This United State Part 22

The lobby was otherwise deserted. Whatever guests were in the hotel would be in the dining room. Marler walked through the revolving door first, stopped in the street, his eyes scanning in all directions. As Tweed, Paula and Newman followed him out he raised a hand to hold them back.

'Thought I saw a shadow disappear behind that corner.'

'Probably your imagination,' said Paula. 'Lord, it's icy cold. And mind your footing - the pavement is slippery.'

One of Basel's small green trams came into view. They heard its rumble as it disappeared, crossing the bridge. Tweed led the way, his hands in his pockets. The air hit them like a blow in the face. Their exposed skin began to freeze as soon as they left the hotel.

'We'll walk up almost to Market-platz,' Tweed told them. recall a phone box in a side street. Lucky I thought to bring plenty of Swiss coins with me.'

Once the rumble of the tram had died away a heavy silence fell. It reminded Paula of the silence of Romney Marsh when she had paused before reaching the Bunker. There was no one about anywhere. The street they were walking up was lined on both sides with old stone buildings. Paula felt hemmed in. She stopped suddenly.

'I can hear footsteps.'

'It's your imagination,' Marler said, repeating what she had said to him a few minutes before.

'Are you sure?' asked Tweed, who respected her acute hearing.

They had all stopped, between the glow of street lamps. She looked back, saw nothing. Marler shrugged impatiently.

'Can you hear them now?'

'No. They've stopped now we have.'

'I want to get to that phone,' Tweed said.

With Newman ahead of them, Paula and Tweed walked beside each other. Marler brought up the rear on his own. They reached the beginning of the large open market square with the Town Hall, elaborately decorated with the symbols of Swiss cantons, behind the huge open s.p.a.ce which was the Market-platz. Marler hitched up the strap of the canvas bag he was carrying higher up his shoulder. They walked a short distance and Marler glanced back again. But he was watching for shadows, not listening for footsteps.

'We turn up this side street,' Tweed told them. 'It's the start of a very ancient part of Basel. And there's my phone box.'

Going inside the gla.s.s box, he extracted coins from his pocket, then at the right moment pressed numbers to call Park Crescent.

'Monica, Tweed here. I'm calling from a public phone. More secure...'

'I'm so glad to hear from you. Happenings. The Bomb Squad checked a key telephone exchange, found two huge bombs, made them harmless. Same thing at Mount Pleasant sorting office. But another bomb had been placed inside a major Knightsbridge store. Blew the first and second floors to smithereens. At least fifty dead and many injured. The number of casualties is rising. That's it.'

'Thank you. I'll keep in touch.'

Outside the box he told the others what Monica had reported. Paula, particularly, was shocked. She stared at Tweed and had trouble getting the words out.

'When is this horror going to end?'

'When we've finished them off. Let's get back to the hotel. I am so cold I feel like a snowman.'

They had reached the end of the side street, had walked a few paces back the way they had come, when Marler held up a hand. He spoke very quickly.

'The Umbrella Men are back. Drop flat! Drop flat!'

Too close for comfort a cl.u.s.ter of four black umbrellas, held low so they concealed their owners, were advancing towards them. For a second Paula was hypnotized by the weird spectacle - the way the dark cones moved towards her, the rims just not touching each other, the umbrellas held quite still, not wavering an inch.

She dropped beside her three companions, who were already flat on the pavement. Fascinated, terrified, as though watching a macabre stage performance, she saw the four umbrellas elevate as one, with martial precision, exposing the four men beneath them. Each wore a dark overcoat, held their umbrellas with their left hands. Their right hands dipped inside canvas bags similar to Marler's, but larger. The hands emerged with astonis.h.i.+ng speed, holding machine-pistols. The barrels of the deadly weapons elevated, again as one, again with military precision, aiming at their targets lying on the pavement. Paula was struggling to extract her Browning, knowing it would be too late. She saw all this as though her vision had quickened.

As he fell, Marler had dived a hand inside his holdall, the flap open. His hand came out holding a grenade. Newman hissed out the words.

That trick grenade won't work this time. It's probably the same lot we met before...'

Paula stiffened. She was waiting for the thud of bullets into her body when a fusillade hammered them. Marler lobbed his grenade over-arm. It sailed through the night air in an arc, landed amid the group of men under the umbrellas. There was a brief flash of light, a loud crack! as the grenade detonated.

