Rhinoceros (31 page)

'No joke. Their security is good, but not that good. And
I did pick up a few tricks of the trade while I was with
the CIA.'

'What the devil did you think you were doing? I do like
to know what's going on.'

'Well, you do know now I've told you,' Mark rapped back. 'I opened almost every box. You wouldn't believe the amount of 1,000 DM bills they have stashed away there. To say nothing of jewellery worth a king's ransom.'

'And you helped yourself?'

'I did not. I was looking for records. Found something in almost the last box I prised open. Can't understand it. A blue leather-bound book full of coded stuff. I'll give it to you when we get back. Well, here we are . . .'

As they approached the elevators a woman sitting in
the room beyond the hall, smoking a cigarette, stood up,
walked over to them. Lisa Trent.

CHAPTER 18

Lisa was dressed to kill, Newman thought. She was wearing a close-fitting green dress which went perfectly with her flaming red hair. She was smiling as she approached Tweed, who paused briefly on his way to the elevator.

'Mr Tweed, I have important information for you . . .'

'Not now. I have an urgent phone call to make.'

The elevator door was open. He walked inside, followed by Paula and Newman, who smiled back at Lisa. Just before the doors closed Lisa slipped into the elevator with them. No one spoke. As the elevator doors opened at the third floor Tweed marched out, holding his room key which he had taken with him. He opened the door of his suite without a glance back. Paula followed him. Newman hesitated and Lisa walked past him into the suite. Tweed, still in his coat, stared at her.

'I can't see you tonight.'

'Not very nice of you,' she said softly. 'I have been paid
to spy on you . . .'

'Tell me about it in the morning. I must ask you to
leave now.'

'All right, be bloody-minded.' She was flaring up again. Tweed had returned to the door, was waiting to open it for her to go. 'I was asked to phone a number from the main station.' As she spoke she was delving in her handbag. She dropped a sheet of paper on a couch. 'That ruddy
note, you oaf. While that suggestion was being made to
me over the phone - by a voice I didn't recognize - a
scruffy type pushed this envelope into my hand. My fee for spying on you.' She threw a bulky envelope on the couch. 'One hundred thousand deutschmarks. Give it to
your favourite charity - probably yourself. . .'

She smiled at Newman, glared at Paula, walked out through the door Tweed opened for her. Pursing his lips,
Tweed locked the door, rushed over to the phone after checking the directory on the desk for the number he
needed. Police. Paula had opened the unsealed envelope,
quickly counted the banknotes inside. She called out to Tweed.

'Lisa was right. There
is
a hundred thousand deutschmarks
in the envelope. It's a fortune . . .'

'She's clever, damnit,' he responded as he began press
ing numbers. 'A confidence-building tactic . . .'

'For heaven's sake,' Paula protested.

She was going to say more but Tweed held up a hand. She kept quiet.

'Polizei?' Tweed began.

'Who is calling? And why?' a gruff but faintly familiar
voice demanded in German.

'My name is Tweed . . .'

'Hell! I thought it was you,' the voice of Otto Kuhlmann,
chief of Federal Police, answered in English. 'I was about
to phone you - just tracked you to the Four Seasons.'

'What on earth are you doing in Hamburg, Otto? I'm calling to report a murder . . .'

'I'm in Hamburg on another matter. Who has been
murdered?'

'A Dr Kefler. At No. 23 . . .'

'I've just come back from there. Were you there at
roughly 2300 hours?'

'Yes, which is why I'm phoning . . .'

'Anyone with you?'

'Paula and Bob Newman . . .'

'Fits the description I have here, I'm coming to see you immediately.'

'It might be better if we came to see you,' Tweed
suggested. 'If it's not too far away.'

'Five-minute walk. I'm speaking from the 12th Dis
trict -
Polizeirevier
12 is on the sign outside, under a
white star. It's in a section of the Rathaus. From where
you'll come it's on the far side, an entrance you can
easily miss.'

'We're on our way . . .'

It was a little cooler but still humid. They were walking
past the Jungfernstieg landing stage when Paula made her
comment.

'You were pretty rough on Lisa.'

'Have you forgotten my earlier warning? On this trip we
trust no one, absolutely no one.'

Paula let it go for the moment. Back in the suite Tweed had said 'Damnit' twice. He was a man who
rarely swore, even mildly. She suspected Lisa had rattled
him, something very few people could do. They crossed
the bridge over the canal which led from the Binnenalster
and eventually reached the Elbe. Then across an eerily deserted square alongside the great Rathaus, its highly decorated towers rising up towards the moon. She was
thankful for the moonlight. They walked round the far
side of the building.

