'I don't think that will be necessary.'
As Buchanan replied there was a heavy rumbling noise behind them. Newman glanced back to see a large vehicle transporter pulling in behind them. Men in working clothes got out, started walking round the Lincoln.
'May I ask what is happening?' Venacki enquired smoothly.
'You may. That Lincoln is blocking the road. The transporter will take it on board and move it. I'll get you a taxi.'
'Taxi coming,' said Newman, flagging it down. 'Good.' Buchanan stared coldly at Venacki. 'That will take you wherever you were going.'
'And the Lincoln?'
'Will be dumped outside your Embassy. Alternatively it could be taken to a maintenance garage to see if repair is possible.'
'No, thank you,' Venacki said hastily. 'Grosvenor Square will do nicely.'
'Then I suggest all four of you are on your way in the cab. I may add that if he hadn't had a diplomatic passport Diamond Waltz would have been arrested on a criminal charge. An incident here a month ago.'
'Thank you for your help, Chief Inspector.'
'I suggest you leave at once. Meter's ticking up on the cab.'
Buchanan had offered to drive Tweed home. He was talking as the Lincoln was swiftly manoeuvred aboard the transporter. Newman had earlier used gloves to wrench off the wreckage he had hauled off the Lincoln. The four-wheel drive was in perfect driving condition.
'I saw the light was still on in his office,' Buchanan said as they mounted the stairs together. 'Time he went home.'
'I suppose you're right,' Tweed agreed when Buchanan made his offer. 'Monica is staying on, checking the names I gave her. And Roy can tell me what happened outside – plus I have a few things to tell him.'
'What about Paula?' Newman asked as they went back down the stairs with Buchanan.
'She's staying on too…'
This had been Marler's suggestion.
'The Ear will be more comfortable if I have Paula with me in the waiting room,' he explained to Tweed.
'He relaxes more in women's company – that is, the few he can trust.'
'He may not trust me,' Paula pointed out.
'He will. His ability to weigh up people is remarkable. He has an uncanny knowledge of human nature. But only if you feel up to it.'
'I can't wait to meet the Ear,' she replied.
3
When Newman had left the building with Tweed and Buchanan, Marler set the stage for the arrival of the Ear. He raided the drinks cupboard of Howard, the Director. Holding three glasses and a bottle of white wine he took them downstairs and laid them on the bare wooden table in the waiting room. He then upset George.
'I'll guard the front door. You go upstairs and make yourself at home in one of the offices. Not Tweed's.'
'I'm supposed to be the guard,' the red-faced ex-army sergeant protested.
'I know. We have someone coming who won't want to be recognized.'
'Have it your own way.'
'I'm going to…'
With Paula seated at one of the three chairs round the table, Marler waited behind George's desk, listening for the sound of a taxi pulling up. Instead, after half an hour someone rang the bell. Peering through the spy-hole in the heavy front door Marler stared in surprise, then opened it. He ushered the Ear into the waiting room, closed the door.
'This is Paula. I hope you don't mind her being with us.'
Paula looked at their visitor. She hadn't expected such a small man. No more than five feet tall, he had shuffled in and now he gazed at her through thick pebble glasses, perched on the bridge of a hooked nose. He took off the glasses, glanced at Marler before reverting his gaze to Paula.
'Disguise,' he explained. 'Nice name, Paula,' he went on, still staring at her in a way she did not find offensive.
Without the glasses he became a different person. His nose seemed even more hooked, his thin mouth was firm, his jaw pointed. Penetrating blue eyes surveyed her. His cheekbones were prominent and his thick dark eyebrows curled upwards. He reminded her of a Dickensian character.
'I shall be very happy for the lady to be present,' he decided. 'I like your clothes,' he told Paula. 'Smart but not a mantrap.'
'He does speak his mind, Marler said quickly.
'I think he has a wonderful sense of humour.' Paula laughed. 'His description of me is perfect.'
'And very practical shoes. For moving silently or running.'
He doesn't miss a thing, thought Paula, who had her legs crossed, exposing the rubber sole of one shoe. The explanation he had given was precisely the reason she wore them. Marler pulled out a chair for their visitor to sit down. He extended a hand to Paula. His grip was firm.
'I am Kurt Schwarz.'
'I don't think Kurt will mind my telling you his base is in Switzerland. In Basel.'
Marler sat down in a chair facing them. The Ear put down on the floor an old trilby hat he had been carrying. He wore a shabby windcheater with patches on the sleeves and a pair of denims which had seen better days.
Below the sharp nose his Adam's apple was also prominent, heightening the Dickensian impression. He picked up the bottle of wine, glanced at it, put the bottle down.
'Not bad, could be better,' he told Marler.
'You don't have to drink it.'
'That would be impolite. And I wish to toast the health of this charming lady.'
'Flattery will get you somewhere. How did you find those old clothes? You look like a tramp.'
'I saw a junk shop still open on the way from the airport. I told the cab driver to drop me there. They had a selection of second-hand clothes. There was a public lavatory nearby. I went into it after leaving the shop and changed in a cubicle.'
'Kurt,' commented Paula, 'your English is very good.' 'I once spent two years in Hammersmith. Is it still there?'
'Unfortunately, yes.'
'Well, Hammersmith is like Hampstead compared to half of Paris. Tourists don't see the slums I know so well.' He watched Marler struggling with a gadget to extract the cork from the wine bottle. 'I could get that cork out now with my teeth. Maybe yours are false.'
'That's enough of that.'
Marler poured the wine. The Ear raised his glass. 'To Paula, a long and happy life.'
'Thank you,' she said as they clinked glasses.
'What did you do with the clothes you came across in?' Marler asked.
'Put them inside the canvas hold-all by the side of my chair.' He reached down, pulled out a black beret, fitted it on to his thick grey hair. He still reminded Paula of a Dickensian character. Even his voice fitted – it was hoarse but warm. 'Now, shall we be serious?'
'That's why you're here,' Marler replied.
'The Americans have transmitted electronically one hundred million dollars to an account at the Zurcher Kredit Bank on Bankverein.'
'That's in Basel?'
'Yes.'
'You're sure of your information?'
'Of course. I shouldn't let you know but I have a teller in that bank who is a contact. For a fee.'