Two of their attackers staggered backwards, hit the pavement with heavy thuds. Another one tried to stagger into the empty street, fell forward. The fourth man slumped against a wall, slid down it. Paula had felt vibrations from the detonation pa.s.sing under her. She stared again. Three of the umbrellas had shattered into shards, chips of stone from the nearby building had been hurled across the street. The man who had slumped against the wall had fired a short burst as he collapsed sideways, but his weapon had been pointed upwards. The burst had shattered a street lamp, showering the body with fragments of gla.s.s. What remained of the Umbrella Men were four still bodies.

'We'd better get out of this,' Tweed snapped, jumping agilely to his feet, slipping on ice, recovering his balance. 'Police headquarters are in the next street. The buildings may have m.u.f.fled the sound but we'll take no chances. We'll go back down the opposite side of the street.'

He was walking down the opposite pavement, Paula by his side, when Newman and Marler came up behind them. Marler glanced at his companion.

'That, as you'll now have gathered, was the real McCoy. Have faith in me.'

'You certainly saved our bacon,' Newman said with feeling.

Ahead of them, Paula grasped Tweed's arm. She nodded her head in the direction of the other side of the street. The thug who had collapsed over the pavement edge was almost invisible. His umbrella, the only one to remain intact, had fallen over his p.r.o.ne corpse. It looked as though he was taking a nap and had used the umbrella to shelter under.

'It's surreal,' Paula whispered.

Then she saw on a shop window they were pa.s.sing a huge smear of blood. The temperature was so low it had congealed in the shape of a hand. She shuddered. Tweed hurried her back to the Three Kings. They paused outside to brush snow and dirt off their coats, then walked into the warmth of their hotel.

'Heavenly,' Paula said to herself.

The concierge came from behind his counter to press 'one' by the side of the lift. All four of them were just able to squeeze their way inside.

'We'll all go to my room. Have a drink, said Tweed.

He poured wine from an ice bucket into four gla.s.ses. Before the others sat down they took off their coats. Tweed sat on a couch next to Marler, so they faced Paula and Newman on another couch. Tweed raised his gla.s.s.

'Here's to survival.'

'I'll drink to that,' said Paula with enthusiasm.

'I must apologize to one and all,' Tweed began. 'For being an idiot. I said something like, "It's lucky they don't know we're here." They do. Very significant.'

'You're not going to tell us why, of course,' Paula teased.

'I have other things on my mind.' He smiled to take the edge off ignoring her question. 'When Bob went to fetch his coat Keith Kent phoned me. He's coming to see us in the morning.'

'My tummy's rumbling,' Paula remarked.

'Bob,' Tweed requested, 'could you phone down and make sure they'll serve dinner for us? It's a bit late.' He drank some more of his wine. 'Well, that's four of them disposed of, thanks to Marler. A long way to go yet.'

'They'll serve dinner when they see us,' Newman reported, returning from the phone.

'Tweed,' Paula pointed out, 'you're still wearing your overcoat.'

'So I am. Mental concentration,' he explained, taking off the coat. 'I want us to get cracking tomorrow. I sense we have very little time left. Oh, Paula, could you tell us the three different names for this city?'

'I suppose I could,' she said, puzzled. 'first, Basel, which is the English version. Then Bale...' She spelt it out. 'I just gave you the French version. Third, B-a-a-sel. I have just p.r.o.nounced the German version.' She spelt it out.

'B-a-a-sel,' repeated Tweed. 'Exactly. The German p.r.o.nunciation. Sounds rather like Basil - especially the way Windermere p.r.o.nounces his name in his highfalutin' voice.'

'What's the point?' asked Marler.

'Basil... Schwarz. Isn't that what you heard the Ear say as his last words?'

'Yes, it was.'

'You overlooked the fact that when a man knows he is dying, is desperate to get a message across to you, he's likely to revert to his natural language. Which was German. Poor Kurt was pointing his finger at this city. Which is the main reason we're here when I'd realized what he'd really tried to say.'

'But why use his real name? Schwarz?'

'For the same reason. He'd reverted to German. In that language schwarz means black. Hence the Schwarzwald - the Black Forest. There was mention that the Americans had a secret base outside Basel. I think it's somewhere in the Black Forest. So our next job is to locate it - bearing in mind it's likely to be heavily protected.'

20.

In the morning Marler was early down to breakfast. He had called on Tweed first, but his chief was studying a large map of the Black Forest. He told Marler to go down and he'd join him later. The dining room was almost empty at that early hour. Seated by herself at a table, Marler saw Denise Chatel.

'May I join you?' he suggested. 'Or if you're one of those people who prefer to breakfast alone I'll understand.'

