'All will be welcome. But you must come well after dark. Take a taxi, tell the driver to drop you just before he reaches the Fish Market. Then walk along Grosse Elbstrasse. Soon, on your right you come to a high grassy bank. There is a footpath up to a terrace of old houses. Climb up the footpath. I am number 23. Keep in the shadows as you walk. I suggest we meet at eleven o'clock.'
'Tonight?' Tweed asked.
'Yes, tonight. Who can guarantee there will be a tomorrow? Thank you for calling…'
Someone tapped on his door. When he opened it, Paula walked in. She looked round the suite, walked out on to the balcony, took a deep breath of air, although it was still hot. She turned round.
'I should have asked if this is a convenient moment.'
'Very. Sit down. Listen.'
He relayed to her every word of his conversation with Dr Kefler. She frowned, gazing at him as he spoke from an armchair. He waved a hand.
'That's it,' he concluded.
'We're going, then?'
'Yes.'
'It all sounds rather menacing, downbeat. 'Come well after dark. Keep in die shadows. If there's a tomorrow',' Paula commented.
'On the contrary, Kefler sounded very jovial, very warm.'
'Well, Keith Kent did say Kefler reminded him of a teddy bear. But don't you think there was a grim element?'
'Yes, I do. We shall therefore take heavy protection.
Later we'll walk to the Hotel Renaissance where Harry Butler and Pete Nield are staying. I want Harry to guard our rear,' Tweed decided.
'And Mark?'
'Would be one too many.'
He went to the door. Someone had rapped hard on it. Opening it, he looked at the tall figure standing outside.
'Mr Tweed. I am Victor Rondel.'
Paula looked with curiosity as their visitor entered, was introduced to her. He held on to her hand only briefly and his grip was firm. She was rather struck by him.
Six feet tall, slim, athletically built, he was clean-shaven and had blond hair neatly brushed back from his forehead. His brown eyes had a humorous hint and his smile was attractive. In his late thirties or early forties, he was clad in a pale blue polo-neck sweater, fawn slacks with a razor-edged crease and white trainers. He accepted Tweed's invitation to sit down, paused when Tweed gestured to the champagne in an ice bucket the management had provided.
'It's not been opened. You might like to keep it for later.'
'The ice in the bucket is almost water now,' Tweed commented. 'I think you'd do us a favour if I opened it now.'
'Then I will be happy to do you that favour.'
He smiled again as Tweed took the bottle into the bathroom to open. He was smiling at Paula, who had perched herself on the arm of another chair.
'Would this be your first trip to Hamburg, Miss Grey?'
'Paula, please. No, it isn't. I was here quite a few years ago when the old family was running it. In this hotel, I mean.'
'Ah. The end of a dynasty. I fear a lot of that is happening these days. Thank heavens the new owners – a chain – have preserved its original character. I understand you are Mr Tweed's close assistant.'
She didn't reply because Tweed had returned with the bottle opened. He poured champagne into three of the six glasses laid out on a table, raised his glass.
'To peace and prosperity.'
'I will certainly drink to that,' Rondel agreed.
'How did you know I was here?' Tweed asked suddenly, still standing.
'I saw you and Miss Grey…'
'Paula, please,' she said again, smiling.
'I saw you and Paula come in when I was having coffee in the lounge downstairs. The gentry in Hamburg patronize that room.'
'But how did you know it was me?' Tweed persisted.
'Information is one essential element in my job. Sometimes more valuable than gold. You are the Deputy Director of the SIS.'
'And may I ask you what your job is?'
'You just did.' Rondel laughed pleasantly. 'I am one of the two partners who control the Zurcher Kredit Bank.'
'With a reputation of being the most trustworthy bank in the world.'
'I would hope so. I would most certainly hope so.' Rondel emptied his glass. 'Thank you for the drink. That champagne is a most superior brand. Now, I have taken up enough of your time. This was in the way of a first introduction. We would be most happy if you could be our guests at one of the best restaurants in town.' He extracted from his chamois wallet a long off-white card, handed it to Paula. 'We have reserved a good table for you for tomorrow night. I hope that is acceptable. The table number is on the back.'
'Very kind of you,' replied Tweed. 'Would I be out of order if I brought someone else as well as Paula? A man called Robert Newman.'
'Ah! The world-famous foreign correspondent. He would be most welcome.'
'I will, of course, pay for him…'
'You won't be able to.' Rondel laughed again. 'The manager will have been instructed to put three guests on my account. No argument, please. Oh, I hope you will not think it unfriendly, but you will be dining by yourselves. I shall be at another table with my partner – by tomorrow evening an urgent cable will have arrived and we must make a decision.'
'That is quite all right. You refer to 'we', and mention your partner.'
'That, as I think I mentioned, is who I shall be dining with.' Rondel stood up. 'Soon we may well wish you to visit us at our headquarters.'
'Which are where?'
'Information never disclosed in advance.' Rondel smiled again, shook hands with both of them. 'We will keep in touch…'
Alone with Paula, Tweed looked at her. Taking off his glasses, he polished them with a clean handkerchief, perched them back on his nose.
'What did you think of him?'
'Bit of a whirlwind. I liked him. Never met anyone like him before. I've heard of this restaurant.' She handed him the card. 'It is supposed to be super.'
'Fischereihafen Restaurant,' Tweed read aloud. 'Grosse Elbstrasse 143. That means it's not so far from where Dr Kefler lives. Hafen, you know, means harbour.'
'What did you think of him?' Paula asked.
'Very secretive. Rondel cleverly evaded giving us the name of his partner – and where their headquarters are situated. I wonder how he found out who I was, that we'd be coming here? Paula, on this journey into a mirage we can trust no one except our own team. No one.'
'You found Rondel suspect?'
'I didn't say that.' Someone knocked on the door. 'Maybe that's Newman. He's staying here, of course, as is Mark.'
Tweed opened the door, was taken aback. Standing there with a half-smile on her face was Lisa Trent.
