suitcase and searching him thoroughly, the officials allowed him to depart, after making a note of data on his passport.
Once outside, he had walked slowly to a phone – in case he was under observation. He had then called Delgado.
'So where the hell are they flying to?' Delgado had snapped.
'Hamburg. I saw them enter the departure lounge.'
'This is good. You do well. Stay there and I arrive. We catch later flight to Hamburg. Moment – I check airline table
Delgado had a collection of international rail and airline timetables. After a few minutes he gave Donau instructions where to wait. Then he called Oscar Vernon. Pink Shirt answered immediately.
'I will come with you,' Oscar said. 'Now I have the time and number of the flight I will phone Heathrow to book three tickets to be kept for collection. The instruction is the same. Kill Lisa, kill Tweed…'
'Lisa left clinic. We lose her…'
'Where Tweed goes, so does Lisa. We will find them.'
'B and P have made it,' Delgado informed his boss. He was referring to Barton and Panko escaping from prison. 'I tell them go express train Newcastle. From Newcastle ferry go to Hamburg. I give address Hotel Renaissance, Grosse Bleichen.'
Unlike his fractured English, Delgado spoke fluent German. It was a talent he shared with Oscar, but the latter had been careful not to let Delgado know this – he might later hear Delgado say something in German he didn't wish Oscar to understand. Also, the Renaissance was where Oscar would stay when he arrived.
'You have done well,' he said.
'We have no defenders,' Delgado protested.
'Defenders' was the code word they used when phoning each other for weapons.
'I have a friend in Bremen,' Oscar assured him. 'I will phone him, tell him to bring defenders to Hamburg main rail station. Bremen is close to Hamburg. I must go now.'
Oscar did not think it wise to explain that at Bremen, being a port, weapons were smuggled in from arriving freighters. He kept to a minimum vital data passed on to subordinates.
Delgado put down the phone, went into the bathroom, looked at himself in the mirror. He did now look like a successful businessman. Once again he wondered who was the man Oscar took his orders from.
CHAPTER 15
Hamburg.
Tweed and Paula walked out of the Fuhlsbuttl Airport and the heat hit them like walking into a brick wall. The limo from the Four Seasons was waiting for them. The young chauffeur was pleasant, welcoming them with a warm smile. Soon they were well inside the great city and Paula stared out, admiring the stately villas as they drove down Rothenbaum-chaussee.
Despite the fact that it was late June the plane had been more than half empty so they had been able to talk without any fear of being overheard.
'We were followed at Heathrow,' Paula commented. 'Right up to the departure lounge.'
'I know,' Tweed replied. 'A small man carrying a small case. Quite professional. He varied his walk – sometimes bouncing along and then walking slowly. We could have a reception party waiting for us in Hamburg.'
'Have you any idea yet who is behind all this?'
'None at all…'
Mark Wendover had wandered down the aisle from behind them and jogged the tray of Tweed, sitting in the aisle seat.
'I'm so sorry, sir,' he apologized.
'That's all right. Been a smooth flight so far.'
'I spent hours, days at Reefers Wharf watching for Delgado to return – so I could identify where he lived.
He never reappeared. Mentioned this to Harry and he said I should have checked the street at the back of the warehouse. The backs have fire escapes – so he thinks Delgado spotted me and used the fire escape from then on. Enjoy the flight…'
They were driving down the Neuer Jungfernstieg when Paula caught her first glimpse of the Binnenalster, the smaller of two lakes in the centre of the city. She glowed with delight and excitement as she gazed at the blue water, rippling and glittering in the sunlight. Single-decker ferries were shuttling back and forth, some heading back for the landing stage at Jungfernstieg.
'We're just about there,' said Tweed.
As they alighted on the pavement in front of the Four Seasons hotel a motorcyclist, who had trailed behind them since they left the airport, sped past and disappeared. Tweed shrugged as they entered the spacious reception hall and they registered.
'It's a long time since we've had the pleasure of seeing you, Mr Tweed,' the receptionist greeted him.
'We both have suites on the third floor,' Tweed told Paula. He lowered his voice. 'Let's take a quick look round. For generations this hotel was run by the same family. It's been taken over by a foreign chain. I just want to see if they've had the sense to preserve its wonderful character.'
As they strolled into a spacious sitting area a curious incident occurred. One of the elevators reached the ground floor. The doors opened. Inside stood a late-middle-aged man of medium height, well-built and wearing gold-rimmed glasses. His eyes met Tweed's briefly, then he stayed inside, pressed a button and the elevator climbed to the second floor.
'That was odd,' Paula remarked.
'Probably forgotten something in his room.'
He showed her a gallery with portraits in gilt frames hung from the walls. Luxuriously covered chairs were placed close to the walls so people could sit and take their ease. He then took her through another spacious room, where men and women sat drinking, and into the Grill Room.
'This is magnificent,' said Paula. 'I wouldn't mind eating up there.'
She pointed to a balcony on the first floor overlooking the main restaurant. On their way back to the elevators Tweed peered into a smaller room with tables laid. 'The Cafe Condi,' he explained. 'More than a cafe -you can get lunch here. The service is excellent and the food very good. I think we should go up to our suites now. I want to phone Dr Kefler, the financial genius as Keith Kent called him. The sooner we see him the better…'
They were passing reception when they saw Marler registering. He had come from the airport on his own by taxi. He looked up, saw them, looked away as though he didn't know them.
'Did you say I'm in Room…?' he called out in a loud voice to the receptionist.
He had now told them where they could find him. Tweed was shown into his suite while another porter took charge of Paula. Alone, he walked to the balcony and stood there a moment. The trees which lined the far side of the road were in full leaf but, on the third floor, he could see over the tops and had a clear view of the Binnenalster. Peace.
Going back inside he sat down, checked the number Kent had given him, pressed the number for an outside line and then the German's number.
'Who is this?' a gruff voice demanded in German.
'My name is Tweed. We have a mutual acquaintance…'
'Ah! You have arrived quickly. Keith phoned me that you were coming, gave me your description. A necessary precaution. I am Kefler.'
The German was speaking in English now. A necessary precaution? It had an almost sinister sound.
'I'm at the Four Seasons, Dr Kefler.' He gave him his suite number. 'I would like to see you as urgently as possible. Also, I would like to bring my assistant, Paula Grey – and Robert Newman, the foreign correspondent.'
