Cross of Fire (41 page)

'And there are plenty of candidates for the role of assas
sin here in Aldeburgh at the moment.' Newman com
mented. He had been told by Tweed of the conversation
with Monica as they had waited for Paula's return. 'Major
Lamy, Sergeant Rey, Lieutenant
Berthier - and Brand.'

'So your first priority in the morning is to drive Paula
back to London in your Merc. That's an order.'

'Which I'm happy to carry out...'

'She musn't linger here a moment longer.' Tweed
stressed. 'You must remove her from the zone of danger -
Aldeburgh.'

'And then, I suppose.' Newman said cynically, 'she'll want to move into a zone of even greater danger when she hears where I'm going. France.'

Chapter Twenty-Six

SECOND LYONS RIOT. FRENCH SITUATION WORSENS.

In his Park Crescent office next day Tweed read the text below the alarming headline. Monica had obtained the copy
of the leading Paris newspaper,
Le Monde,
during his absence.

Over 2,000 casualties... more than 400 killed ... Lyons in a state of chaos ... The President may visit city ... martial law
considered...

He skip-read the account in French quickly, glanced at
Paula who sat behind her desk. She was looking more
normal. A good night's sleep in Aldeburgh before Newman had
driven her back had done her a world of good. Earlier, Newman had repaired Tweed's Escort.

'I read it.' she said. 'Could it be General de Forge stepping up the pressure?'

'Someone is.' Tweed replied cautiously. 'I'm flying to
Paris later today to consult with Lasalle. He doesn't seem to
trust the phone. That's after I've seen Chief Inspector
Kuhlmann.'

'Here? He's flying to London?'

'Yes, expected any moment. Monica took the call before I
arrived back. Someone else who doesn't trust phones. It
worries me - the atmosphere of intrigue at the very top.
While in Paris, I'm meeting Pierre Navarre, Minister of the
Interior - the only strong man in the government.'

'We've come back from a troubled time in Aldeburgh to an inferno.'

'I suspect the inferno is still to come.' He noted her understatement - 'a troubled time' - which covered a near-successful attempt to strangle her. Paula was very resilient. 'On top of all this.' he told her, 'we have Chief Inspector Buchanan descending on us later. At my request, admittedly, and Victor Rosewater will join us. I must give Buchanan that signet ring and both of us - Rosewater and myself - will have to take a few salvoes from our friend, Buchanan. I expect we'll survive ...'

As he was speaking the phone rang, Monica answered it, said could he wait just a minute. She put her hand over the
mouthpiece.

'It's started. Otto Kuhlmann is downstairs.'

'Wheel him up ...'

The German walked in, wearing a dark business suit, an
unlit cigar clamped tightly between his teeth. He looked
grim but went over to Paula, put his arm round her
shoulders, gave her a hug. He stared at the scarf tucked in
above her form-fitting powder blue sweater. The scarf had slipped. Kuhlmann's sharp eyes missed nothing.

'Your throat.' he rasped. 'You've been in the wars?'

'You could say that.' Tweed intervened as Paula adjusted the scarf. 'Tell you about it in a minute. Sit down. Welcome
to London. Coffee?'

'Please. Black as sin.'

Kulhmann sat in an armchair, shifted his bulk, staring
again at Paula. He twiddled his cigar as he watched her.

'Do light your cigar.' Paula urged. 'I like the aroma of a Havana.'

Monica had hurried from the room to make coffee.
Kuhlmann lit his cigar, looked at Tweed, waved the cigar towards Paula.

'Her throat.' he persisted.

Tweed gave a terse account of their trip to Aldeburgh, expressed his certainty that Kalmar had been in the area. He
gave the German a list of his suspects, told him he'd not reached the stage where the finger pointed at one man.

'Any idea where he comes from, his nationality?' Kuhl
mann asked. 'I also have been trying to get a grip on him.
All I hear from my contacts is he's from somewhere in the
East. That covers quite a lot of territory. Not a hint of his
age, his description.'

'The shadow of a shadow,' Tweed remarked. 'Rather curious. Possibly even significant. But that isn't why you flew to see me, Otto.'

He waited while Monica poured a large cup of black, steaming coffee. Kuhlmann thanked her, drank half the cup in one steady stream.

'Siegfried.'
he began. 'Rosewater rang me again from
somewhere. I didn't ask him from where. He is Military
Intelligence. Gave me another address he'd just obtained from an informant. An apartment in Munich. We raided it,
found another arms cache. Twelve Kalashnikov rifles, spare mags, six grenades, and two kilos of Semtex.'

Tweed leaned forward. 'And terrorists?'

Kuhlmann waved his hands like a swimmer. 'I think the local police fumbled it. Patrol cars approached with sirens
screaming. No terrorists, No one in the apartment. And
again, not one single fingerprint. Another woman at work,
I'm sure. A man would have missed something.'

