money, she cocked her index finger, beckoned. He began to move towards her.
'Stay where you are!' she screamed at him. 'Are you so stupid? Don't you realize I was beckoning for you to get out your wallet again?'
'It's not enough?'
'Not nearly. You're loaded.'
He sucked in his breath, brought out his wallet again, extracted three more thousand-franc notes, laid them on the table. Five thousand altogether. This was blackmail on a big scale. Eve spoke again.
'Leave them there and get the hell out of here…'
Mopping his sweating brow, Craig hurried back to his own office. He had hardly closed the door when the phone started ringing. He swore foully, sat behind his desk, picked up the phone.
'Craig here. So who is it?' he asked viciously.
'Someone you expected to call you.' a thin reedy voice said in English.
'Do you mind holding on a moment, please, while I secure the door …'
His tone had changed to one of businesslike geniality. He jumped up, ran to the door, locked and bolted it. He should have done that last time before Eve had opened it and eavesdropped on him, the little cow.
'Yes, I'm here.' he said, resuming the conversation.
'This is your private line?'
'Yes, don't worry…'
'I never worry, I double-check.' the reedy voice went on. 'The job is done. Mr Rico Sava is no longer with us.'
'I see.'
'So please make the necessary transfer of funds to my numbered account. I do prefer prompt payment.'
The connection was broken and Craig was sweating again. Something about the reedy voice always disturbed him. He had no idea of the identity of The Motorman and paying him was a headache. Craig had control over a large amount of funds – much of it going to pay his team of motorcyclists. But Jose conducted an audit at regular intervals, checking expenses on the orders of Brazil.
Craig also had no idea of how to contact The Motorman. He knew that he – or a member of his staff -would later in the morning get another call giving a phone number where Mr Brown could be reached. The number was always an answerphone which gave another phone number.
Craig went to a cabinet, poured himself a large Scotch, drank half of it, sat down again behind his desk. He had thought for a long time that Brazil was too soft in the methods he employed. On the quiet, Craig tried to rectify that.
Several months before he had contacted a friend who had buddies in the underworld. He had wanted a really tough assassin. Just in case. Eventually he'd been given the name, The Motorman, and a number where he might reach him. The Motorman had called him back a week later, had told Craig what a complete job on a target would cost. That had been the start of Craig's secret contact with the assassin.
There was an insistent tapping on the door. When he unlocked and unbolted it Jose was standing outside. 'Mr Brazil wishes to see you urgently…'
'Craig, I'm going to meet Mr Tweed later this afternoon at the Hotel Schweizerhof in Zurich. Just in case you wish to get in touch with me. Jose will drive me there. We shall leave shortly so I can call on a friend in Zurich before I meet Tweed.'
'You need protection.' was Craig's instant reaction.
'No. No protection. I trust Tweed. I met him once, briefly, at a dinner in London.'
'You need protection.' Craig repeated. 'I will fix it up immediately…'
He stopped speaking, pulled up abruptly. Brazil had hammered his clenched fist on his desk.
'I said no protection. Are you deaf? You can go now.'
Philip drove into Berne some time after the snow had stopped falling but the city was deep in snow. Paula pointed to a building.
'Look at that. Icicles hanging like a railed fence from the gutters. It's cold and I'm hungry.'
'Well, we're in Kochergasse and there is the Bellevue Palace. We'll park in that underground garage and order an English breakfast.'
'Good. My tummy's rumbling…'
They walked back to the large hotel and entered the lobby. The first person they saw was Archie, sitting at a table close to a window with a tray of coffee on the table.
'I don't believe it.' Paula said, going up to him. 'How could we run into you here?'
'Because.' Archie whispered to them, 'from where I am sitting I can observe Brazil's villa. That old stone place set back from the street.'
'Then we'll have breakfast here.' said Philip. 'Just so long as that's all right with you.'
'Be my guests.' Archie said, his dead cigarette clenched in the corner of his mouth. He summoned a waiter. 'What do you want?'
They ordered and Archie's eyes never left the villa he had pointed to. Paula sat alongside him.
'Activity already.' Archie commented. 'I think that's Brazil's limo pulling up outside with Jose at the wheel. Yes, there's Brazil himself coming out. He looks very smart. Must be going to meet someone important.'
Paula exchanged a glance with Philip but said nothing.
'That's interesting.' Archie went on as the limo pulled away from the villa. 'He's travelling without the thugs Craig always provides him with. He must trust whoever he's off to see totally.'
Again Paula kept her expression poker-faced and this time she didn't look at Philip. Archie continued watching as he spoke.
'I think Brazil is anxious. I caught a glimpse of his expression. He had the look of a man who hopes he is going to succeed in some venture, but fears he will fail.'
'How can you tell all that – when he was across the road?' asked Philip.
'Because I have spent many long hours waiting for Mr Brazil to appear in different parts of the world. I have studied him carefully. A most impressive personality. No wonder he has the ear of presidents and prime ministers all over the world.'
These eggs and bacon are good.' said Paula, concentrating on the most important activity.
'Coffee's good, too.' Philip commented. 'What is it?'
Archie's relaxed figure had become tense. He was leaning forward.
'Ah! Something very interesting is happening now. Very interesting indeed.'
'What is it?' asked Philip, who had his back to the villa.
'Another large car has pulled up in front of the villa. A Volvo. And, if I'm not mistaken, it's being driven by a particularly nasty piece of work. A certain ugly gentleman called Gustav. Craig's henchman.'
'Keep me informed,' said Philip.
He didn't want to twist round in his chair for fear the action would draw attention to them.
'Even more interesting.' Archie continued. 'His Lordship has appeared. None other than the great man himself. Mr Carson Craig, carrying a hold-all which from here looks heavy.'
'He looks like a heavyweight businessman in that suit.' Paula said. 'And I do mean heavyweight. That's odd – it's not at all how Newman described how he was dressed during the fight at Grenville Grange.'
'And here comes the gentle Gustav.' Archie remarked, 'also carrying a heavy bag. Probably weapons.'
'Two more tough-looking types are coming down the steps.' Paula observed. 'And they look as though they mean business. They're getting into the back of the Volvo. Gustav is driving, with Craig next to him. There they go…'
Philip saw the Volvo driving past the hotel in the same direction taken by Brazil's limo. Archie looked thoughtful.
'You know, my informant has told me a little about Craig. He's in charge of security, subject to Brazil's approval. But Craig thinks he knows best how to handle his job and has been known to go his own brutal way, regardless. I am thinking maybe Brazil didn't want an escort for this trip, but Craig is again following his primitive instincts.'
'I don't like this.' said Philip, glancing at Paula. 'I don't like it at all. I think we ought to get moving to our destination now.'
