been promised.'
Kuhlmann stood up, stretched his arms. The conference was over. As they all stood up he went to Paula, gave her another bear hug.
'It's about power, isn't it?' she said.
'Shrewd lady,' Kuhlmann said for the third time. He looked at Tweed who had moved near the exit door. 'I wish I had her on my staff.'
'Go on wishing,' said Tweed.
They walked back across the Rathaus Square. Leading the way, Paula decided she'd like to stroll on the platform close to the landing stage to get a good view of the lake at night. A small launch drifted a few feet away with a single man aboard, fishing.
'Liaison,' said Paula. 'A word used more than once. It almost sounds like Lisa.'
'Now you're being fanciful,' Tweed told her.
The rifle report echoed in the night. The bullet hit the water. Where it had vanished was a pool of swirls. Tweed grabbed hold of Paula, hauled her across the platform, sat her down under cover of the ticket building. Newman stayed in the open, revolver in his hand, scanning the buildings across the road. The bullet had missed Paula by about ten feet. The lone fisherman used a paddle to bring his craft up against the landing stage. He was waving an envelope. Newman ran across the platform, bent down, tore the envelope from his hand, opened it.
'Who gave you this?' he shouted.
It was too late. The fisherman had used a boathook to push his launch beyond reach. He started an engine, guided the craft towards the middle of the Alster. Livid, Newman handed the note, typed on a blank sheet of paper, to Tweed. Reading it once, Tweed stuffed the sheet into his pocket. Its message was clear, brutal.
Go home. Get out of Germany within 24 hours. The next bullet will blow Paula's skull to smithereens. That one was a deliberate miss.
Tweed took hold of Paula, lifted her up, hustled her off the platform down into the street. Newman stayed on the platform, his revolver swinging slowly across the buildings opposite, searching for any sign of movement. Then he joined Tweed and Paula, so she was sandwiched between them as they hurried back to the hotel.
'What was in that note?' Paula asked.
'A threat. They have declared war. So, as from tomorrow, we will give them war in all its hell.'
She had never known him so angry, so forceful, wearing such a ruthless look.
CHAPTER 19
The three of them had just returned to. the hotel., were heading for the elevators, when a tall distinguished- looking man appeared. Bernard, the Brigadier, still clad in his dinner jacket. He came up to Tweed.
'Just the chap I want to talk to. Meet you in the lounge. What's your tipple?'
'Thank you, but not tonight. I have phone calls to make. I could spare a few minutes tomorrow evening. Early, though.'
'It will have to wait, then.' He was not best pleased. 'The lounge tomorrow. 1800 hours. Right.'
'He didn't like that,' Paula remarked as the elevator ascended.
'He's a Brigadier. Used to people jumping to it when he gives an order…'
Newman said goodnight while Tweed and Paula walked towards their rooms. Tweed paused outside his door, looked along the corridor, which was empty.
'I'm worried about you. That bullet came within a dozen feet of you. I know I won't sleep tonight. Mind's whirling. Would you feel more at ease if you used my bedroom? I'll be in the living area. Can always sleep on the couch if I do feel I'm dozing off, which is unlikely.'
'I would feel safer,' Paula admitted. I'll fetch my things from my room…'
She returned quickly with her night attire and cosmetics case in a hold-all. Looking at the couch she frowned.
'Not sure this is a good idea. You'd never sleep on that couch. Think I'll go back.'
'Take over my bedroom area, pull the curtains. Sleep well.'
He sat down at his desk, took out the papers Kefler had given him, studied them. He soon realized it was hopeless – he was no accountant. And he suspected it would need a first-class one to sort out the tangle. Picking up the phone, he called Keith Kent. He knew he worked through the night.
'Tweed here, Keith. Speaking from Hamburg, Four Seasons Hotel.' He gave Kent his suite number. 'I have some very complex financial papers given to me by your German friend – and I want them analysed. It concerns the company which you mentioned in our conversation in London. No chance, I suppose, of your coming over here?'
'Hang on…'
Tweed straightened up the papers, put them back inside the envelope, then Kent was back on the line.
'I'm catching an earliest possible flight tomorrow. Should reach you by lunchtime. Say noon or soon after.'
'I'm very grateful. I'll book you a room here.'
'See you. Very soon…'
Tweed sat facing a wall, recalling all the events that had occurred from the beginning. Less than half an hour later Paula appeared, wearing a belted dressing gown over her nightdress and slippers, sat in a chair by the side of the desk.
'Can't sleep. Or am I interfering with your thoughts?'
Someone tapped on the door. Paula reacted swiftly. Standing up, she vanished into the sleeping area. Before she went she whispered, 'Don't want to give anyone the wrong idea. You know how people are.. .'
As Tweed approached the door, his right hand slipped into his pocket, gripped the Walther automatic. Before using his left hand to remove the chain and unlock the door quietly, he stood by the wall on the opening side, grasped the handle, flung open the door. Mark Wendover stood outside, holding a large manila envelope.
'Come in, Mark.'
'I knocked on your door earlier but you were out,' explained Mark as Tweed re-locked the door.
'I was out. What can I do for you?'
'I thought you should have this urgently.' Mark handed him the envelope. 'It's the blue leather-bound book I took from the lock-box at the Zurcher Kredit.'
'Thank you. That was very good of you.'
Tweed placed the envelope on the desk. Then he turned round and faced Mark.
'Are you sure no one saw you enter or leave the bank?'
'Yes. The street was deserted on both occasions. I was very careful. They have an advanced alarm system but we have the best in the world in the States. I neutralized every one.'
'What about video cameras?'
'I took in with me several children's water pistols. But instead of water they were filled with a certain substance I squirted at each camera. It blots out the lens completely.'
'What about guards?'
'Three of them.' Mark grinned. 'I passed the control room. They were sitting watching a boxing match on TV. Hadn't even noticed their screens had gone blank.'
'You sound confident,' Tweed said sceptically.
'Not confident. Cautious. Friggin' cautious all the time I was inside.'
'Sounds as though you're safe. Better get to bed now…'
Paula reappeared after Mark had left, sat in the same chair. She stared at the Walther Tweed had put on the desk when Mark had gone.
'You're not taking any chances, are you?'
'This is possibly the most dangerous assignment we've ever undertaken. Now, a brief recap. It started in Alfriston when we investigated the murder of Jeremy Mordaunt…'
'You've missed something. Before that we had dinner with Lord Barford – and he's turned up in this hotel.
