Rhinoceros (33 page)

'You've missed something. Before that we had dinner with Lord Barford - and he's turned up in this hotel. And
that was when Lisa Trent first appeared on the scene.'

'You're right. I got that out of sequence. And Lisa also
is staying in this hotel. Going on to Alfriston, Bogle tried
to say it was suicide - an idea put into his head by Gavin
Thunder. Sergeant Pole tells us about the Invisible Man

-
Rondel. We visit Eagle's Nest, Rondel's weird house,
see a communications mast raised above the chimney. We
return to Park Crescent. . .'

'After a bullet has been fired through the windscreen,
aimed at you.'

'True. Mark Wendover arrives, goes off, does his own
thing.'

'Just as he's done at the Zurcher Rredit here.'

'Let me go on. I see Gavin Thunder, who accepted
Mordaunt
was
murdered. Albeit reluctantly. Lisa's sister,
Helga, is shot dead. Target was probably Lisa herself. . .'

'And you still don't trust her.'

'Really?' Tweed looked surprised. 'I thought you didn't.'

'I'd forgotten about Helga.'

'Doesn't prove anything . . .'

'She gave us the list of targets the rioters would hit -and she was right,' Paula reminded him.

'Might have been another confidence-building exercise

- so she could infiltrate the SIS. Our opponent — whoever
it is - has audacity. Now we come to the guts. Newman
hears rumours of a highly secret meeting to take place
somewhere in the Bahamas . . .'

'Which now looks more like the island of Sylt, according
to Kuhlmann,' Paula interjected.

'I think,' Tweed said decisively, 'three factors are keys to
what is going on. One, the huge amount of money which
is disappearing from the Zurcher Kredit. Keith did say
billions of marks. Two, this absolutely top secret meeting
of very powerful men somewhere in the world. Three,
who is running this show? Finally, I'm still convinced two tremendous forces are arrayed against each other. Trouble
is, I don't know who belongs to which one. But I'm sure one is good and the other is evil.'

Paula put a hand to her mouth, suppressing a yawn. Tweed, who had taken his doodle pad from a drawer, noticed it, of course.

'I really think you ought to get to bed, leave me to it. I
think you could sleep now.'

'I think I could.' She stood up. 'They are all mys
terious characters. Gavin Thunder, Lisa, Rondel, Lord
Barford. I even wonder about Mark Wendover some
times.'

'Get to bed.'

'And,' she persisted, 'really it all started with the murder
of Jason Schulz in Washington - to say nothing about the
murder of Louis Lospin in Paris.'

'Do go to bed.'

She flip-flopped in her slippers towards the sleeping
area, then turned round.

'And don't forget the Internet glitch that scared the wits
out of Monica when the screen went crazy. And the phones
went dead at the same time.'

'What do you mean?' He grunted. 'Monica was phoning
all the world to see if the same thing happened.'

'That was later. She told me that when she picked up the phone after the glitch stopped it was dead for
at least two minutes. I thought the Internet worked off
the phone lines. We've talked about this before.'

'If you say so,' he mumbled.

'And I keep thinking of that man in the elevator here who went up again when he saw us. I was closer to him.
His eyes behind those gold-rimmed glasses. He radiated
energy, will-power, personality.'

'For the last time, go to bed. What I want is to locate
and meet Rhinoceros.'

CHAPTER 20

Tweed woke with a start. Not knowing the situation,
he kept quite still, half-opened his eyes. Daylight was
streaming into the suite. Someone had pulled back the
curtains and he was lying on the couch, a cushion behind
his head. He listened, heard nothing, got up.

He stretched, remembered that before he'd felt obliged to sprawl on the couch he'd taken off only his jacket and
shoes. But he hadn't bothered to place a cushion behind
his head. He recalled he had felt something underneath the cushion. Removing it he stared at his Walther, the papers
and the blue book Mark had brought him. He'd been so
tired he hadn't put them there.

'Paula,' he called out. 'I'm awake.'

No reply. Cautiously, he peered between the curtains
into the sleeping area. No Paula. Rubbing the back of his
neck he saw two envelopes on the carpet, obviously pushed
under the door from the outside. He tried the door. It was locked. Bending down, he retrieved the two envelopes.

One had the hotel name on the outside. He opened it.
The room key. Of course, Paula had woken before him, had gone back to her room, not forgetting the precaution
of locking his door, then pushing the key under it. He
opened the second envelope, a stiff, plain white affair. He
read the message inside.

Meet me at the Turm for coffee — and information. Turm,
Lagerstrasse 2-8. Lisa.

