'Why should they?' demanded Tweed.
'I've no idea.'
'Then I'll tell you. It's because the satellites have not picked up what those alarming reports are saying. They haven't picked them up because they're not happening. Yet.'
'What does that mean, sir?'
'Keep up the good work. Soon you may really be overwhelmed with shattering news.'
Before Reginald could ask what he meant Tweed left, went back to his office. Monica poured coffee from a large pot, added milk. Tweed sat down, drank a whole cupful at one steady gulp. Monica refilled the cup.
'I'm going to have a nap in this chair,' Tweed said when he had drunk the second cup.
He had just closed his eyes when the phone rang. He kept them closed until Monica called out.
'Sorry, I have Beck on the line…'
'Hello, Arthur. I arrived here in record time. Your aircrew are superb. They're standing by at Heathrow for when I want to take off again.'
'Good. More news. Brazil has again delayed his flight departure aboard the jet at Kloten. He's playing cat and mouse.'
'What he doesn't know is I'm the cat, he's the mouse. If you call again and I'm not here, speak to Monica. She will know how to contact me. What's the weather like in Zurich?'
'A typical British question. It's snowing, not heavily. Brazil's pilot gave that as the reason why he's changed the flight plan.'
'But he could have taken off?'
'The security chief at Kloten told me he most certainly could have done.'
'Which means Brazil is working to a timetable. Thanks for keeping me in touch. Appreciate it if you'd keep doing so…'
'So what are you waiting for?' Monica asked as she put down her phone after listening in.
'Brazil's big bang. The trouble is I'm not sure what form it will take. But we'll know when it happens.'
Tweed closed his eyes again and fell fast asleep after pulling his tie loose and unfastening his collar.
In Zurich Brazil had summoned Craig to his living room. Igor, seated by Brazil's side, stood up and bared its teeth as the visitor entered the room…'
'Sit down, Craig. Is everyone travelling aboard the jet ready to leave?'
'They have been ready for several hours.'
'It's time to go.' Brazil looked at his watch. 'It is a short flight so I should reach the villa in time. I want you to contact the flight controller at Sion airfield to have the runway ready for us to land.'
'The cars are standing by to take us straight to Kloten.' Craig reported smugly.
'I should hope they are.'
'Who will look after Igor aboard the plane?' Craig enquired, eyeing the hound without enthusiasm. 'Jose?'
'No. You will. He likes resting his forepaws in a lap when he's airborne. Your lap should serve nicely.'
'You said you would reach the villa in time. In time to do what?'
'To send the first signal to the laboratory across the valley.'
'The signal to do what?' Craig rumbled on.
'You'll find out when it happens, won't you?' Brazil smiled broadly. 'Now, off you go, get the others on their way to the airport. And send Eve in to me for a word.'
'She's probably asleep.'
'Wake her up, then.'
Eve was still up, drinking and smoking, when Craig hammered on her door.
'Can't you knock more quietly?' she demanded when she opened the door and saw who was there.
'No. The boss wants to see you. This very second. So make with the feet.'
'You know, Craig, you have the most charming way of expressing yourself.'
Her retort was wasted. Craig was already clumping off down the corridor to tell everyone they were leaving. Eve checked her appearance in the mirror, used a brush to smooth down her jet-black hair behind her neck.
She then walked slowly along the corridor, entered Brazil's room without knocking, closed the door, drifted across to the chair in front of the desk, sat down and crossed her shapely legs. No one was going to hurry her.
'You can certainly move,' Brazil said sarcastically.
'Where is the doggie?'
'Craig will shortly be taking him to the airport. You get on with Robert Newman rather well. Is that right?'
'Yes, I do,' she lied. 'Why? Do you want me to make up to him?'
'Why, I wonder, do men fall for you so easily?'
'Men are propelled by desire for attractive women. It must be my irresistible personality,' she said cynically.
'If you say so.' Brazil checked the time by his watch. 'I must go in a minute.'
'What was the point of asking me about Newman?'
'I was coming to that. I will, in due course, return to Zurich. Some unfinished business I have to attend to. It's just possible Newman will follow me back here. If he's still alive. In that contingency you can practise your black magic arts on him. I would want to know where Tweed was. You could manage that, couldn't you?'
'Shouldn't be impossible. I worked it with those bankers you asked me to get to know.' She leaned forward. 'The ones who were murdered by some unknown creature. After all…' She leaned back again. 'I do have Philip Cardon salivating over me.'
'Gustav will stay behind to give you moral support.' Brazil said as he stood up, put on a heavy blue overcoat which had lain folded on a chair beside him. 'He'll be company for you.'
'Company I could do without.'
'He's really quite a nice chap – when you get to know him.' Brazil said with a smile as he picked up a briefcase.
'I have no intention of getting to know him. That man.' she said through her teeth, 'is a creep. Have a quiet trip.'
'I can assure you, it will be anything but quiet.'
'I think Sion looked better in the mist.' Paula said as they walked away from the car park next to the Hotel Touring where Philip had left their vehicle. 'It could be any small modern town. Oh, Lord, here they come again.'
Two Leather Bombers had appeared on their machines, riding slowly towards them. No one else was about. Philip slipped his hand inside his brown leather jacket and gripped his Walther.
'Keep walking. Don't look at them. We're lovers on holiday.'
He wrapped his left arm round her waist, stopped, kissed her on the cheek. As they started walking again one of the motorcyclists called out something filthy in French.
'Minds like sewers.' Philip commented. 'Just keep walking.'
The motorcyclists had passed them, were continuing down the street towards the station. Paula resisted her impulse to look back.
'I'm hungry.' she said. 'I suppose it's too early for lunch.'
'Not at the restaurant we passed just up the street. So we'll have a leisurely meal. And, if you're very polite to me, I'll start off by buying you that brandy you wanted back at the hotel before we started off up the mountain.'
'That seems a hundred years ago. Yes, sir, I do believe I would appreciate a brandy. Is that polite enough?'
'It will do…'
They ordered Tweed's favourite dish, escalope Zurichoise, a substantial dish, and ate two servings. The restaurant was small and tidy with crisp white tablecloths and no one else in the place. Over their meal they tried
