'I have independent sources to check that statement. Are you under the impression you are running Murder Inc.? I experienced this sort of thing in the States, which is why I left that violent country. You are supposed to frighten people, to intimidate them, not kill them.' Brazil roared.
'They started shooting first.' Craig lied again.
'Who is 'they'?' Brazil demanded.
'Tweed's men, I presume…'
'You presume! Now you're lying. I know something of Tweed, met him once briefly. He's not the sort of man to operate in that way…'
'You can't be sure of that….'
'Don't you dare interrupt me! I am sure of that. And soon I have to meet Tweed, if he will ever agree to do that after this horror.. .'
Brazil tightened his hold on the leash. The hound had started to move towards Craig, who backed away.
'And another thing.' Brazil raved on. 'Up to now, with the aid of certain powerful Swiss banker friends, I have neutralized Arthur Beck.' He stood quite still, hands on his hips. 'In case your memory has gone Beck is the Chief of Federal Police, his headquarters a mere stone's throw from where I'm standing. If he can find the smallest link between what happened in Geneva and myself he'll be on my back – just when the project I am directing is about to be launched.'
'If I knew what the project was…' Craig began unwisely.
'You don't – and you won't. Not until zero hour. I would greatly appreciate it if you would get out of my sight, get out of this room. I'll instruct you in the morning. Go! For God's sake…'
Arriving at the villa, Eve had been admitted by Jose, and had run up the curving staircase to Brazil's office with Jose rushing up behind her. Even through the heavy door to his office she heard Brazil's voice and guessed he was roaring at Craig.
This I must see, she thought. She detested Craig, who ignored her most of the time. Her hand was on the doorknob when Jose grasped her from behind.
'You can't go in there…'
'Yes, I can. I have information…'
'You must wait.'
She detested the smooth-skinned Jose and struggled to get free. She raised her foot and scraped it down his shin. She heard him grunt but he wouldn't let go.
'Let me go, you Colombian turd…'
'I am from French Guiana,' Jose said calmly.
He held on, pinioned her arms to her side. She hadn't realized he was so strong. She swore at him but he continued holding her in his grip and didn't bother to answer the insult. Then the door opened. Craig, his face flushed, closed the door behind him. He stared at her.
'Listening at keyholes again?'
'Sounds as though you had a proper thrashing,' she retorted with a wolfish smile.
Craig walked off. Jose released her. She took off her coat and scarf, opened the door and went inside, followed by Jose, who took his normal place behind his corner desk.
'Didn't expect you so quickly,' Brazil commented, now quite calm.
'I'm a good driver,' she said as he sat down behind his large desk. 'Did he…' She gestured towards Jose without looking at him. 'Did he remember to give you the names of key members of Tweed's team I found out? Bob Newman, Paula Grey – and possibly William Franklin?'
'Jose always remembers. He did give me the names.'
'I have another one to add to the list. Philip Cardon.'
20
In Paula's suite at the Hotel des Bergues the three of them had just finished an excellent dinner brought in by waiters wheeling two tables which they put together.
'That sole was wonderful.' Paula said. 'I feel a new woman.'
'The food was superb.' said Archie. 'Thank you very much.'
He produced the half-smoked cigarette from his pocket and tucked it into the corner of his mouth. Philip had wondered whether he would eat his meal with the stub still in place.
'Let's sit on that long couch to drink our coffee.' Paula suggested.
She waited until they were settled, then produced the copy of the photograph of Marchat from her shoulder bag. She handed it to Archie.
'I don't suppose you've any idea who this is?'
Archie studied the photo, held it under a lamp on the coffee table. He stared at it for almost a minute. He doesn't know, Paula thought. Nice try. Archie handed back the picture to her.
'Is he important?' he asked.
'He could be very important.'
'I see.'
Archie picked up his cup, sipped coffee with his cigarette still in his mouth without spilling a drop. He put the cup down carefully. Paula had already observed all Archie's movements were deliberate. He used a napkin to dab at his mouth.
'Something wrong?' asked Philip.
'Is the man in the picture in danger?' Archie asked.
'He could be in great danger. He was supposed to have been burned to death in the fire at Sterndale Manor in Dorset – as were General Sterndale and his son, Richard. Also the only remaining relative who would have been there but was indisposed.'
'I see.' Archie said again.
'No hurry.' Paula assured him. 'Take your time. I mean that.'
'Anton Marchat.' Archie said suddenly. 'A Swiss. He lives with his wife in the Valais.'
Paula was briefly stunned. She had not expected a positive reply.
'The valley?' she repeated. 'Which valley?'
'I meant the canton of the Valais. Well to the east of where we are sitting.'
'How stupid of me.' Paula said, annoyed at herself. 'I do know French but we've been speaking English. He disappeared from England. We know he flew to Geneva, but that was all.'
'Rugged country, the Valais.' Archie ruminated. 'The people are hardy. They have to be to live there - especially now in winter. It will be at its worst.'
'Will he have gone back there, do you think?' Paula pressed.
'Was he frightened?'
'I'd say he was scared stiff.' Philip told him. 'An assassin tried to murder him but got the wrong man.'
'Then if he flew to Geneva…' Archie paused, working it out. He sat up straighter, the dead cigarette wobbled. 'If he flew to Geneva.' Archie repeated, 'it's more than likely he boarded one of the international expresses at Cornavin Station. Then he'd get off in the Valais and go home and stay there.'
'You wouldn't know his address?' Philip asked casually.
'Is someone going to visit him, to protect him?'
'I am.' said Philip.
'We are.' said Paula.
'I know what happened outside Les Armures.' Archie said slowly. 'One of the waiters crouched behind a table where he could see. He said there was just one woman and one man. Imagine those two finishing off that gang of murderous thugs.'
He glanced first at Paula, then he glanced at Philip.
'You had a pretty grim time when that motorcycle gang attacked.'
'Let's say we had a lively evening.' Philip replied cautiously.
