hanging limply. Not even the hint of a breeze.
'Why five different flags?' Paula asked.
'Germany, Sweden, Norway, Denmark and Finland. I'll explain why when we're comfortable in the saloon. Let me escort you on board.'
He still had hold of her arm as they crossed a wide railed gangplank onto the deck. The crowd of passengers above them were peering down, probably wondering who the honoured guests were. Rondel opened a door and Paula walked into a luxurious saloon, empty except for a white-coated waiter.
The others followed her, the gangplank was hauled on board, mooring ropes removed, the steamer began to move up the outer reaches of the Trave. As Rondel was releasing her arm she glanced up at him. His skin was tanned darker than it had been in Hamburg. He wore a smart white jacket and trousers and a sailor's peaked cap. She thought he looked extraordinarily handsome.
She had a shock after the steamer left the quay and moved closer to the Baltic. Going over to a window she looked out at the last of Traverminde, at a tall white block of a hotel, the Maritim. Standing on the shore was a tall plump man wearing a straw hat. Oskar Vernon. He had a satisfied expression on his brown face. That was when she began to worry.
CHAPTER 40
Thunder, in his suite in Inselende, on the island of Sylt, was becoming angry. He had tried four times to call Barton without getting any response. In desperation he called Oskar on his mobile.
'Is that Oskar?'
'Yes.'
'What is your surname?'
'Oskar Vernon, for God's sake. I can recognize your voice so why can't you recognize mine?'
'All right, all right. Has anything happened to Tweed? I can't contact Barton.'
'You sound worried. Quite unnecessary. I saw him go aboard a ship with his whole team. The ship is sailing to an island far out in the Baltic. It will be his last voyage.'
'Are you sure?'
'No, I'm not sure.' Oskar paused, to let Thunder sweat. 'I am absolutely certain, positive. The world will never see him again. He will simply disappear.'
'You mean he will be dead?'
'How many ways do I have to explain it? He will be dead – kaput, as the Germans say. I can phrase it in French and Spanish, if you like.'
'That won't be necessary…'
Thunder closed the conversation. He wished that Oskar would show him more respect. But he felt like celebrating. He poured himself another large tot of brandy.
Inside the saloon aboard the steamer Paula was sitting on a leather sofa with its back to the beautiful panelled wall. She sat close to Tweed and they were on their own. As Tweed would have instructed, his team was spread out in the large saloon.
A distance away Lisa was talking animatedly to Nield. He seemed to hang on her every word. Newman was chatting to Butler and Rondel at the far end of the saloon. Marler, typically, sat by himself close to the door, gazing round, apparently idly.
'I saw Oskar on the quayside as we were leaving,' Paula said in a low voice. 'He looked very pleased with himself, as though everything was going according to plan. As I was turning away he even gave the steamer a little wave of his hand. I didn't like that.'
'Well, at least we know where he is. And he's not on the ship,' Tweed replied reassuringly.
Paula lapsed into silence. She had an awful feeling that they were trapped. She found it difficult to keep still. Getting up, she stared out of a window. Rondel joined her.
'When do we see Berg Island?' she enquired.
'Soon after we can no longer see the German shore. It is very distant now.'
'Can we see any shore from the island?'
'No. Perhaps I should explain to Tweed and yourself how Milo came to buy the island.'
He guided her back to the sofa where Tweed was sitting, placed himself between them. On tables there were the remains of sandwiches, coffee pots and cups, buckets of ice containing champagne bottles. Paula had eaten a few sandwiches and had drunk only water.
'Many years ago,' Rondel began, 'Berg Island was disputed, that is, its ownership, by Germany, Sweden, Denmark, Finland and even Norway. The trouble was, it is so far out it wasn't near the coastal waters of any of those nations. They just didn't want one of the others to have it. Milo heard about the dispute, visited each capital, put a plan to them. He suggested paying each of them just enough to make them feel agreeable. The island would pass into his hands. At their request, he agreed tourists could visit Berg – but only about a quarter of the island. And they would have to board the steamer at Travemunde. He even paid for the steamer – to give him more control. Hence the tourists who came with us.'
'How long does the agreement last?' asked Tweed.
'Until the end of next month. Then no more tourists and Berg is ours for ever.'
'Milo is clever,' Tweed commented. 'Do any shipping routes pass near here?'
'None.'
Rondel stood up, smiled down at Paula, asked her to come with him.
'Why?' she wanted to know.
'To see the island. Look out of the window. Germany is gone, can't be seen. Follow me.'
Tweed, although not invited, accompanied them. Rondel led them out into the enclosed corridor outside the saloon, walked a short way, turned into a passage crossing to the port side. He gestured towards a large window, stood back.
Paula gazed in awe. Less than half a mile away a mountain seemed to rise out of the placid sea. It was unexpectedly green and near the summit was p'erched a massive castle. Beside it and rising higher than the summit was a large square chimney-like structure of stone. As they came closer she saw palm trees and huge cacti. Nearby were large cones of glass.
'It looks like a tropical paradise,' she said dreamily. 'But how do tropical things survive the winter?'
'Milo's idea. Those cones of perspexhave heaters inside them. When the temperature drops the guards lift the cones and place them over the palms and cacti. Then we turn on the heaters.'
'The guards?' she queried, looking at him.
'Vandals occasionally try to come ashore. The guards have loaded rifles, fire over their heads.'
'Where do you get guards willing to live such a lonely life?'
'They're Slovaks. They know just enough English for us to give them orders. I'd better go – we'll soon be landing.'
'Paula,' Tweed said quietly when they were alone. 'You must always stay by my side from now on. Always.'
'This island worries you?'
'Just a precaution…'
When the steamer had berthed at a quay they had to wait as the tourists were escorted ashore. In several languages they heard Rondel giving them instructions. They must keep to the paths marked with arrows. On no account must they wander into areas marked Verboten.
He led them off the steamer up a flight of steps that ended at the face of the mountain wall, rising sheer up above them. Paula looked up and felt a twinge of vertigo. With a flourish Rondel showed them wide double doors let into the base of the cliff. He pressed four figures in a combination box. She watched carefully. The doors opened