'So
Siegfried
is in place,' Tweed commented.

'Our own informants in the criminal underground say
they are - and they know what's going on. Upwards of a
hundred trained saboteurs and assassins. Likely targets:
leading members of the government, including the Chancel
lor himself. Apparently they're waiting for a signal from
abroad. Then they start to destabilize Germany. What I'm
really worried about is the growing campaign in certain
parts of the French press against Germany.'

'All of which is orchestrated. Every responsible person knows Germany is the most peace-loving nation on the continent.' Tweed continued. 'Certain elements in France are whipping up anti-German feeling for their own sinister ambitions. To cover up the fact that all they're interested in is seizing power in Paris. The
Cercle Noir.'

'The Black Circle.' Kuhlmann waved his cigar. 'And we've heard rumours about them. They're anti-Semitic, anti-American, anti-British. The trouble is we don't know who they are. But they wield a hell of a lot of clout. And if I can't smoke out the
Siegfried
terrorists before they break loose they'll justify what the yellow Paris press is saying about us.'

'Which is the whole idea, the core of the plan.'

'On top of this the criminal underworld reports they
expect huge reinforcements to arrive soon. From where? If
it's from the East - like Kalmar - they'll get through.'

'You have any good men at Wiesbaden who speak
French?' Tweed asked.

'Yes, why?'

'Send them undercover into Geneva. Spread the word
they are trying to contact Kalmar for a big job. Fee - three million marks. No, make that Swiss francs.'

'If you say so...'

'And send more undercover men, German-speaking, into
Basle. Same message.'

'You know something?'

Kuhlmann watched Tweed through blue cigar smoke.
Then he drank the rest of his coffee and Monica refilled
his cup.

'Just do it. What about Stahl, your agent posing as a
Frenchman in Bordeaux? Any news?'

Kuhlmann hesitated. 'Hell! You've been frank with me.
He's still there. The trouble is you warned me that he
shouldn't use his transmitter. His last signal said he had a load of information - that he'd bring it out as soon as he
could. A very brief signal. You're operating in France?'

Kuhlmann looked at the ceiling as he asked the question
casually.

'On a large scale.'

'That's really why I came. It's difficult for German agents to operate inside France. The Chancellor has put a veto on the idea.'

'Why?'

'As you know, he has a good' relationship with the
President of France. If the Paris press could get hold of a
story that we have agents inside French territory they'd
have a field day.'

'What about Stahl then?'

Kuhlmann looked up at the ceiling again. Paula knew he was working out his answer.

'That's my secret.' Kuhlmann said eventually. 'And if the fact ever came to light, I sent in Stahl before the Chancellor said there was a veto. And now it be difficult for Stahl to get out quickly. That Black Circle may have done just that -put a circle round Bordeaux.'

'They have.' Tweed recalled Newman's evading action when he'd slipped past the watchers at Bordeaux Airport. 'The airport is a trap.' he warned. 'And my guess is they're also watching the rail stations, maybe even have checkpoints outside the city for motorists.

'So Stahl is trapped.'

'We might be able to reach him. No guarantees. So, we are on your side, Otto. All you can do is to go back, hope, and pray...'

Tweed checked his watch when Kuhlmann had said good
bye, had left for Heathrow. Monica guessed what was on
his mind.

'Yes, Victor Rosewater is due very shortly...' She picked up the phone which had started ringing. As she listened her
expression changed. 'You mean all three of them have
arrived together? That they're here now?'

Her expression was a mixture of puzzlement and annoy
ance. She looked at Tweed.

'I don't think you're going to like this. The idea was Rosewater arrived for a half hour's quiet chat with you
before Buchanan grilled him.'

'What's gone wrong?'

They're all waiting downstairs. Rosewater, Buchanan,
and his sidekick, Sergeant Warden.'

'Very odd. Oh, now I get it.' He raised his eyebrows at
Paula. 'Send them all up, Monica...'

Rosewater entered the room first. Wearing a trenchcoat, hands thrust in his pockets, he looked at Paula, winked. His
manner was cool and poised as always. Behind him a
wooden-faced Chief Inspector Buchanan followed with
Warden, also wooden faced, as always, bringing up the rear.

'Coats off, gentlemen,' Tweed said breezily. He looked at
Buchanan. 'And you're half an hour early.'

'I like to be in good time,' Buchanan said as he handed
his coat to Monica. 'We bumped into Mr Rosewater as we
were walking up and down outside. It seemed a good idea
to get on with it.'

Tweed had already caught on to Buchanan's tactics. With Warden he had deliberately turned up very early, hoping to see Rosewater arrive. That way there would be no time for Tweed to prime the Intelligence officer.

With his guests seated, Tweed wasted no time. Leaning into the back of his chair he explained how Rosewater,
Newman, and Paula had found the signet ring on the
marshes. He unlocked a drawer, took out the copy of the
original ring, handed it to Buchanan.