Paula put down the phone as though it were red hot. She was careful not to look at Lisa, who turned round on her dressing table seat.
'Was it Tweed again?'
'Wrong number.'
'Tweed rang me a few minutes ago to tell me you and Newman were going with him to a business meeting. Said he hoped you'd be back in a couple of hours. You know I'm still feeling ill about poor Mark. You don't look too good yourself.'
'I'm all right. I'd better go soon. I just called to see if you had heard – and if so how you were.'
Paula was in a state of shock. Why had Oskar Vernon -she felt sure it had to be him – phoned Lisa of all people? She let herself out, saying nothing in case her voice might betray her.
In the corridor the same small chunky uniformed hotel cleaner was still operating his vacuum cleaner. She noticed that the trousers he was wearing flopped over his shoes. His jacket wasn't a wonderful fit. She walked towards Tweed's suite.
'Good morning,' she said as she passed the cleaner.
He grunted, didn't look up. Which was unusual. She'd found all the staff so polite. Maybe he was new. She knocked on the suite door and Tweed, wearing a new business suit, a coat over his arm, ushered her inside.
'You won't need a coat this weather,' she told him. 'It's a boiling day outside already.'
'You're right. Can't think why I took it out of the wardrobe. Had my mind on something else.'
The death of Mark, she thought. Or, more likely, working out his strategy for the meeting with Rondel and his partner. She sat down, couldn't think of anything to say. Shouldn't she tell him about the weird phone call in Lisa's room?
'Lisa,' he said, 'has had a bad time of it. She actually saw Mark's body on the pavement when she got back to here. From Bob's description, when he visited the morgue, it must have shaken Lisa up badly.'
'I can understand that.'
She was still trying to decide whether to tell Tweed when Newman arrived. He smiled at her, squeezed her shoulder.
'I can do without any more grim shocks today. What are the tactics for this morning?'
'Leave me to do the talking,' Tweed replied. 'You two keep your eyes open. You might just see something interesting.' He looked at his watch. 'Time to go. Nield has told the porter to have the Merc ready for us – the cream one, of course.'
When they entered the corridor Paula noticed the man using the vacuum cleaner had disappeared, but half the carpet still needed attention. Tweed had gone ahead, turned to call to Paula.
'I'm having a brief word with Lisa, then Keith…'
He tapped on Lisa's door and stood half inside when she opened it. Paula heard every word that was said.
'Lisa, I'm off to a meeting with Paula and Bob. Expect to be back in about two and a half hours. I hope you can then join us for lunch. You can? Good.'
He hurried on to Keith Kent's door, beckoned Paula and Newman to come with him. A heavy-eyed Kent let them in. Paula thought he looked as though he'd had no sleep. His desktop was scattered with Kefler's papers and he had a small ledger open. The page was a jumble of figures. He took the blue book out of a drawer and it had a marker inside it.
'Didn't know who it was,' he explained. 'So I hid the book.'
'How is it going?' Tweed asked.
'I'm breaking it, but haven't got there yet. The blue book Mark provided is invaluable.'
It occurred to Paula that Kent didn't know Mark was dead. He was in his shirt sleeves and on another table was a tray of coffee, remnants of croissants. Tweed looked at it.
'When did you last eat a proper meal?'
'Can't remember. Been at it all night. It's absorbing.'
'Go down now and get a decent meal at the Condi,' Tweed told him.
'I can't leave these papers, even locked up…'
'Lisa could come and keep guard while you eat,' suggested Tweed.
'Lisa,' Paula said hastily, 'is fagged out. She told me,' she lied, 'she didn't get any sleep – probably after her long day yesterday.'
Tweed glanced at her, bewildered. There was nothing that he could say, that it would be wise to say. He looked back, saw Newman standing inside the closed door, turned to Keith.
'Any hint as to what you've found so far?'
'Oh, there's a ton of money missing. But whether it's still somewhere inside the bank or has been moved elsewhere I just can't fathom yet. Nor who is responsible for the movement. I'll crack it, but it may take a few more days.'
'Promise you'll phone room service, order a proper meal as soon as we've gone.'
'I'll do that. I've just realized I'm hungry..'.'
The cream stretch limo was waiting for them and Newman took the wheel. Paula sat beside him and Tweed rode in the back. Tweed had once visited Blankenese and navigated for them.
It didn't seem to take long for them to leave behind the massive, stately buildings which were Hamburg and then they were driving along a rustic road with trees in leaf. Paula gazed out and to each side they began to pass imposing mansions set back from the road with manicured lawns in front of them. The architecture varied enormously – there were mansions in the old style, square and solidly built, but others were more imaginative with long frontages, thatched roofs and strange turret-like towers. Each property, she guessed, would cost a fortune to buy.
'Marler and Nield are not far behind us in the Opel,' Newman remarked. 'Not a bad idea, maybe. It's rather lonely out here.'
'We're approaching the house,' Tweed warned from the back. 'I can see a sign ahead pointing to a side road. Taxusweg. Rondel scribbled that as a landmark when he gave me the address.'
Newman slowed, indicated right. A warning to Marler they were close. As he had anticipated, Marler turned down Taxusweg. To park discreetly, Newman guessed.
'This big house well back,' Tweed warned. 'Turn along the drive.'
Newman swung into the wide entrance, flanked by two pillars, each surmounted with an elegant lantern. The front garden was like a small park with lawns and beautiful specimen trees. But no electronically powered gates, Paula thought – and no sign of guards. You just drove in.
There were other lanterns perched on steel posts scattered amid the trees. This place must look even more glorious after dark with the lanterns lit, she mused. A large long mansion built of white stone came into view. Newman parked close to the main entrance, a pair of heavy oaken doors.
'Well,' said Tweed, before alighting. 'Let's hope here is where we find the key to what is really going on.'
Both doors were opened with a flourish by a tall uniformed chauffeur. A Daimler was parked near the corner of the mansion. Tweed studied the chauffeur intently. Not the usual chauffeur – even by the standards of those working for rich men. He had brown hair trimmed short, a strongly featured face, and was in his thirties, but it was the eyes that caught Tweed's attention. They were exceptionally intelligent, and the man moved athletically.
'Yes, I'm Tweed.'
'You are expected, sir,' the chauffeur replied in faultless English. 'If you would wait in the hall for just a few moments…'
Left to themselves in the spacious hall, Tweed noticed a Louis Vuitton case standing against a wall. He bent down. Someone had tucked in below the handle a Bordkane, or a boarding pass. Lufthansa. From BER to HAM. Dated the previous day. Someone had flown back from Berlin to Hamburg in the afternoon – on the day Kuhlmann had reported that Kurt Kruger, aide to the Deputy Chancellor, had been murdered.
Tweed was holding the pass in his hand when Rondel entered like a whirlwind, clad in riding gear.
'Welcome! Welcome! Welcome!'
He bowed, took Paula's right hand, kissed it, looked up at her with a broad smile. She found she rather liked a gesture she would not normally have found acceptable. Tweed held up the printed slip.
