Renaissance Hotel, Tweed froze. Instinctively Nield stood very still. Further down the street a single shaft of sunlight illuminated the outside of the hotel. Standing in the sunlight, arms folded, was Oskar Vernon. Paula stood close by.
He appeared to be gazing up at the building opposite while waiting for something – or somebody. What had caused Tweed to freeze, his nerves to tense, was the scene taking place. Vernon lowered his eyes, watched as a short wide-shouldered man scrabbled in a dustbin. Harry Butler was clad in a shabby jacket, torn denims, a tramp searching for treasure.
Tweed held his breath. Paula, wearing a straw hat pulled well down, was using a camera to photograph Vernon while Butler attracted his attention. Vernon had only to glance to his left to see her.
'Paula, you're taking too long. He's bound to turn and see you,' Tweed said to himself.
He sighed with relief as Paula vanished down an alley. At the same moment a porter came out of the Renaissance as a cab pulled up. Vernon climbed inside, gestured for the porter to give him the bag.
The next development was the appearance of a well-built man emerging from an arcade, just below the hotel on the opposite side of the street. He too wore a straw hat, wrapround dark glasses. Only the way he walked told Tweed it was Newman – so he'd escorted Paula on her mission as protection.
Tweed backed away from the corner as the taxi drove slowly towards them, edging its way past parked trucks and cars. Harry shoved an empty cigarette packet retrieved from the bin in his pocket, ambled rapidly up the street towards the landing stage.
'Pete,' Tweed said urgently, 'could you follow the cab coming up Grosse Bleichen?'
'Piece of cake…'
Nield streaked across the road where traffic was held up by a red light. He kept running until he was behind the wheel of his Opel. Which was when the cab with Vernon inside emerged, turned left past the landing stage, then right up Neuer Jungfernstieg and past the Four Seasons. Nield performed an illegal U-turn when a small white van drove behind the cab, masking him. Then he followed van and cab.
Tweed saw all this from inside the department store he had slipped into. He faced the street, appearing to study the window display. Once Nield's car had disappeared he went outside, turned down Grosse Bleichen, just in time to meet Paula hurrying towards him. Behind her Newman followed and Butler had stopped on the far side.
'You took one hell of a chance,' he chided her.
'Oh, shut up.' She was triumphant. 'I've got six shots of the bastard. Decided to use the small Polaroid-like camera the boffins at Park Crescent developed. Look at these.'
Tweed nipped through the six prints she handed him. His eyebrows rose. Leaning forward, he kissed her on the cheek.
'I expected more,' she said with a grin.
He leaned forward, kissed her on the other cheek. He gave Newman three of the prints, then gestured to Harry to come over. Butler had removed his disgusting jacket, rolled it up, tucked it under his arm. He now wore a linen jacket and, despite the torn denims, looked reasonably respectable.
'Harry, there's a police station on the far side of the Rathaus. Not easy to see…'
'I've seen it. While Pete's toured a bigger area in his car I've walked my feet off. Why the police station?'
'Because I want you to give these to Otto Kuhlmann.' He handed him two prints. Paula fiddled in her shoulder bag, brought out an envelope, took the prints, slipped them inside, wrote 'Otto Kuhlmann' on the outside, gave them back. 'No,' said Tweed, 'you hand them personally to Otto.'
'Heard you the first time.'
'You might have difficulty barging past inferiors.'
'Me?' Harry was indignant. 'You're joking. I'll trample over them
…'
Then he was gone, walking very fast towards the Rathaus.
As the three of them walked back towards the hotel Tweed held Paula's arm, squeezed it.
'You're brilliant.'
'I know. But it's nice to be told…'
They had walked slowly along the edge of the Alster. Tweed talked fast, bringing them up to speed on his interrogation of Lisa, then his phone call to Monica.
'I just wonder about Lisa,' he ruminated as they neared the hotel. 'Going out shopping…'
'I suppose she's allowed to do that,' Paula said indignantly.
'You remember I've just told you the one factor where I felt sure she was lying? When I asked her if she knew Mark before she came to us? Well, after she'd gone out I called Mark for about five minutes. He wasn't there.'
'Oh, I see. Casts a doubt over her. Can't we trust anyone? No. You warned us earlier. We can only trust the team. I told Bob about Oskar Vernon, what Kuhlmann said.'
'So now,' Newman remarked as they reached the hotel steps, 'Pink Shirt becomes Oskar Vernon. Which spells 'Danger' – with a capital
'D'.'
At the top of the steps the Brig appeared, obviously on his way to the coffee lounge.
'1800 hours,' Tweed called out. 'On the dot.'
The Brig paused, glared, opened his mouth, closed it again, as though uncertain how to reply to this sally. He nodded, proceeded towards the lounge.
'So whose side is he on?' Newman mused.
'No idea. Yet.'
The phone was ringing when they entered Tweed's suite. He grabbed hold of it.
'Otto here. Want to say a thousand thanks for the pics -the first we've ever had of him.'
'Thank Paula sometime. She took them under risky circumstances.'
'Give her my love…'
'Oh, there's one other thing,' Newman reported. 'When I took Kent along to his room he glanced at the papers and the blue book. Said it could take up to a week to sort out the financial position – and that the book would be a great help.'
Paula poured three glasses of water from a fresh carafe that had been put in the suite. She sat down, drank the whole of her glass.
'This heat is getting ferocious. The forecast says it will continue, but get hotter. I'm off to my room in a minute for a shower.'
'So what is the next move?' Newman enquired.
'I think I can read Oskar Vernon now,' said Tweed, pacing between the balcony and his desk. 'I got a good look at his face when we were up in the Turm. Saw his reaction to his men being bashed about. I think he'll try and get us well outside the city to wipe us out.'
'From what we did to his troops I shouldn't think he has many of them left,' Newman commented.
'Don't count on it,' Tweed warned. 'He'll have reinforcements – either already here or brought in. I predict a battle royal which will make this morning's episode look like a mild punch-up. An extermination attack this time.'
CHAPTER 22
Tweed and Newman were leaving the suite when the phone rang. It was Monica, reporting back on the results of her investigation of Lisa.
