CHAPTER 26
Tweed had just returned to his suite with Paula and Newman when someone hammered on the door non- stop. Newman waved the other two back, approached the door with the Smith amp; Wesson by his side. He opened the door a few inches, then wide.
Pete Nield walked in. He was his normal cool self but Tweed noticed he was fingering his small moustache. That, added to the urgent hammering, told him Nield was excited.
'Take a seat, Pete,' Tweed suggested. 'Relax.'
'Like a glass of nice cold water?' Paula asked him.
'Thanks. Yes, I would. I'm dry as the Sahara.'
He drank the whole glass in two swallows, accepted a refill. He leant back against the couch and grinned.
'I have a little news to report.'
'Now why did I get that idea?' Tweed chaffed him.
'Gavin Thunder has arrived in Hamburg. He's staying at the Atlantic.'
There was a short silence. Newman folded his arms, standing up. Paula sat on a couch, curled her legs underneath her, whistled.
'In a double-length stretch limo,' she said. 'With a flare of trumpets and a band playing.'
'Don't you believe it,' Nield told her. 'He sneaked in like a thief in the night. Comes in an ordinary taxi. Must have paid the driver as the cab was nearing the hotel. Leaves the porter to get his bag, hustles up the steps and he's out of sight.'
'Sure it was him?' queried Newman.
'Bet my pension on it. I was parked in the Opel not far from the hotel entrance. But far enough back to use binoculars. It was him. I've seen him often enough blasting away at an interviewer on TV. Now I'd better get back there – see who else turns up.'
'You've done well,' Tweed said. 'Yes, go back, keep checking.'
'Well, that's some development,' Paula commented.
'The eagles gather,' Tweed said, half to himself, standing on the balcony, gazing into space.
Less than a minute later there was a gentle tapping on the door. When Newman opened it Lisa walked in very quickly. She was holding a folded sheet of paper in her hand.
'You'll never guess what I found slipped under my door. It could have been there a little while. I spent ages in the shower. Here it is.'
She handed Tweed the piece of paper. He unfolded it, took his time studying it. Nothing in his face showed what his reaction was to the contents. They were typed.
Drive to Flensburg tomorrow. You will find important information waiting for you there. Very urgent. Lisa.
He handed it to Paula. While she was reading it Lisa was walking back and forth, couldn't keep still.
'The only thing wrong with that message,' she said, 'is I didn't write it. So why has someone put my name on it?'
'Maybe because the sender doesn't like you,' Tweed suggested. 'But the interesting point is it was typed on the same machine as the earlier message inviting us to assemble at the Turm. The letter 'i' jumps on both typed messages.'
'It's a trap,' said Paula, who had handed the paper to Newman.
'Oh, it's a trap all right.' agreed Tweed as he took a map from a drawer. 'If I remember from a trip I made quite a few years ago, the direct route up through Schleswig-Holstein is along autobahn No. 7. Yes, I'm right, it is. And, I have a good memory for routes I've driven along in the past. I can see a lot of it in my mind. The A7 to Flensburg is a very lonely route. Mile upon mile of farmland and nothing else except for the odd dwelling all on its own.'
'Ideal country for an ambush,' Newman observed.
'It is that. But that could be turned to our advantage.'
'You do believe,' Lisa began nervously, 'that message is nothing to do with me?'
'Of course we do,' Tweed said with a smile.
'Then I think I'll go back to my room. I threw on clothes to bring that to you. I need to get dressed properly.' She hesitated. 'I can have dinner with you tonight?'
'Let's make sure nothing else develops. Keep in touch…'
Paula, again on a couch with her legs curled under her, was trying to make up her mind. I can't keep this back any longer., she decided.
'Now Lisa's gone I have something you ought to know…'
They listened in silence as she described her visit to Lisa's room, how she had answered the phone. The voice which had said 'Oskar' before she had broken the connection.
'And,' she concluded, 'while she was here we let slip the idea that maybe we could plan an ambush.'
Tuts a different complexion on a lot of things,' Newman commented grimly. 'We have a spy who knows too much about us.'
The huge underground room, beneath an unoccupied warehouse and alongside the river Elbe, had twenty men of varying nationalities assembled. It was a bleak chamber with an ancient roof constructed of giant beams. The floor was paved with old stones, the sound of seeping water added to the unsettling atmosphere. The water was trickling in between gaps in a massive stone wall which looked as though it had stood there for a hundred years. An uneasy feeling was apparent among the villainous occupants. Perched on a heavy wooden crate Delgado watched them, keeping them in suspense deliberately. Barton broke the eerie silence.
'Don't like this place. Supposing that wall breaks?'
'We drown.'
Delgado grinned wolfishly as he saw Barton's expression. As a method of controlling his brutal gang he was enjoying it. Despite their weird appearance – Slovaks, Croats and men from other parts of the world most Westerners had never heard of – they had all been well trained in the use of weapons. All had been given large sums of money and promised more when they had accomplished the massacre.
'Tomorrow,' Delgado said, 'we do it. Here.'
He pointed with a long thick finger to the map of Schleswig-Holstein pinned to a blackboard beside him. He was pointing to the autobahn which eventually led to Flensburg. Then he glared at Barton and Panko.
'You have the trucks?'
He was referring to four Discovery Land Rovers, vehicles capable of traversing almost any kind of territory.
'They're in the garage you hired,' Barton said sullenly.
'How we know they go up autobahn?' demanded the frisky Panko.
'Is quickest way. They will go.'
'What do we do to them?' Barton asked. 'Like the Turm?'
He was being sarcastic, recalling the fiasco. Delgado could have smashed his face in. He breathed heavily and then told them.
'We kill all Tweed men. Kill. Kill. Kill. OK?'
There was a growl of approval from the men assembled below him, a growl like that of predatory animals. Several raised their hands in a clawlike gesture.
'What wrong with you. Barton?' Delgado demanded, glaring at his target.
'People outside may hear us.'
'You think this?' Delgado gave his wolfish grin again. 'I ask you, clever Barton. You hear ships' sirens?'
'No.'
'Beyond that wall river Elbe. Ships moving all time. Using sirens. You do not hear? They do not hear us. Idiot!'
Delgado paused. 'Now, tomorrow, this we do…'
It was evening when Tweed summoned Marler, Butler and Nield to his suite where they joined Paula and Newman. In his shirt sleeves with the windows wide open, Tweed had the map of Schleswig-Holstein spread out on
