'We've actually walking in a circle to take us back to the hotel,' Tweed told her.
'I can hear a strange noise. Water rushing.'
'That is the sluice, which is quite spectacular. Heaven help anyone who takes the wrong turning on the waterways and finds himself being carried down it. They do have notices on the walls warning sailors. And we're nearly at Pont St-Martin. That's the bridge nearest the sluice. We might take a look at it.'
Tweed had started walking again and the sound of water rushing at immense speed grew louder. Paula stopped again.
'What is it now?' Tweed asked gently.
'I can hear a different sound. Chug-chug. Like the motor of a launch.'
'You're right. And it's coming closer. Don't look over that wall,' he warned.
'I'd take his advice,' said Kent. 'Stay where you are now.'
They had all stopped. Paula looked back. Marler held up a hand to keep her where she was. She watched him as he conferred with Butler and Nield briefly. Perplexed, she watched as Butler took a beret from his pocket. He placed it at the end of his Walther. He was standing by the wall.
Paula took her Browning from under her coat as the chug-chug grew nearer and nearer. Keeping his head well clear of the far edge of the wall, Butler eased the beret forward until it perched over the brink. There was a shattering rattle of machine-pistol fire. The beret was shredded, disappeared. Marler, dipping his hand into the holdall slung over his shoulder, took out one of his remaining grenades.
Butler had taken off his scarf. He wrapped it round his Walther. He had twisted the scarf so in the gloom it looked almost like a man's head. Again he eased his weapon close to the edge, then a few inches over the brink. A fresh murderous rattle from a machine-pistol ripped the scarf to bits. It was a long burst and when it stopped Paula guessed the unseen weapon needed reloading.
Immediately Marler looked over the top of the wall, dropped the grenade. Ignoring Tweed's warning, Paula was peering along the waterway. Illuminated by a street lamp she saw the small launch she had seen much earlier, tied to a landing stage. In the launch stood Ronstadt, fiddling desperately with the machine-pistol. With him was a moon-faced man and a third man with a hard bony face. She saw Marler's grenade dropping and jerked her head back. The detonation, although muffled by the walls, still sounded very loud in the silence of the night. Looking back over the wall Paula saw the half- wrecked launch racing towards her. Moonface had been at the controls and had kept the engine running. Now it proceeded along the waterway without any human guidance. Tweed, Newman and Kent were also gazing at it as the launch passed below them. Three crumpled bodies lay in it, motionless.
'It's taking in water,' said Tweed. 'And it's near the sluice.'
They watched, hypnotized, as it entered the narrow sluice of churning, foaming water. The launch slid downwards, toppled over sideways, casting its cargo into the maelstrom. In seconds the corpses had disappeared, swallowed up by the wild water.
'I hope no one has unpacked,' Tweed said as they approached the entrance to the Hotel Regent.
No one had. Tweed was walking quickly as they reached the hotel. He paused for a moment while they were still outside.
'We're leaving immediately,' he told them. 'We're driving now to Paris, then on to London. Get your bags and we meet in the lobby. I'll pay for the rooms.'
Paula waited with him while he explained to the receptionist he had received an urgent message. If anyone wanted to contact him would she please tell them they were on their way to Paris, that they might stay a few hours at the Ritz before going on to London.
He was walking along the first-floor corridor when they heard voices behind a closed door as Newman joined them. Tweed put a finger to his lips and they stopped to listen. Denise's voice was clear and very loud.
'I won't take any more from you. You were a horrible person back at the Embassy…'
'Don't you dare talk to me like that, you friggin' little -traitor,' an unrecognizable voice shouted and roared. 'You've had enough money out of the Embassy funds to put Versace on your rotten little back.'
'You're always pestering me!' Denise screamed back. 'Back at the Embassy I avoided you whenever I could.'
'I'll kill you if you say any more. I'll push you out of a high window, watch you fall, hit the street with a splash of blood!'
'No you won't,' Denise shrieked back. 'From now on I'll take good care there's always a witness with me!'
'A witness! What are you insinuating, you ignorant wretch? You think the organization can't do without you? Who are you, anyway? A small-time adventuress!'
Tweed started walking swiftly towards his room with Paula and Newman. No one said anything until he reached it.
'They were having quite a party, weren't they?' Tweed remarked.
43
Tweed again insisted on driving and Paula was beside him as navigator, a new section of map open on her lap. In the back Newman sat with Keith Kent. Behind them followed Marler, with Nield and Butler as passengers. If Paula had expected Tweed to take it easy along the auto-route to Paris she was soon disillusioned.
He rapidly built up speed until Strasbourg was just a distant memory. Newman leaned down against his seat belt, removed his bandage, felt his ankle, flexed it this way and that. Kent asked him how it was. Newman replied it was OK.
'Tweed,' he called out, 'my ankle is normal now. I can take over the wheel whenever you want me to.' 'Maybe later.'
'Maybe never,' Paula said under her breath. She looked at Tweed. 'I was surprised at the twists and turns of our conversation with Sharon and Ed Osborne in the bar. You came out with some pretty blunt remarks,' she continued, glancing over her shoulder.
'They did so at my suggestion,' Tweed informed her. 'I had a few words with Bob and Keith at the reception counter. They reacted splendidly. And you, Paula, caught on quick and added your own loaded comments. You sensed the rhythm of how things were going very skilfully.'
'Did you learn something from that conversation, then?'
'Let's say I found it intriguing.'
'I thought Sharon held her own very well, bearing in mind that Osborne was present. Who knows how much power that man wields,' Paula said thoughtfully.
'That's what all this spilt blood and upheaval is about,' Tweed told her. 'Power. It's all about power, which can intoxicate people.'
'The only thing you said during the conversation referred to power,' Paula recalled. 'Apart from that you kept absolutely quiet.'
'I was listening, watching.'
'Why,' she asked, 'did you leave details of where we're going at the Hotel Regent reception? Not like you.'
'So that anyone who wants to follow us knows where to head for. We might as well flush out as many of them as we can.'
'So Paris may not be safe.'
'Nowhere is safe now.'
'You're really stepping on the gas,' she said.
'I'm convinced we're almost fatally short of time.'
Rear Admiral Honeywood, known throughout the naval service as Crag, settled himself into his chair on the control deck of the immense aircraft carrier, the President. The vast array of escorts were way ahead of their bow, way behind their stern and spread out to port and starboard.
'We'll be on station in the English Channel, I reckon, about two days from now,' he remarked to his Operations Officer.
