spotting their weak points, for moulding them in your hands like putty. What sort of man is Tweed? Could you lure him so you had him in the palm of your hand?'
'He's an enigma.'
'Come. You can do better than that. You told me you had dinner with him one evening at the Priory Hotel.
Seeing someone at dinner is a good time to tell what they are really like.'
Eve frowned, forcing herself not to look at the fat envelope which was the only object on Brazil's desk. She was, as usual, trying to work out what reply would make her boss happy.
Brazil waited, appeared to read her mind.
'I don't want what you think I would like to hear. I want an honest assessment. You are supposed to be shrewd where men are concerned.'
'He's the most difficult man to analyse I ever met. He has changes of mood. Sometimes he's quite amiable, even jokey. At other times you can't tell from his expression what he's really thinking,' she said truthfully.
'He's insignificant?' Brazil suggested.
'No, far from it. I'd say he is cautious, likes to be sure of his ground before he moves. No woman could trap him. If they appeared to be doing so they'd get a nasty surprise. He likes women, but he's very discriminating in those he mixes with.'
'Go on. This is better. Much better.'
'Take Paula Grey. She's someone I'd say he trusts.'
'All right. What sort of woman is Paula Grey?'
'Attractive.' Eve said reluctantly. 'She's shrewd, probably very loyal to Tweed. I think they have a very special relationship built on mutual respect. Sometimes I thought she was in love with him.'
'And he with her?'
'If he is, he never shows it. At least I couldn't detect it.'
'You think they have ever been intimate together?'
'I'm sure they haven't. It's a very permanent relationship, but without that, I'm certain. A woman can tell.'
'Getting back to Tweed, if he was up against an enemy he regarded as very dangerous, what would be his reaction? I get a picture so far of a very intelligent, thoughtful man, very self-controlled and quiet. What would be his reaction?' he repeated.
'He'd be ruthless. He'd take decisions very quickly and move like lightning.'
'Interesting. You've done well. Now you can take the envelope on my desk you've had trouble keeping your eyes off. It's your salary plus a large bonus.'
'Thank you.'
The envelope disappeared inside her shoulder bag like a conjuring trick. She was dying to open it, had felt crisp banknotes inside it, but she knew opening it in front of Brazil would be a mistake. It would indicate greed.
She had no idea that when Brazil had originally hired her he had detected greed as the main motive in her makeup. Now she had the envelope she decided to ask the question which had been bothering her.
'After I'd got to know the chairman of the Zurcher Kredit bank I went to his house with a man you told me to meet at the station under the clock. You told me to introduce him as Mr Danziger Brown, the man I'd persuaded the chairman had an idea as to how the bank could make a huge profit. I introduced this man to the chairman after dark and went away, as instructed. Later, I read in the papers the chairman had been murdered.'
'So?'
'Was I introducing the chairman to the man who killed him?'
'Describe Mr Danziger Brown.'
'I couldn't make out whether he was tall or of medium height. He seemed very fat. The buttons of his overcoat were strained. He stooped, as though he was round shouldered. I couldn't see the colour of his hair – he was wearing a black beret. I couldn't see his face. It was a cold night and he had a muffler across most of his face.'
'He was a financial consultant. Whoever killed the chairman must have gained entry after he had gone.'
'The same thing happened when I made friends, on your instructions, with that banker in Geneva. And he was murdered the same night I took another man to see him.'
'A coincidence.' Brazil said blandly.
'I see.' She hesitated. 'Have you heard of someone called The Motorman?'
'Who?'
'The Motorman.'
'No. Sounds like a racing driver.'
Brazil was lying, but nothing in his expression gave away the fact. In this respect only he was like Tweed.
When Eve had left the room Brazil stroked Igor, began talking quietly to the dog.
'Tweed sounds very promising. If only I can persuade him we would make an unbeatable partnership…'
22
In the middle of the night in her suite at the Hotel des Bergues Paula and Philip had an argument and for a while neither would give way.
'I say we ought to take an early morning train to Berne.' said Paula.
'Don't agree with the method of transport.' Philip rapped back. 'We are going to hire a car and drive there.'
'The roads will be hell.' Paula said vehemently.
'I'll drive. You're not questioning my ability to do that, are you?'
'Of course not! Don't be so touchy. A train will get us there. Swiss trains always do…'
'Then later we have to get to Zurich, in case you've forgotten.'
'I have not forgotten!' Paula began to pace up and down the living room, like Tweed. 'But you have obviously forgotten there are express trains from Berne to Zurich.'
'I am aware of that…'
'Then why are you being so stubborn?'
'Not stubborn. Just looking ahead.' Philip shot back at her. 'We can drive from Berne to Zurich and get there by the time Tweed suggested.'
'I think a train will be safer…'
'No, it won't. If Craig's thugs have found out we're staying here they can board the same train we do.'
'How on earth could they find out we are here?' she demanded. She paused. 'Or maybe they could?'
'Yes, by impersonating detectives, asking to look at the hotel register downstairs. You believe Craig wouldn't have thought of that, provided some of his men with forged police credentials ages ago?'
Paula stood still, folded her arms. Philip poured more coffee for both of them.
'Thanks.' said Paula automatically. 'Philip, I think you are right. We'll hire a car. I wonder what on earth Ariane means? Tweed seemed to know.'
At Park Crescent the French courier had arrived with the photographs from French Guiana. Tweed asked him to wait downstairs and, taking out a batch of large glossy prints from the envelope, spread them out on his desk. Marler, Newman, and Monica came to stand behind him.
'They don't tell me anything.' Tweed said after examining them under a magnifying glass. He handed the glass to Newman, who studied the photos quickly.
'Just a jumble of nothing. Let's hope Grogarty is cleverer than us.'
'Monica, put these in an envelope addressed to the Professor, go down to the courier, who I found when I saw him speaks English. Get Butler or Nield to drive the courier to Grogarty in Harley Street, tell the courier to wait if Grogarty wants to send them back quickly.'
