The Power (47 page)

'Why on earth should there be?'

'Just a thought. When are you leaving for Colmar?'

'Haven't made up my mind.'

'Where is Squire Gaunt at this moment?'

'No idea.' She emptied her glass. 'He comes and goes.
I'm not his keeper- if I can put it that way.' She played with his sleeve. 'He's just an acquaintance - if you were thinking
some thing else.'

'Never crossed my mind,' Tweed lied.

The orange mousse with Grand Marnier they had
chosen was as mouth-watering as their grilled sole. Tweed
was puzzled. Eve seemed so poised and interested in him.
When she had finished her mousse she carefully wiped her
full lips with a tissue and swung round in her chair to face
him. Her jacket was open and the movement drew atten
tion to her well-shaped breasts protruding against the
white blouse. She plucked at his sleeve again.

'Why don't we have coffee upstairs in my room? It will
be quieter there. And I would like to hear how you got on with Julius. He was, after all, my husband.. Please excuse
me for a moment. The
powder room ...'

As she left the restaurant Tweed glanced across at the
table where Paula sat with Newman. Paula was watching
him with a half-smile, roguish. She beckoned to him, got
up to meet him.

'Something fascinating you must see. There's a really
weird ferry which keeps crossing the Rhine.' She led him
to an end window. 'It's like a gondola. Bob says it's
controlled by a wire running from
the ferry to a cable
which spans the river. There it is
...'

In some ways the very small ferry did resemble a gon
dola. The stern half was roofed over with the for'ard part open to the elements. A strong current was running as it
made its slow way across from the opposite bank. The
craft was swaying in a brisk breeze and inwardly Tweed winced. His mind flashed back to the ferry from Padstow
to Rock, the large powerboat .which had attempted to
overturn them, Cardon lobbing his grenade. They
watched it until it reached the side.

It carried a single passenger. A large man with his back
to them. He wore a deerstalker.

'A curious contraption, that ferry,' Tweed commented.

'Your lady friend awaits,' Paula mocked him.

'I've just had a message that I have to go somewhere,'
Tweed explained to Eve as they left the dining-room.

She looked at her watch, glanced at the reception
clock.

'My watch is fifteen minutes slow. No wonder I nearly
missed my flight at Zurich. There you go. A Swiss watch.
It must have been slow for days .. .' She hesitated. Tweed
thought she'd been going to say more, had changed her
mind. 'Oh ...' she said.

She was staring at the revolving entrance doors. A man
in a deerstalker had just entered the lobby from outside.

'Ah! So we meet again,' a familiar voice boomed.
'What about drinks in the bar? My round .. .'

Squire Gaunt had arrived.

Marvin Mencken, his expression unpleasant - because he
had failed again - hurried out of the Hilton Hotel in Basle
to call Norton from a phone box in the station. He only
had a number - a Basle phone number. Norton never
gave him an address, the cunning bastard.

A bitter east wind blew through the large Bahnhof as
he found the nearest phone. He took a deep breath,
dialled.

'Who is it?' the abrasive voice at the other end
demanded.

'Mencken here. The large team which flew with me from Zurich is in place. We've hired transport.. .'

'And botched up everything on the train. I saw them
unloading the useless cargo. You really must get your act
together this time,' Norton said in a dangerously soft
tone.

'Sure thing
...'

There don't seem to be any sure things. Listen. Tweed
is at the Drei Könige down by the river. The profile of
him says he likes fresh air, taking a walk. So this time you
eliminate the competition. Or your head is on the block.
Shut up and listen, damn you! This is what you do ...'

This conversation, which involved the killing of Tweed,
took place while the target was finishing lunch at the Drei
Könige.

'Thank you,' Tweed said to Gaunt, 'but we have an
urgent appointment.' He looked round at Paula and Newman who came closer, then lowered his voice to
speak to Eve. 'I appreciate your invitation to join you for
coffee. But seeing the time when you looked at your
watch made me realize I
was behind schedule. Another
time?'

'Yes, please,' Eve said in a whisper. She ran a hand
through her hair slowly, her eyes half-closed as she
stared
at him. 'I get so lonely.'

'I do understand. There is always another time,' Tweed assured her.

Paula and Newman collected their coats from the concierge who then helped Tweed put on his heavy overcoat. As they went outside and Tweed turned right Paula asked
her question.

'What appointment? Or was she moving in too close for
comfort?'

'An appointment with a walk so I can think. We could be
close to discovering something important - even the key to
the mystery.'

