The Janus Man (50 page)

Munzel took Lydia Fischer to the Movenpick for lunch. He felt he needed a change of surroundings, of menu. As they talked and ate their grilled sole and chipped potatoes Munzel was unaware he was being watched by Sue Templeton, the American girl friend of Ted Smith — the couple who had shown Kuhlmann where Munzel had thrown his motor-cycle into the river Trave.

`I'd recognize that man again if he'd grown a beard,' she had said jokingly to her English boy friend.

Now, as she ate her lunch with Ted, she kept glancing across the room at the blond-bearded man with the long golden hair. She really wasn't sure. She said nothing to Ted, who had only one topic in mind. An hour in bed with Sue to start the afternoon off.

Sue lingered over her coffee for some time when Ted had signed the bill. Then she suddenly grabbed her shoulder bag. `I think I'm going back to that shop where I spotted a dress.' `I'm going upstairs to get into my pyjamas...'

`And you'll still be in them when I get back. See you.'

She followed Munzel and the girl he was with out of the restaurant, still uncertain. Her walk was shorter than she'd expected. She saw them go inside the International, hovered as she checked her lipstick, then walked in after them. She went up to the concierge, gave him her warmest smile.

`That man with the blond beard who just came in with a girl. Is he staying here? He looks exactly like a friend I knew in New York.'

`He is staying here, yes.'

The concierge was discreet. He gave no name. Sue thanked him and went back to the Movenpick. Five minutes later Munzel came out of the lift and walked across to the station. Again he dialled Altona. This time Vollmer answered the phone.

`Tweed has arrived in Hamburg. Had a blonde girl with him. He's staying at the same place as last time — the Four Seasons. Call me tomorrow. Normal time..

Munzel stepped out of the phone booth with a feeling of immense satisfaction. He was quite sure that within the next few days Tweed would turn up in Lübeck. That gave him time to work out how he was going to do it.

Tweed had lunch with Diana in the dining-room, the same room used for breakfast. He preferred the grill room but that was closed. They were both dining off
paillard de veau
and a selection of fresh vegetables which Diana raved about.

`I've never tasted such wonderful vegetables, Tweedy. And look at the variety — broccoli, French beans, mange tout and the most gorgeous cauliflower. I simply love this hotel.'

`Yes, it is out of the ordinary.'

Tweed looked round. The only thing he found off-putting were the cherubs. Perched on plinths round the central dining area were sculptures of life-like naked cherubs. Very fat cherubs. He could do without staring at plump buttocks while he was eating, thank you very much.

`How long are we staying?' Diana asked over the dessert as she attacked a huge sundae in a tall glass.

`Hard to say.'

After lunch they wandered round the spacious ground floor. The walls were decorated with tapestries depicting men hunting on horseback. Diana revelled in everything, which, reflected Tweed, was one of her many attractions. He told her he had a few more phone calls to make and she said she'd rest in her room until he came for her.

Seated in a chair by the windows in the reception hall Harry Butler waited, reading a German newspaper. He was still clad in grey slacks, sports jacket, a white shirt and a Paisley tie. Tweed went up in the elevator with Diana, let her out on her floor, went up to his own, then walked down the staircase to the last landing and gestured to Butler to join him.

Inside Room 412 Butler slumped into an arm chair. Tweed sat behind the writing desk and listened.

`You were followed,' he told Tweed. 'He saw you come here, then went on in the same cab to his place in an apartment block close to the U-bahn station at Altona. It overlooks a small park. Apartment 28. There's the address.' He handed Tweed a sheet of paper torn off his pocket notepad.

`How did you find the exact apartment?'

`He went up in the elevator. I watched the numbers over the elevator bank, saw the floor where he stopped, ran like hell up the staircase. Got there just in time to see him disappearing inside 28.'

`He could have seen you?'

`Absolutely not.'

`We might just have the start of the communication line from here into East Germany. We'll leave him for the moment.'

`He knows where you are,' Butler pointed out. 'That could be dangerous.'