'Please sit down, Alec. Sharon went out somewhere, said she'd be back later. And I do prefer company at this hour.'

'Then I'll join you.'

He ordered a full English breakfast. The pleasant waitress was pouring him coffee as he broke a roll and began eating. He was famished. Denise, he noted, had contented herself with coffee and croissants.

'Are you alert?' he asked quietly.

'You have news for me?' she reacted eagerly. 'If so, I want to hear it. I'm a lark, on top of everything as soon as I get out of bed.'

'It's rather grim.'

'Just tell me, please. All the details you have.'

She was dressed in a thick beige two-piece trouser suit with a polo neck. He thought she looked very smart. Her blue eyes were fixed on him and she stopped eating as he recounted what he had learned from Cord Dillon. There was still no one else in the dining room as he concluded and his bacon and eggs had just been put before him.

'I'm sorry,' he said, 'but there seems little doubt that it was cold-blooded murder. And it was covered up by Was.h.i.+ngton. Possibly on the orders of the mysterious Charlie. I must have given you a shock.'

'You haven't. It just confirms finally what I suspected. I wish I knew who Charlie was,' she said vehemently. 'I have heard his name mentioned just once at the Emba.s.sy!

'Who mentioned it?'

'A very unpleasant-looking man. Someone told me he was called Jake Ronstadt. I was walking along a corridor in rubber-soled shoes when he came out of a room with another man. I heard him say, "I told you. First I have to check it out with Charlie." Out of the corner of my eye I saw him stare at me but I kept on walking.'

'Any idea at all who he was referring to?'

'None at all. It's the only time I've heard the name. What made me remember it was the venomous look Ronstadt gave me as I pa.s.sed him.'

'Well, have you any idea what Ronstadt's job is?'

'None at all. He was pointed out to me by a friend when we were in the Emba.s.sy canteen. My friend told me to keep well away from him. She'd heard he was dangerous. That's all I know about him.'

'I think I've upset you. You haven't eaten a thing since I started talking.'

'Don't worry, Alec.' She gave him a radiant smile. 'It's a kind of relief to know my suspicions were justified.' She began eating again. 'And thank you very much for finding out what really happened to them. I was very fond of my parents, especially of my father.'

'Does Sharon know I'm here?'

'No. I didn't even know until you walked in to the dining room. She doesn't know you exist. I'll keep it that way.'

'Please do. Has she any idea that Tweed is staying here?'

'Oh, yes. She mentioned to me she'd seen him arrive with Robert Newman.'

'Oh, of course. Tweed told me she'd been in the lobby when he arrived. Have you any idea how long Sharon plans to stay here?' Marler asked casually.

'None at all. I get on very well with her, but she's rather reserved. Very English, is how she strikes me. I hope you'll excuse me, I have to go now, get some work done. Maybe, if you're free one evening, we could have dinner together outside the hotel?'

'That is something I'd look forward to. Trouble is I'm pretty busy myself. Working on an investigation job with Tweed. If I get the chance I'll certainly contact you.'

'It's been lovely talking to you.' She took out a small notepad and scribbled on it, then tore out the sheet and handed it to him. 'That's my room number. I really do have to dash now...'

Marler was facing the exit. As Denise reached the door Tweed appeared on the other side, opened it for her. He smiled and Marler heard what he said.

'Good morning.'

He had spoken rather formally, as though his only contact with her had been when she had come to his office. Marler smiled to himself, recalling how he had seen Tweed leaving her flat in Belgrave Square.

'Newman will be joining us in a minute,' Tweed said as he sat down opposite Marler. 'Paula's coming too.' He lowered his voice. 'Sorry I've been awhile. Beck paid me a quick visit. Armed with the photos, he'd sent a couple of his men in a car to watch the Euler. Early this morning two of the thugs came out, got into a car and drove off. Beck's men followed them to the border. They drove on through the checkpoint along the autobahn into Germany.'

'Which leads to where?'

'A small town called Breisach, if you turn left off Autobahn 5. On the other hand, if you turn right you arrive in Freiburg.' He paused. 'That's the route into the Black Forest.'

'Pity we couldn't have followed them. But the tracking signal is under Ronstadt's car. You could be right about the Black Forest. Maybe we ought to take turns in driving up close to the Euler, standing watch on Ronstadt's car. Newman and I would be the best bet, taking pre-arranged watches.'

'I don't think so.' Tweed shook his head. He looked up. Paula and Newman had entered the restaurant, came to join them. 'I've something to tell you while this place is quiet...'