now?' She was annoyed. 'Give me a cigarette.'
He took out his packet, held it out. Then he leaned forward, lit the cigarette for her. She thanked him, sitting stiffly erect, taking several deep drags, then carefully tipping the ash into a crystal glass ashtray. He kept quiet until she had stubbed out the cigarette, leant back against the couch cushion, her chest heaving. She folded her arms.
'What crisis?' he asked quietly.
'The big one… the one that's going to blow up in our faces out of nowhere.' She was talking rapidly. 'The one you should be making preparations for… although, knowing you, I expect you've already made them.'
He was having to concentrate to follow her. He wondered if she'd take off again if he, once more, asked her where she had been. He decided she would. She seemed to read his mind.
'When I realized I wasn't included in the party I hit the town. Oh, you're probably wondering how I knew you'd gone out to dinner.' Which was exactly what Tweed had been wondering. 'I saw Newman further down the corridor when I was coming out of my room. He was standing in front of a wall mirror, brand new suit, fresh shirt, new hand-made shoes, fiddling with his Chanel tie to get it just right. Going out to dinner, I thought. Why didn't Tweed warn me, I thought. Because I'm not included on the menu.'
'Well, you know why you weren't included now.' He spoke quietly. 'I agree we might be close to a major crisis, but what gave you that idea?'
'Sixth sense,' she snapped.
'You can, I suspect, do better than that.'
'Lisa,' she said, 'he says do better than that. OK, I will.' She half-smiled at him. 'I trawled the Reeperbahn – don't look like that. Wait till I'm finished. I used taxis to move from one bar to another
…'
'In that outfit?' he asked in a worried tone.
'Just watch me.'
From her small evening bag she took out several hairpins. She lifted her red mane, coiled it on top of her head and held it diere with die pins. She picked up the scarf she'd carried in, now spread over a couch arm, wrapped it round her head, tied it under her chin. The next item from the evening bag was a pair of large spectacles with thin horn-rims. She perched them on the bridge of her nose. Finally she took out a very small metal case, extracted a slim cigar, placed it in her mouth. She was unrecognizable and none too attractive.
'Well?' she said.
'I'm amazed. I suppose you learned tricks like that when working for the security agency in New York.'
'Right on the button, Mister.'
Her accent was convincingly American. Tweed waved both his hands in admiration.
'I got lucky,' she said, after removing the cigar, 'in the sixth bar. I'd left my drinks hardly touched in the other bars. In the last bar I found myself sitting next to Blue Shin, Pink Shirt, whatever
'He's been identified as Oskar Vernon, now staying at the five-star Atlantic facing the Aussenalster.*
'Now he tells me.' She smiled. 'Oskar, then, was whispering to my old friend, Barton, last seen in Bedford Square while I was with my friend, the tramp. I have very acute hearing. Oskar said, 'We're going to have a bloodbath with that bastard Tweed and his whole team. Wipe them off the face of die earth. Soon now. We just have to trick them, get them well outside Hamburg. I've worked out how we do it.' Having heard that, I thought I'd better make myself scarce. Oh, Oskar was wearing a violet shirt. Hideous.'
'So now we know.'
She reached for her half-empty glass of Scotch, put it down untouched. She pulled the scarf off her head, dropped it on the floor, removed the spectacles which had made her look like a schoolmistress. She looked as though she had squeezed the last drop of energy out of herself. She swayed. Tweed grabbed her by the shoulder. She closed her eyes, opened them again with an effort.
'I'm flaked out,' she said hoarsely. 'Can't move my legs. Sleep. I need sleep. For a week…'
She swayed again. She was half asleep already. He moved to the end of the couch. He just had time to grab a cushion, lay it on his lap, before her head fell on it. Leaning forward, he got hold of her legs under the knees, spread them along the couch. She half opened her greenish eyes, looked up at him.
'Thanks,' she mumbled. 'I know poor Mark is dead. Saw his body on the pavement when I got back…'
Then she fell into a deep sleep. Tweed understood now her erratic moods. The sight of Mark, half his head shot away, had shaken her up badly, accounted for her swift changes of emotion. He leaned back against the high end of the couch and fell fast asleep.
He woke in the morning to find her still fast asleep, her head in his lap. Daylight filtered through the closed curtains. His back felt stiff as a board but he had slept non-stop. He couldn't move without disturbing her so he stayed still until, after a few minutes, she opened her eyes, stared at him, smiled. Lifting her head, she sat up, planted her legs on the floor.
'A shower,' she said, suppressing a yawn. 'My kingdom for a shower.'
Tweed pointed to the bathroom, told her to take her time, that he'd have a shower when she had gone.
I'll order breakfast for us from room service,' he called out.
'But won't they think…'
'Who the hell cares what they think? What do you fancy for breakfast?'
When she had gone into the bathroom, he ordered orange juice, coffee, toast, scrambled eggs and tomato, croissants, marmalade for two people. Then he tidied himself up, checked in a wall mirror, decided he wouldn't have time for a shave but he didn't look too bad.
'Bathroom's yours,' she said, emerging more quickly than he'd expected.
She was wearing a white flannel robe she'd found in the bathroom and looked herself again. She smiled at him.
'Excuse the robe. I do have the dress on underneath.'
'I'd better hurry. Breakfast will come soon…'
During the first part of breakfast they didn't say much to each other. Lisa had said she was ravenous. Then Tweed, keeping off serious subjects, described to her the Aussen – or Outer – Alster. How the ferries zigzagged across it, moving from one landing stage to another, picking up and dropping off passengers. How, at the extreme distant end, it narrowed into little more than a wide stream with willows drooping into the water with small parks behind them.
'Sounds heavenly,' she said, watching him.
'We ought to take a trip sometime,' he suggested.
'I'd love to. Sounds so peaceful -you described it in such a graphic way. I think I'll get back to my room now.'
She returned the robe to the bathroom, straightened her creased dress, went to the door, looked back.
'Am I still on the team?'
'You were never off it.'
CHAPTER 24
Paula tapped on Lisa's door. She heard it being unlocked and approved of the caution. Lisa opened the door, looked pleased, invited her in.
'My face is a mess,' she explained. 'Do sit down while I try to make it look half decent.'
'You look OK,' Paula replied as she sat down next to the table with the phone.
'Don't feel it.'
'You have heard,' Paula began tentatively.
'About Mark being shot last night? Horrible, isn't it? I saw him on the pavement. I must have got back just after he had been killed. I felt sick.'
The phone rang. Lisa asked Paula to see who it was so she could finish her renovation. Paula picked it up, was about to ask who it was when a creepy voice spoke.
'Oskar here. I have news…'