'What do we tell Otto?' Paula asked.

'The truth, but only as much as we have to. Not one
single word about Rhinoceros . . .'

Kuhlmann was right - it was easy to walk past the
entrance but Tweed spotted it. An arched opening wide
enough for one car to pass through and, beyond, the
large interior square hemmed in by the inner walls of the
Rathaus. The large white star and the wording were on the left-hand wall and as they entered the opening Kuhlmann
appeared, as usual wearing a civilian suit.

Once again the police chief, short, wide-shouldered, heavily built and with a large head and a wide mouth,
reminded her of Edward G. Robinson, seen in repeats
of old films. He threw his arms
round Paula, hugged her,
stared at Tweed.

'This time you could be in big trouble,' he rasped.

'I like you too,' Tweed replied.

'Come in. Bob, you look younger,' he said to Newman.

'Softening me up from the very start.' He waved a
hand. 'I think that remark should have been intended for
Paula.'

'But she always looks younger . . .'

He escorted them into a bleak room with a metal table
in the middle. Four tall upholstered chairs were placed
on different sides of the table. Tweed suspected this was
the interrogation room - except for the chairs. During normal interrogations the suspect would be seated in an
uncomfortable metal chair. A policewoman in uniform
brought in a tray with a coffee pot, a jug of cream and cups
and saucers. She offered to serve, but Kuhlmann waved her
away. He poured coffee as his guests sat down, let them
add their own cream, sat down himself.

'I've seen Dr Kefler,' he began, 'laid out on his back
with a bullet - explosive - in his head. What's left of it.
I knew him, liked him. Now the stage is yours, Tweed,'
he concluded, folding his arms.

Tweed started with Keith Kent in London - without
naming him - and then explained what had happened
inside the house. How they had then returned to the Four Seasons so he could phone the police.

'What about the second body?' Kuhlmann asked,
gazing
at the ceiling.

'Which second body?'

If he possibly could, Tweed was determined to keep But
ler out of it. Otherwise Harry could be kept in Hamburg for weeks - interrogated and Lord knew what else.

'You're saying you didn't see it?' the German asked,
now looking straight at Tweed.

'Where was it?'

'Inside the enclosed docks area. At the foot of a large
crane. Shot once. That was enough. I suspect he was the
man who murdered Kefler. Ballistics will confirm that - we have his rifle. My reconstruction is that the killer - from the
Balkans, I'd say - fired from the control cabin. We found imprints of his boots inside that cabin. Perfect view of No. 23. Where was Kefler when he was killed?'

'Standing in front of a window behind net curtains -with the light on behind him.'

'Then I'm right. The Balkan thug, I'm sure, had left
his cabin, was climbing down the ladder, when he noticed someone below. He was still gripping an automatic when
he was shot. Since the back of his skull was smashed in
he must still have been pretty high up. Marksman's work.
Is Marler with you?' he asked casually.

Paula had already realized that Kuhlmann was still the
experienced, shrewd policeman, the way he had worked
out the sequence of events. His question worried her.

'Oh, yes,' Tweed said agreeably, 'Marler is with us - but he wasn't when we went to see Dr Kefler. He'd had a hard
day and we left him fast asleep in his room at the hotel.'

'Tweed, why did you go to see Kefler? I know you have
told me but I think there's something else.'

'He gave me some papers.'

'Can I see them?'

'No.'

Kuhlmann drank more coffee. Then he folded his hands
behind his neck.

'I could get a warrant for them, you know.'

'Yes, I do know. But if you took them from me you
might well hinder my investigation - which could affect
your investigation.'

'Which investigation?'

'The other matter you referred to on the phone - the
one that brought you to Hamburg.'

'Oh, that one.'

'Yes,' said Tweed firmly. 'And I doubt that you're going
to tell me what that investigation is about.'

The German grinned, broke out into peals of laughter.
Then he looked at Paula.

'You know something, Paula? Talking to your chief is
like getting lost in Hampton Court maze. Or playing verbal
chess. Why do I always lose?'

'Well, are you going to tell him about the other matter?' she asked with a smile.

Kuhlmann pushed his chair back. He then paced slowly round the table. He looked at none of his guests and his
large hands were clasped behind his back. Returning to his
chair he drank more coffee, refilled his cup, looked round
but they all shook their heads.

'Something very strange is happening is Germany,' he
began in a quiet voice. 'A team of our special forces —
like your SAS, if you like - is being assembled secretly in
certain suburbs of this city.'