owns a place up in the Vosges mountains. Very remote. The Chateau Noir. Easiest way to get there is to take the train to Colmar, a picturesque town only half an hour from Basle Bahnhof. Then you hire a car to drive you up into the mountains. I'm going to catch him up if I have to follow him all over Europe.'
'Would you like a drink? Wine? White, then how about Sancerre?'
'Love it.'
'Would you excuse me for a few minutes?' Tweed asked when the wine had arrived. 'I have to phone London -should have done it before I came down to lunch…'
He left Eve sipping her wine appreciatively. Newman and Paula sat together at a table some distance away.
Seated alone at a table which gave a view of the whole room was Harry Butler. At two other tables, also by themselves, sat Pete Nield and Philip Cardon.
In his room Tweed checked the number of the Zurcher Kredit in the directory, dialled the number. A woman with a severe voice answered his call.
'Mr Amberg is away at the moment. No, I have no idea when he will return.'
'I am a client,' Tweed persisted. 'Mr Amberg was going to collect two items which belong to me from the bank vault. Do you know if he did visit the vault…'
'I really have no idea. If you will leave your name…'
Tweed put down the phone, waited a moment, dialled police headquarters, asked for Beck. He explained what he wanted. Beck said he'd contact the Zurcher Kredit and call him back. Five minutes later the phone rang and Beck was on the line again.
'I put pressure on the old dragon who took my call, told her I was investigating three murders which took place on Swiss soil. Amberg did collect something from the vault before he left…'
'For his chateau up in the Vosges behind Colmar,' Tweed interjected.
'Don't go into France,' Beck warned. 'I can try to protect you here but France could be even more dangerous. The train incident has been dealt with. I'll need some more statements.'
'You'll get them before we leave.'
'For France? Don't do it, for God's sake. I'm carrying out a sweep through Basle. They obviously know you're here. Take care…'
Tweed was leaving the room when the phone rang again. He locked the door, ran to answer it, sure it would stop just as he reached it.
'Yes?' he said.
There's someone on the phone for you, Mr Tweed,' the operator told him. 'He won't give a name but says it's
