Tweed sat down, told him everything Brazil had said.
'It's strange.' Newman commented, sitting in another chair. 'But I find myself agreeing with some of what he thinks. Only some of it.'
'So did I.' agreed Tweed. 'And he didn't mention one more aspect of the global situation – although I'm sure he had it in mind. If Russia becomes strong again it provides a barrier against the Chinese, who grow more aggressive every day. They have now had successful tests at Lop Nor, launching intercontinental missiles with a range of over five thousand miles. That means those missiles could reach London – or the West Coast of the United States. Brazil has logic on his side, he can think globally, which few of our feeble politicians are able to. It's his methods I find repugnant. He would argue that is the only way to achieve a necessary change in the balance of world power.'
'So what do we do now?'
'Eliminate Brazil and all his works…'
Craig made his way back round the side streets until he came out in Bahnhofstrasse almost opposite the Baur-en-Ville. Entering the reception hall, he saw Eve coming towards him.
'Craig, I wanted to…'
'Drop dead.'
Craig marched on, surveying the visitors sitting and chatting over tea. He went up to a thin man with a dead white face and a bandage round the back of his head.
'Marco, come upstairs with me. We're going to have a conference in Brazil's board room – with Luigi. Move the feet.'
'Charming man,' Eve said to herself after he had insulted her.
Then she listened carefully. Above the subdued hum of the voices of the scattering of guests she heard every word he'd said to Marco. Eve had acute hearing and Craig, still in a rage, had raised his voice more than he had intended to. She watched them disappear into a lift, waited, then walked into an empty one.
She had turned the corner into the long corridor leading to her room when she stopped, stepped back a few paces. Jose was just entering Brazil's living room. Presumably Craig and his henchmen had already gone into the board room.
She went back to her own room but left the door ajar. She was still holding the fresh glass of vodka she had ordered from the bar when she had met Craig coming back off the street downstairs. She sipped it, standing close to the door.
A few minutes later she heard a door close. When she glanced out she saw Jose walking away in the opposite direction. She decided to take another chance. Collecting the stethoscope from the cupboard, she stuffed it inside her shoulder bag, left her room, walked back to Brazil's living room. She opened the door quietly, the glass of vodka, half-drunk, in her other hand. The room was empty. She tiptoed over to the closed sliding doors leading to the board room, put her glass on a ledge, took out her stethoscope, listened. Craig was speaking, his tone ugly.
'I repeat, only Tweed is not to be harmed. God knows why. But that is Brazil's personal instruction.'
'You said all this before.' Marco's voice protested.
'Shut your face! Listen. I am saying it again to get it into your thick heads. You are listening, Luigi?'
'With both my ears.'
'Don't get funny with me. Listen, damn you! Every member of Tweed's team is a target for extermination. That includes Paula Grey, Robert Newman, Philip Cardon, and, possibly, Bill Franklin. We leave Franklin alone until we have confirmation of his real status.'
'Excuse me,' Luigi said. 'But do they know about Sion?'
'I am coming to that. I said listen. There are two other members of Tweed's gang, identities unknown at the moment. They appeared in Bahnhofplatz late this afternoon dressed in black leather motorcyclist outfits. They also will be killed, when we know who they are. Any questions so far?'
'Do they know about Sion?' Luigi asked anxiously.
'I'm sure they don't. Even if they did they will never reach it. I now come to my plan. They will never leave Zurich alive. How do we guarantee that? By stationing a group at Kloten Airport, another one at the Hauptbahn-hof in case they attempt to leave by train. They will be gunned down. Make sure they are dead.'
'Supposing they drive out of Zurich?' persisted Luigi.
'All motorways will have motorcyclist teams ready for that contingency. Zurich will be sealed off.' Craig paused. 'As a final reserve, do you have motorcyclist teams at Sion, Luigi?'
'An elite team waits there
Eve slipped her stethoscope back into her shoulder bag. She was careful to remember her glass of vodka as she crept out of the room and returned to her own bedroom. She locked the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily with tension.
'So, that's more than enough.' she said to herself. 'And Craig's top three deputies are Marco, the expert knife-thrower, Luigi, who appears to be in charge of whatever is at Sion, and Gustav, crack shot with a handgun. I wonder why he wasn't there?'
Gustav entered the bar at the Schweizerhof to find Brazil checking his watch, looking annoyed. He looked up, saw Gustav, frowned.
Even men fear my face, Gustav thought. Even the top man.
He hurried forward, full of apologies for not arriving earlier.
'Jose has twisted his right ankle, which makes it tricky for him to drive. I have the limo waiting outside.'
'Then let's go immediately. And don't open the door for me. I hate fuss.'
Half an hour later the operator rang Newman in his room. 'I have a gentleman on the phone. He won't give a name. He says you know him well, that you last met him at a place called Kimmeridge. I made him spell that name. I hope I have pronounced it correctly.'
'You have. Put him through.'
'Mr Newman?'
Only two words spoken on the phone but Newman recognized the voice at once. Archie.
'Yes, speaking. Very good to hear your voice.'
'Mr Newman, I know where you are. I am speaking from a call box nearby. May I come to see you?'
'Of course, Mr Sullivan. The concierge will give you my room number.'
Archie had gone. He was quick enough to know he should announce himself as Mr Sullivan to the concierge. Newman felt sure that Tweed would wish to see him, but he went along to his room to check.
Tweed was surprised to hear Archie was in Zurich but he said he would certainly see him with Newman.
Tb this room, I suggest.' he went on. 'It's larger. So you had better instruct the concierge.'
Newman met Archie at the lift, said nothing until he had escorted him to Tweed's room. Tweed greeted him warmly, showed him to a comfortable chair, asked him if he'd like something to drink.
'Just water, please.'
Archie wore a heavy fur coat which he removed, his battered hat and, as usual, he had the dead stub of a half-smoked cigarette at the corner of his mouth.
'May I ask how you knew Bob was here?' Tweed enquired amiably.
'Simple. I phoned Monica at Park Crescent. She was very thorough in checking me out, then she gave me the number of this hotel. Gentlemen, you are in very great danger.'
'What kind of danger?' asked Tweed.
'You are to be spared. Brazil has ordered you are not to be harmed in any way.' Archie paused, switched his gaze to Newman. 'My informant has just told me that Craig, with Brazil's backing, has ordered his thugs to exterminate every member of Tweed's team, including yourself.' He looked back at Tweed. 'They have names. Paula Grey, Robert Newman, Philip Garden. They also know two other men exist but so far they have no names.'
'I see.'
Tweed stood up, thrust his hands into his jacket pockets to conceal the fact he was clenching and unclenching them to regain self-control. He was in a state of fury he rarely experienced. The idea that he was to be left alive while his team was wiped out filled him with venom. He walked round the room several times, then sat down opposite Archie.
'Is the word 'exterminate' you used your own or, if you know, was it the word used by Craig?'