`I'm sure it is. But that's my strategy. And we're leaving for Lübeck late this evening. After dinner. I want to get there before they expect me …'

`That could be even more dangerous,' Butler insisted. 'For you. The last time you were in Lubeck you said you were attacked. This time they may pull it off.'

`It's your job — and Nield's — to see they don't. Harry, I am stepping up the pressure on Lysenko. I'm convinced he's about to launch a major operation — that he wants me out of the way first. For some reason he thinks I may detect the nature of the operation. I haven't. Yet. But I do think in some way it centres on Lübeck. I'm going to stir up the pot like mad. Someone on the other side is going to make a mistake — and when they make it I want to be there.'

`It's your hide...'

`It's my decision. And you have another job. That girl who came with me — Diana Chadwick is her name. Your other job is to protect her life. She could be a key witness. Don't ask me to what. I haven't worked it all out yet. I think it goes back years into the past. Just make sure nothing happens to Diana. And she doesn't know either you or Nield exist.'

`You are playing this one close to the chest. Suggests to me you don't know who you can trust..

`I can't trust any of them.' Tweed became businesslike. 'I need that notepad for a moment.'

Tweed took a small sheet of plastic from his wallet, slipped it under the first sheet, began writing on it. He wrote only a few words, then handed the notepad back.

`That's where we're staying in Lübeck. There's a room booked in your name. When we get off the train — we travel separately, of course — Nield leaves first. He's staying at a hotel called the Movenpick. Only a few hundred yards' walk from the station. You and I take separate cabs to the Jensen, register like strangers to each other. I'll be travelling with Diana. And I'll give you her room number at the Jensen at the first opportunity. Any questions? If not, I'll get room service to send us up some coffee. Wait in the bathroom when it arrives.'

`No questions,' Butler said laconically.

He was studying Tweed. He'd known him a long time. There always came a time like this. First there was the waiting — the period when Tweed sniffed the air, trod cautiously, merged into the background, feeling his way forward carefully. Then, without warning, came the big change.

Tweed went over on to the offensive, using all his guile to smoke out the opposition, taking risks, even setting himself up as a target — which was exactly what he was doing now. Butler noticed another change. Tweed's tone of voice when he referred to Diana. He'd never heard him talk about another woman in this way — not since Tweed's wife (Roedean and all that) walked off with a Greek shipping tycoon, for God's sake. His musings were interrupted when Tweed gave him Diana's room number, then checked his watch. Tweed rubbed his hands in anticipation.

`Only another few hours — then Lübeck …'

Munzel made his second phone call to Vollmer from the station brief. Vollmer didn't like too many calls, had a short fuse.

`I need someone here to watch the Hauptbahnhof — to report to me at the International when Tweed arrives. You got that? I'm now at the Hotel International..

`You told me before.' Vollmer sounded impatient. 'I can't get anyone there before tomorrow. That will have to do.. `I'm registered as Claus Kramer.

`Noted. Don't make more phone calls than you need to. I'm busy. Tomorrow...'

There was a click. The bastard had rung off. Up yours. He pulled at his beard as he left the booth, fuming.

Forty-Seven

It was 6.17 p.m. as Tweed and Diana left the express at Lübeck. Tweed had suddenly changed his mind, decided to leave Hamburg by an earlier train. Butler watched them as they climbed the steps off the platform. Nield was already at the top of the flight, disappearing from view as he made his way on foot to the Movenpick.

Following at a gentle pace — to give them time to get a cab — Butler had the impression Tweed couldn't wait to reach Lübeck. Everything had suddenly become hurry-hurry. Walking out of  the concourse on the higher level, he saw them climbing into a taxi.

He waited until their cab had pulled away before summoning his own. It was still broad daylight. Holidaymakers strolled back to their hotels for dinner. The atmosphere was warm and humid. Butler suspected Lübeck was at the end of a torrid day.

`It's like coming home again,' Diana said to Tweed, snuggling up against him in the taxi. 'Ann Grayle is in for a surprise when she sees me. I'm looking forward to that.'

`I thought you didn't like her.'

`It's a kind of love-hate relationship.' She smiled impishly. 'I like her, she hates me.'

