'She checks out OK,' she told Tweed. 'The only place which I couldn't check was New York – not knowing the name of the security agency she worked for.'
'I'm amazed at how quick you've been. Don't know how you do it.'
'By getting on with it, talking fast. Take care…'
'We'll get out of here now,' Tweed decided. 'It's like a steam bath. Go for a walk by the Alster.'
They had just left the hotel steps behind when Tweed spotted an Opel parked just beyond the entrance, on the Alster side. Butler was in the passenger seat with Nield behind the wheel. His two subordinates reacted sensibly. Instead of getting out to meet him they stayed in the car.
Tweed glanced up and down the street, saw no one suspicious. They crossed, strolled along the pavement by the lake. It seemed hotter than in the suite. Tweed could feel sweat running down inside his shirt. When they reached the Opel he opened the rear door, climbed inside, followed by Newman.
'I have news I was bringing you,' Nield announced. 'I was going to call you on the mobile, code it. I can now tell you Oskar Vernon has moved to the other five-star hotel, the Atlantic, facing the Aussenalster.'
'Now why would he do that?' Newman wondered.
'Let's go for that walk,' Tweed suggested.
'I'll come with you,' Nield said firmly. 'Trail you.'
'Don't do that. Walk with us. I'll bring you up to date on recent developments.'
'I'll stay with the car,' Butler said as they were alighting. 'Oh, Otto Kuhlmann told me he was having copies made of the Oskar pic. Distributing them to officers all over Hamburg.'
'Which is what I hoped for,' Tweed told him. 'Now we have the whole might of the police on our side.'
'Just before you go,' Harry continued, 'he said it would be a careful surveillance. No one must approach Oskar.'
'Better and better…'
They walked along a mostly deserted pavement, Tweed in the middle with Newman and Nield on either side. If you could stand the heat it was a glorious summer's afternoon. A clear blue sky, ferries hustling back and forth, rippling the glass-like calm of the water. Trees in full leaf lined the walk above them. They came to a bridge and Tweed led them across a road, then down a curving footpath and along a tunnel leading to a park alongside the Alster.
'So. that's how ferries pass into the big lake,' Nield remarked. 'I hadn't been able to work it out. They go under the road bridge.. .'
'Which is also a separate rail bridge. Bob, we've been riding round in two cream Mercs. Stretch limos at that.'
'I didn't know how many of us would be travelling in them.'
'But Oskar saw them, parked near the Turm. So I want you to return one cream limo, then hire a blue version. Park it in the nearest underground garage. We continue to use only the cream job.'
'No point in asking why?'
'Forward planning, I think the military call it. Or used to.'
'You still haven't answered my question about why Vernon's moved to the Atlantic.'
'He's very smart, so very dangerous. So just when someone is sure they've located him he whisks off elsewhere.'
They continued walking along the shore path. A large woman in a floral dress and with blue-rinse hair bent down as she fed some ducks. Her glasses had thick lenses and when she looked up she stared at Tweed, went on staring. Then her thin mouth smiled at him.
'Glorious day,' Tweed said to her.
'Pure paradise.'
Her English had a foreign accent. Newman looked back but she was concentrating on her ducks. He frowned.
'That woman was studying you,' he said.
'Not my type,' Tweed responded jovially.
'No, she really was,' Newman insisted. 'And she noticed the bulge of that Walther you transferred to your trouser pocket.'
'Just a local.' Tweed had earlier removed his jacket and carried it. Under his armpits were damp circles. 'You see the enemy everywhere. Don't get paranoid.'
'Bob could be right,' Nield interjected. 'Before we got there I saw her get out of a car on the road, then she scuttled across to where we met her.'
After only a few minutes Tweed suggested they turned back. He had the appointment with the Brig for drinks. When they reached the point where the large woman had been feeding ducks she had gone. Nield glanced across at the road between the trees. Her car had also gone. Newman bent down, retrieved a brown paper bag full of broken bread.
'Floral Dress didn't stay long after she'd given you die once-over. And this bag is still full of bread.'
'Well, we're not feeding ducks.'
'Don't you see?' Newman was annoyed. 'She saw us earlier when we were leaving the hotel, watched us, then drove ahead so she'd intercept us. Now she'll know you on another occasion. And these days women use guns. Not only Paula…'
Before meeting the Brig, Tweed dashed up to his suite, took off his clothes, had a shower, put on a fresh suit, gave the spoilt one to a porter he'd summoned and asked for it to be cleaned.
He had ten minutes left before the 1800 hours deadline. He picked up the phone on the second ring. It was Kuhlmann, in a towering rage.
'What's happened, Otto?'
'The grapevine tells me that Mr Blue murdered Jason Schulz in Washington weeks ago, tried to make it look like suicide. Then he kills Jeremy Mordaunt down in Sussex. Next M. Bleu, as the French call him, murdered Louis Lospin in Paris. Ditto suicide. All these men were close aides, confidants, to powerful people in their respective governments…'
'Slow down, Otto. You're not driving the 1C train…'
'Now!' Kuhlmann rasped. 'Herr Blau has murdered Kurt Kruger in Berlin this morning. Clumsy attempt to make it look like suicide again. Revolver clamped in his fingers, in a manner no one would hold a gun and fire it…'
'Hold on. Who is – or was – Kurt Kruger?'
'Only chief aide and closest consultant to the Deputy Chancellor. Travelled all over the globe at the behest of his master.'
'In Berlin, you said. Whereabouts?'
'In the Zoo Garden – Zoologischer Garten. A quiet day due to the heat, the stink of animals. Kruger, married, met his girlfriend there in a secluded spot. Found slumped at the foot of a tree.'
'Like Jason Schulz – in a park. Did Kruger meet his girlfriend there regularly?'
'We think he did. The girl's as much as admitted it.'
'So Herr Blau could have followed him over a period to make sure Kruger kept to his routine?'
'Ja! I mean yes. All hell has broken loose. They want me to go to Berlin. I've refused, appointed a top detective to be in charge of the investigation.'
'Any leads at all?' Tweed asked.
'Not a sausage.' Kuhlmann was proud of his command of idiomatic English. 'Herr Blau is a very careful killer. I've checked with informants in the underworld. What gets me is he doesn't seem to be an assassin for hire. Just chooses his own targets. Which I find very strange.'
'Very strange. It could be the key to his actions.'
'Go on. Tell me.'
'I've got to think it out first.'
'Thanks a lot…'
Tweed arrived in the bar on the dot. The Brig was seated behind a small table in a corner: Tweed almost expected him to check a stopwatch. To his surprise the Brig was clad in a German jacket, German slacks and a German shirt open at the collar, exposing his bull-like neck.
'Two double Scotches. On the double,' his host barked at the barman.
