'Well, in that case…''

He broke off as Philip walked into the room clad in a heavy coat with a fur collar which he immediately took off. He looked at Tweed.

'I left my case packed for the Arctic downstairs.'

'Book Philip on that next flight to Geneva, Monica,' Tweed said with an air of crisp decision. 'Give him all the data Archie provided. Including the details about that underground arms dealer. Philip, Paula may be running into more trouble than one person can handle. The fact that she's a woman has nothing to do with it…'

17

Leopold Brazil stood at the window of his spacious office in the villa in Berne. He was protected from view by thick net curtains. Behind him stood Carson Craig, clad in a grey suit which had cost him a thousand pounds.

Time I left for Belp Airport, sir.' Craig reminded his chief. 'I've got your double standing by to board the jet with me. We should land at Cointrin, Geneva, in no time.'

'You said my double, Craig.' Brazil turned round and stared at him. 'Some bosses would resent the idea that they had someone who looked exactly like him.'

'I'm sorry.' Craig's brutal face crinkled into what he hoped was an apologetic expression. 'He doesn't look exactly like you.'

Brazil was amused. He didn't give a damn how closely the so-called double resembled himself, but he liked confusing his minion, who lacked a sense of humour.

'I wouldn't worry too much about it, Craig. But now I mean what I say. Go easy in Geneva.'

'We have reason to believe that trouble is on its way from London,' Craig said stubbornly. 'Our watcher at Heathrow has reported that one of Tweed's lackeys – the woman, Paula Grey – boarded a flight for Geneva. He had a good description of her from The Recorder. I'm going to wipe up Tweed's troublemakers before they can start anything.'

'Like you did at Sterndale Manor?' Brazil's tone had sharpened. 'Nobody told you to kill everybody in that house. My order was to raid the safe, make it look like a robbery.'

'We couldn't get into the house.' Craig persisted. 'I used my initiative.'

'I said go easy in Geneva. That is all.'

Craig left the room and joined his henchman, Gustav, who was waiting in an anteroom. Gustav was a fat, mean-looking man with a thin, cruel mouth.

'He's on again about us going easy,' Craig growled as they descended a wide curving marble staircase to the ground floor. 'You've got your kit?' he asked, glancing at the canvas bag Gustav was carrying.

'Everything, boss. Black leather jacket and trousers and helmet. The machines are waiting for us in Geneva with the rest of the team.'

'Good. We'll give them hell. They're getting just too close to the laboratory.'

'Where's that?'

'Shut your face.' snarled Craig.

The call to Tweed from Arthur Beck in the Federal Police building came an hour later.

Tweed, I think you should know the jet left Belp with three men a few minutes ago. My man reported Carson Craig was definitely one of the passengers. Another looked superficially like Brazil, but wasn't.'

'How could he tell?' Tweed asked.

'Body language. He observes how people move.'

'And where was this jet flying to?'

'Geneva. It should arrive there in no time. Trouble, savage trouble would be my guess – as Craig is with them. That's all for now …'

At Park Crescent Tweed put down the phone, looked at Newman and Marler with a grim expression. He told them what Beck had said.

'It looks as though Paula could be walking into an inferno.' he said bleakly.

'Then it's a good job you sent Philip.' Newman told him. 'And don't look so worried. Philip will have left his emotional baggage on his doorstep. And he likes Paula.'

'If I'd known earlier I'd have sent both of you to back up Philip. But I wanted to discuss my interview with Professor Grogarty. What do you both think is the significance of what he told me, in his mixed way?'

'I think.' Marler said, 'if it can be arranged safely you should now meet Leopold Brazil as soon as possible. I repeat, if it can be arranged so your safety is guaranteed. By us.'

'What do you suggest?'

'That at least four of us, disguised, are in the vicinity of the meeting place, which must not be a hole in the wall. By all of us I mean Bob, myself, with Butler and Nield.'

'Pete Nield is expected back from Dorset any moment.' Tweed told him. 'I overlooked one thing – I should have put a tail on Eve Warner.'

'Not to worry.' Newman replied cheerfully. 'I knew you were up to your neck so last night I called on Philip briefly in his suite at the Priory and asked him for Eve's address. She lives in a flat near mine. Quite posh. That's why Marler arrived late.'

'Get to the point, Bob.'

'Marler followed her when she left her flat after Philip had gone. Followed her to Heathrow where she boarded a flight. Bound for Geneva.'

Thank Heaven I brought arctic clothing, Paula thought.

The aircraft was flying lower over Switzerland. It was dark but the sky was star-studded and the moon shone brightly. They were passing over the Jura Mountains, which were snow-bound, and a small lake was a gleam of solid ice.

As some flights did, the plane flew east, then south, then west over Lake Geneva. It landed smoothly at the airport and the American beside her she had chatted with got up. She was in Business Class and quickly put on the fur-lined coat a stewardess brought her from where it had hung during the flight.

'Say, I can remember this airport when it was pretty small.' said the American who had come up next to her as they walked along an endless corridor. 'Now it's too goddamn big – and gettin' bigger all the time.'

'I can remember it in those days too.' Paula replied. 'It was cosy and no distance at all to walk.'

'You're on your own, lady. Care to join me for dinner this evening? No strings attached. I mean that.'

'That's very kind of you but I do have a date for this evening.'

'Enjoy your date. Nice to have met you…'

He walked more quickly and Paula heaved a sigh of relief. The American was a nice man, it was pleasant to realize she was still attractive, but she had no time to waste.

Leaving Cointrin, she took a taxi to the Hotel des Bergues, booked a room, and tipped the porter when he'd carried her heavy bag up. The spacious room overlooked the River Rhone and a blaze of neon lights on the far side advertising this and that. The lights were reflected in the water as wavy distortions. She dialled Park Crescent and Monica answered.

Paula. I'm at the Hotel des Bergues, room number

'Got it.' said Monica.

Paula put down the phone, unpacked her bag swiftly, went back down into the lobby wearing her fur coat again.

'Be careful, miss.' the commissionaire warned as she was about to step into the street. 'It's like a skating rink out there…'

She paused outside, tested the grip of her fur-lined boots, found it was good. She was wearing a pair of boots with special soles which had tiny spikes. After being inside the warm hotel for a few minutes the cold air hit her and she adjusted the coat's hood over her head.

On the plane she had checked the address of the dealer in arms and found she was familiar with the street which ran parallel to the Rhone across the water. She started walking across the footbridge, which zigzagged over the river. A raw wind froze her exposed cheeks, a wind blowing all the way from the distant Rhone glacier down the

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