He frowned. 'Lisa' was also typed, not signed in her
hand.

He thought about it after checking the time - 8 am -
and while he bathed, shaved and dressed in another suit.
He put the note in one pocket, the Walther in another.
Going down in the elevator he asked for a safety deposit
- he almost said lock-box - and when he had signed the form, a male member of the staff accompanied him up a
short flight of stairs.

Producing a key, the hotel man opened a door it would be
easy not to notice. Once inside he closed the door which
was automatically locked. He led Tweed into another
room where the walls were lined with safety deposit boxes in varying sizes. He used his master key to turn the lock,
invited Tweed to take his time and then vanished so his
client had privacy.

Tweed turned the other key, took out the metal box, opened the lid. Inside he put Kefler's papers and Mark's
niched blue book. Sliding it back, he turned his own
key, then tried to open it again without using his key.
He couldn't. The compartment automatically locked and
could not be opened again without use of the master key. Excellent security.

He had also put in the box Lisa's envelope containing
the 100,000 DM. He went into the breakfast room. There
was quite a party at one table - Paula, Newman, Mark
and Lisa. There was laughter, a jolly atmosphere of people
enjoying themselves. Lisa wore a sleeveless pale green
blouse, a white pleated skirt and trainers.

'Welcome to our working breakfast,' said Paula with a
warm smile. 'Did you sleep well?'

'Like a man with no conscience,' Tweed replied as he sat in an empty chair, next to Lisa, facing Paula.

'Oh, come on,' Lisa chaffed him. 'You mean a man
with nothing on his conscience.' She cocked her head. 'Or
am I wrong?' she continued with a grin.

Tweed ordered his breakfast. Orange juice, coffee, toast
and marmalade. He produced the note about the Turin,
gave it to her.

'Did you slide this under the door of my room?'

'I damned well did not,' she replied indignantly after a
swift perusal. 'What's going on? I had a note slipped under
my door, too. Do read it.'

She produced a stiff white envelope, the replica of the
one Tweed had received. The message was typed.

Go urgently to the main railway station. Wait in the small
cafe. You will be approached by a man wearing a carnation in
his buttonhole. Wait until he arrives.

'No signature,' he commented.

'Exactly,' she said. 'I decided not to cooperate. Now
I'm wondering if someone was trying to get me out of the
way so you couldn't check with me about your note.'

'My conclusion too.'

'Would you excuse me for a few minutes?' she asked.
'I have spilt coffee on my new skirt. Won't take me long
to change.'

When she had gone Tweed lowered his voice. First he
checked to make sure no one was sitting near them.

'Paula, I said last night I'm ready for war. And I am. The rendezvous at the Turm - or tower - gives us an
opportunity to hit back hard. Here is the plan . . .'

When he had explained it he left them to make a call to the Renaissance. He spoke to Pete Nield, who said Harry Butler had just arrived in his room. His instructions were
precise and terse. Arriving back at the table in the breakfast
room he found Lisa had returned, wearing another plain
white skirt.

'Sorry, I had to make a phone call,' he told her.

'Your orange juice is getting cold,' she said with a grin.

At 11 a.m. the six of them walked down the hotel steps
and found the two cream Mercedes
Newman had hired waiting for them. Earlier, in the breakfast room, Tweed
had brought over Marler from his solitary table in a corner,
had introduced him to Lisa.

'I do the odd jobs, like carrying luggage,' Marler had told her.

'I've never seen a porter look so smart,' she had commented with a warm smile as they shook hands.

Marler was wearing a pale linen suit, blue shirt and was sporting a Valentino tie. He grinned at her as he sat down
with them.

'The luggage I carry,' he had explained, 'is expensive.
So it needs an expensive porter to carry them,' he joked.

'You are making fun of me,' she had replied, then
laughed.

On the pavement a uniformed porter opened the rear
door of the first Mercedes. Tweed gestured for Lisa to take a rear seat. Paula took Marler by the arm.

'Go on, join her. She likes you.'

'If you say so.'

When the porter had closed the door Paula thanked him, gave him a tip, said they didn't need him any more. Alone with Tweed, she spoke softly.

'You're driving this one? I thought so. Tell me the real
purpose of this trip to the Turin.'

'I've already explained it to Newman, who will travel with Mark in the second car behind us.' His expression became grim. 'I have reached the point where I think we
should tackle the enemy very roughly. Put as many of them
out of action as we can.'

'So you also think, as I do, that this invitation to the
Turm is a trap?'