And that was when Lisa Trent first appeared on the scene.'
'You're right. I got that out of sequence. And Lisa also is staying in this hotel. Going on to Alfriston, Bogle tried to say it was suicide – an idea put into his head by Gavin Thunder. Sergeant Pole tells us about the Invisible Man
– Rondel. We visit Eagle's Nest, Rondel's weird house, see a communications mast raised above the chimney. We return to Park Crescent…'
'After a bullet has been fired through the windscreen, aimed at you.'
'True. Mark Wendover arrives, goes off, does his own thing.'
'Just as he's done at the Zurcher Rredit here.'
'Let me go on. I see Gavin Thunder, who accepted Mordaunt was murdered. Albeit reluctantly. Lisa's sister, Helga, is shot dead. Target was probably Lisa herself…'
'And you still don't trust her.'
'Really?' Tweed looked surprised. 'I thought you didn't.'
'I'd forgotten about Helga.'
'Doesn't prove anything…'
'She gave us the list of targets the rioters would hit -and she was right,' Paula reminded him.
'Might have been another confidence-building exercise
– so she could infiltrate the SIS. Our opponent – whoever it is – has audacity. Now we come to the guts. Newman hears rumours of a highly secret meeting to take place somewhere in the Bahamas…'
'Which now looks more like the island of Sylt, according to Kuhlmann,' Paula interjected.
'I think,' Tweed said decisively, 'three factors are keys to what is going on. One, the huge amount of money which is disappearing from the Zurcher Kredit. Keith did say billions of marks. Two, this absolutely top secret meeting of very powerful men somewhere in the world. Three, who is running this show? Finally, I'm still convinced two tremendous forces are arrayed against each other. Trouble is, I don't know who belongs to which one. But I'm sure one is good and the other is evil.'
Paula put a hand to her mouth, suppressing a yawn. Tweed, who had taken his doodle pad from a drawer, noticed it, of course.
'I really think you ought to get to bed, leave me to it. I think you could sleep now.'
'I think I could.' She stood up. 'They are all mysterious characters. Gavin Thunder, Lisa, Rondel, Lord Barford. I even wonder about Mark Wendover sometimes.'
'Get to bed.'
'And,' she persisted, 'really it all started with the murder of Jason Schulz in Washington – to say nothing about the murder of Louis Lospin in Paris.'
'Do go to bed.'
She flip-flopped in her slippers towards the sleeping area, then turned round.
'And don't forget the Internet glitch that scared the wits out of Monica when the screen went crazy. And the phones went dead at the same time.'
'What do you mean?' He grunted. 'Monica was phoning all the world to see if the same thing happened.'
'That was later. She told me that when she picked up the phone after the glitch stopped it was dead for at least two minutes. I thought the Internet worked off the phone lines. We've talked about this before.'
'If you say so,' he mumbled.
'And I keep thinking of that man in the elevator here who went up again when he saw us. I was closer to him. His eyes behind those gold-rimmed glasses. He radiated energy, will-power, personality.'
'For the last time, go to bed. What I want is to locate and meet Rhinoceros.'
CHAPTER 20
Tweed woke with a start. Not knowing the situation, he kept quite still, half-opened his eyes. Daylight was streaming into the suite. Someone had pulled back the curtains and he was lying on the couch, a cushion behind his head. He listened, heard nothing, got up.
He stretched, remembered that before he'd felt obliged to sprawl on the couch he'd taken off only his jacket and shoes. But he hadn't bothered to place a cushion behind his head. He recalled he had felt something underneath the cushion. Removing it he stared at his Walther, the papers and the blue book Mark had brought him. He'd been so tired he hadn't put them there.
'Paula,' he called out. 'I'm awake.'
No reply. Cautiously, he peered between the curtains into the sleeping area. No Paula. Rubbing the back of his neck he saw two envelopes on the carpet, obviously pushed under the door from the outside. He tried the door. It was locked. Bending down, he retrieved the two envelopes.
One had the hotel name on the outside. He opened it. The room key. Of course, Paula had woken before him, had gone back to her room, not forgetting the precaution of locking his door, then pushing the key under it. He opened the second envelope, a stiff, plain white affair. He read the message inside.
Meet me at the Turm for coffee – and information. Turm, Lagerstrasse 2-8. Lisa.
He frowned. 'Lisa' was also typed, not signed in her hand.
He thought about it after checking the time – 8 am -and while he bathed, shaved and dressed in another suit. He put the note in one pocket, the Walther in another. Going down in the elevator he asked for a safety deposit – he almost said lock-box – and when he had signed the form, a male member of the staff accompanied him up a short flight of stairs.
Producing a key, the hotel man opened a door it would be easy not to notice. Once inside he closed the door which was automatically locked. He led Tweed into another room where the walls were lined with safety deposit boxes in varying sizes. He used his master key to turn the lock, invited Tweed to take his time and then vanished so his client had privacy.
Tweed turned the other key, took out the metal box, opened the lid. Inside he put Kefler's papers and Mark's niched blue book. Sliding it back, he turned his own key, then tried to open it again without using his key. He couldn't. The compartment automatically locked and could not be opened again without use of the master key. Excellent security.
He had also put in the box Lisa's envelope containing the 100,000 DM. He went into the breakfast room. There was quite a party at one table – Paula, Newman, Mark and Lisa. There was laughter, a jolly atmosphere of people enjoying themselves. Lisa wore a sleeveless pale green blouse, a white pleated skirt and trainers.
'Welcome to our working breakfast,' said Paula with a warm smile. 'Did you sleep well?'
'Like a man with no conscience,' Tweed replied as he sat in an empty chair, next to Lisa, facing Paula.
'Oh, come on,' Lisa chaffed him. 'You mean a man with nothing on his conscience.' She cocked her head. 'Or am I wrong?' she continued with a grin.
Tweed ordered his breakfast. Orange juice, coffee, toast and marmalade. He produced the note about the Turin, gave it to her.
'Did you slide this under the door of my room?'
'I damned well did not,' she replied indignantly after a swift perusal. 'What's going on? I had a note slipped under my door, too. Do read it.'
She produced a stiff white envelope, the replica of the one Tweed had received. The message was typed.
Go urgently to the main railway station. Wait in the small cafe. You will be approached by a man wearing a carnation in his buttonhole. Wait until he arrives.
'No signature,' he commented.
'Exactly,' she said. 'I decided not to cooperate. Now I'm wondering if someone was trying to get me out of the way so you couldn't check with me about your note.'
'My conclusion too.'
'Would you excuse me for a few minutes?' she asked. 'I have spilt coffee on my new skirt. Won't take me long to change.'