As they walked uphill and along the deserted street
called Blumenrain Tweed told them about his conversation with Cord Dillon. They passed a short side-street which, Newman pointed out, led to the landing point for the strange little ferry shuttling back and forth across the Rhine. Another narrow street of ancient buildings continued on parallel to the river. Totentanz. Tweed stopped briefly in the piercing wind to look at the different dates. 1215.1195.1175.

'One of the oldest cities in Europe,' he commented.

'It's early Middle Ages,' Paula added.

The wind dropped suddenly and it became very silent
and still. Paula's mood changed to one of premonition.
The narrow street was still deserted - they were the only
people walking in the silence.

The ancient stone houses were tall and slim, all joined
together to form an endless wall. Each house had a heavy
wooden door flush with the wall and she had the feeling no
one lived there. The old pavement was very narrow, so
narrow they moved in single file.

Tweed, hands deep inside his coat pockets, shoulders
hunched against the cold, was in front. Paula followed on his heels while Newman brought up the rear. It was like a
city abandoned by the inhabitants who had fled from the plague. Creepy.

The sun had vanished. The sky was a low ceiling of grey
clouds which suggested snow. It did nothing to dispel
Paula's premonition of imminent doom. Do pull yourself
together, she thought. At that moment she heard the car
coming ahead of them, the first vehicle they'd seen since
starting out on their walk. It's the time of day, she
reassured herself - mid-afternoon in March and most
people inside offices at work
...

Tweed had stopped, put out a hand to grasp her arm as he searched desperately for a protective alcove to thrust
her into. Newman had no time to whip out his Smith & Wesson. Racing towards them on the opposite side of the
street was a large grey Volvo. The driver wore a helmet
and goggles. Newman had a glimpse of other men inside
the car as it swerved across towards them, mounted their pavement, hurtled forward like a torpedo.

Nowhere to run. They were hemmed in by the wall of
houses. It was going to mow them down, drive on over their bodies. Tweed grasped Paula round the waist, pre
pared to try and throw her out of the way across the street.
He doubted whether he'd manage it. The Volvo was
almost on top of them. The driver wearing the sinister goggles accelerated. They were dead.

The white Mercedes appeared out of nowhere,
rocketing down the street from the same direction the
Volvo had appeared. It drew alongside the Volvo. The driver swung his wheel over, his brakes screeched as he stopped just before he hit the wall.

The Volvo, unable to stop, slammed into the side of the
Mercedes. Four uniformed policemen, guns in their hands,
left the Mercedes as it rocked under the impact. As three of
them leapt to the doors of the Volvo, guns aimed, the
fourth man waved as he grinned at Tweed, waved again for him to go away.

'Back to the Drei Könige,' Tweed said, his arm round
Paula, who was shaking like a leaf in the wind.

29

In a state of shock, no one spoke until the Drei Könige
came into sight. Tweed was the first to recover.
He glanced
at Paula. The colour had returned to her face. They could
talk now.

'That was Beck who saved us,' he said. 'He told me he
was carrying out a sweep of the whole city.'

'But it was sheer luck that unmarked police car turned up in the nick of time,' Newman objected.

'Organized luck. Don't stare at him,' Tweed warned,
'but see that man standing near the bridge over the Rhine?
Note he's carrying a walkie-talkie by his side, that from
where he's standing he would see us
leaving the hotel. He
was standing there when we started out on our walk.
Obviously he radioed to Beck at HQ. So now the question
is - who signalled to the opposition that we were staying here, maybe even reported when we were leaving for the
stroll?'

Pushing his way through the revolving door, he noticed
the concierge had gone off duty. A girl he had not seen
before was on duty behind the counter. He leaned on the
counter as he asked for the key, waited until she handed it
to him.

'You have an English friend of mine staying here - or
you will have. Has he arrived yet? A Mr Gregory Gaunt?'

'Oh yes, sir. Mr Gaunt checked in early this morning.
Do you want me to see if he's in his room now?'

'Don't bother him, thank you. I'm going up to have a
rest. I'll surprise him at dinner.'

'So Gaunt has been here for quite several hours,'
Tweed remarked as they entered the elevator.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon in Basle when Tweed narrowly escaped with his life.

In Washington it was nine o'clock in the morning.
Bradford March had a black stubble all over his jaw and
upper lip. Which told Sara Maranoff that neither Ms
Hamilton nor any other attractive woman would be visiting the President in the Oval Office today.

When she had bad news she always tried to tell March in the morning. He was fresher then and less inclined to react viciously. Standing by the window, March glanced
at her, scratched with his thumbnail at his stubble. He had
guessed from her expression that something he didn't
want to hear was coming.