'Craig apparently used that exact word,' Archie replied, and took a sip of water from the glass Newman had given him.
'I see,' Tweed said again.
'The danger is grave,' Archie continued. 'My informant told me there will be teams of killers waiting at the airport, at the main station across the way, also teams of motorcyclists watching the motorways out of Zurich.'
'They've sewn us up pretty tightly,' Newman remarked.
Archie smiled, a warm smile. 'Now I must go.'
'How much do I owe you for your expenses and your fee?' Newman asked.
Two thousand francs for expenses. This time I do not want a fee. Marler is always very generous with me. And this time, bearing in mind the grave news I bring, I am glad to do you a favour.'
Newman took out his wallet, peeled off four thousand-franc notes, laid them on the table in front of Archie. He picked up two of the banknotes and left their twins.
'Do not embarrass me. I should go now.'
'This hotel may be watched.' Tweed warned. He stood up to go to the windows, realized the curtains had been closed. 'It will be dark outside.' he warned a second time.
'It was dark when I entered via the Bistro, the small snack restaurant open to the public with a door on to the street. I came in that way.' Archie explained. 'I shall go back that way, order a cup of coffee and wait until I see some girls leaving. I will leave with them, asking them in German how to get to the lake. When I arrived I came into the Bistro, as I have said, then I walked into the lobby by the door which leads into the hotel. Any watcher will have seen one man enter the cafe and the same man come out with a couple of girls. I am most careful.'
'Thank you for all your help.' Tweed said, standing up and escorting him to the door. 'You must take care of yourself. Wild animals are on the prowl.'
'Thank you. And do not forget Marchat in Sion.'
After Newman had returned from escorting Archie to the lobby, but without leaving the lift himself, he found Tweed pacing again.
'It looks as though we're trapped.' Newman commented.
'That is how it would appear.' Tweed replied.
30
Earlier on the same day Philip had caught an express from Zurich to Geneva. He would have liked to visit the dining car but felt he could not leave his case in the first-class compartment. The train was quiet and he had the compartment to himself during the journey diagonally across Switzerland.
It began snowing heavily soon after the train had left Zurich. Watching the slanting fall of the white curtain he nearly fell asleep. He got up, opened the window, let ice-cold air sweep into the compartment for a few minutes, then closed the window.
After stopping briefly at Berne, the express moved on and the snow ceased. Later, to the east, he had a panoramic view as the sky cleared and the sun came out. He could see the western end of the massive Bernese Oberland range which guarded the entrance to the Valais.
'Doesn't look too inviting,' he said to himself.
Arriving at Geneva, he took a taxi to the Hotel des Bergues, asked for a room overlooking the Rhone. He had an early dinner and by the time he returned to his room it was dark. He stood by the window looking across the Rhone where small ice floes drifted past.
He was recalling the firefight he had shared with Paula in the Old City. Lord, the lady had guts. He wished now she was coming with him. The silence in the room began to get on his nerves. He turned on the radio for some music. Ever since his wife's death he had not been able to stand silence inside a room on his own.
Setting the alarm on his travelling clock for an early rising, he took a shower, put on his pyjamas, and flopped into bed. He read a few pages of a paperback, turned off the bedside light, and promptly became alert. He was thinking of Jean.
He had stayed at this hotel with his late wife, had been careful on arrival they didn't give him the same room. He lay still, on his back. This room had a double bed. The room he had shared with Jean had also had a double bed. It was automatic for Philip to have chosen the right-hand side as viewed from the bottom of the bed. Jean had always slept on the other side.
Eve came into his mind. He suddenly realized that when alone he often thought of Jean – daily, in fact. But he rarely thought of Eve, despite the amount of time he had spent with her. And it was only when he was with her that she held him in her spell. He knew she was coming closer to him each time they met. He also knew now that he was not on the same waveband as her.
He turned over before he fell into a deep sleep. On one side the pillow was damp. The alarm woke him with a start. He had been dreaming he was with Jean, walking down the street of a strange town as they chattered with each other like magpies. They had never been short of something to talk about.
He washed, shaved, got dressed quickly. He took his coat and case down to the Pavilion restaurant with him. In the lobby a fat man with a bushy moustache was reading a paper. For a moment their eyes met.
Philip had checked the train times the night before as he ate dinner. He arrived at Cornavin Station some minutes before the express was due to leave. When it moved slowly into the station he was standing behind a pillar where he could see the full length of the express. The metal plates on the outsides of the coaches gave the destinations, ending with Milano.
No one else was about except for a couple of uniformed railway staff. He was also watching the second hand on the platform clock. Swiss trains always left dead on time. No one appeared to have boarded trie express as he ran forward, climbed into a first-class coach. The automatic door closed behind him and the long international express glided out of Cornavin.
The one section of the train Philip had not been able to watch was the front coach, due to a curve in the platform. It did not surprise him he was the sole passenger. At this early hour, at the beginning of March, he had anticipated few passengers.
In the coach he sat in a seat for two, facing the engine and two similar seats. He had chosen the left side of the train because on the other side it would soon be running past Lake Geneva. He did not wish to recall the memory of his previous journey with Jean when they had gazed out at the panoramic view of the lake and the mountains of France on the far shore.
Philip's emotional mood had changed. He was in a grim frame of mind.
'God help anyone who gets in my way.' he said to himself.
The coach door leading to the next section slid open and a man walked slowly towards him. A fat man with a bushy moustache and a ruddy, outdoor face. The man who had sat in the lobby of the Hotel des Bergues the previous evening.
'May I sit down opposite you, sir?' the fat man asked.
He spoke in English, had an overcoat over his arm, wore a black suit with a pale yellow tie bisecting a clean white shirt. He remained standing while he waited for Philip's reply.
Outwardly, Philip was amiable – he even smiled. He gestured towards the seat.
'Please do.'
Inwardly he was totally alert, ice-cold. If this was the beginning of trouble so be it. He would render the newcomer unconscious.
'Most kind of you.' the fat man said as he settled himself. 'We appear to be the only two passengers on the express so far. I like a little company when I'm travelling. My card, sir.'
Philip took the small piece of pasteboard. He read it with a shock.
Leon Vincenau. Inspecteur. Police. Geneve.
'Thank you.' he said quickly. He smiled again as he handed the card back to the fat man. Vincenau waved a hand.
'Please keep it. You might want to get in touch with me.'