The manager at the Jensen had welcomed them back, Tweed had registered, was just about to press the elevator button when Harry Butler appeared, carrying his case. Tweed ignored him but said to Diana in a loud voice, 'Your room number is 307, mine is 303 — so you can easily pop along to see me. Let's get down for dinner as soon as we can. I'm famished.'

Fifteen minutes later Butler walked into the large oblong- shaped room which was the restaurant. The place was crowded, had the jolly atmosphere of people enjoying themselves. They gave him a table by the windows at the end of the room overlooking the street and the river beyond. Tweed and Diana were at a table against the wall, chattering like magpies. A few minutes later he idly noticed a tall, heavily-built man with a blond beard and long hair enter accompanied by an attractive brunette. They were given a table on the far side of the room, near the serving counter and bar.

Newman slept for twelve hours aboard the sloop at Travemünde. Ann Grayle had sent Ben to fetch some dry clothes, insisted that Newman took a shower, and when, he came out wrapped in a bath-robe she sat him at a table already laid and presented him with a large bowl of steaming hot asparagus soup.

`It's from a tin, but you do look as though you need some internal central heating quickly,' she drawled. 'And here's a glass of whisky. Neat. Does everything suit His Lordship?'

Later, Newman had put on a pair of outsize pyjamas Ben had brought back. Grayle had asked no questions, typical of  the discretion of an ex-diplomat's wife. After the meal he'd been taken to a bunk which he collapsed into, hardly able to keep his eyes open.

Grayle, a glass in her hand, had perched for a moment on the edge of the bunk, a wicked look in her eyes.

`Better if you sleep alone tonight, don't you agree? I'm not sure you'd be up to any sort of physical activity...'

That was the last thing he'd heard anyone say until he woke. Strong light was pouring in through the porthole above his head. He looked at his watch, expecting it to have stopped. Someone had wound it for him while he slept. Christ! It was noon.

He took Grayle out to a long lunch at a place on the waterfront. Again she asked no questions. As for Newman, he wallowed in the release from tension, the end of the need to look at everyone as a potential danger. Grayle talked about her past life in Kenya, mentioning Dr Berlin.

`I didn't even like him then. These do-gooders always bore the hell out of me.'

It was mid-afternoon when they wandered together along the waterfront. Newman pointed to the
Südwind
. The cruiser had a deserted look. He asked whether she'd noticed any activity on board.

`No, but I've been on a shopping trip to Hamburg. I spent several days there, so I don't know. The precocious Diana is noticeable by her absence. Must have found some new man to roll around with..

It was after six in the evening when he left the sloop and called Park Crescent from a public phone booth. Monica came on the line and he heard the relief in her voice when they'd talked for only a minute.

`Where are you, Bob? Are you all right?'

`Lübeck. I'm OK. I desperately need to talk to Tweed.'

`I don't know where he is.' She paused. 'Where are you calling from?'

`Public call box. Chosen at random...'

`He's over there. Flew to Hamburg. Today. He was going to stay at the Four Seasons, but when I tried to call him an hour ago he'd checked out. No forwarding address — and he didn't even sleep there one night.'

`I'll call again, Monica. I have to go now

`Take care.'

`Thanks, but it doesn't matter any more.'

Newman put down the receiver, took out a cigarette, lit it and thought. Hamburg today. An unscheduled departure. The second trip to Germany. Tweed would be geared up, moving fast. Was he on his own? That was what worried Newman. Then he had an idea. He checked the directory, found the number of the Jensen, dialled the number. He recognized the manager's voice.

`Have you a Mr Tweed from London staying with you?'

`Yes, he's just arrived. You wanted to speak to him? He's having dinner. I saw him go in a few minutes ago. You want to speak to him now? Could you hold on a minute?'

It seemed an age before Tweed came on the line. Actually it was thirty seconds. Newman had checked by his watch. `Who is it?' Tweed asked cautiously.

`Newman...'

`Thank God! Where are you calling from?'

`Public phone booth in Travemünde. Can I come right over? I can be there in fifteen minutes by cab. Are you alone?'

`No, Diana is with me...'

`You know what I mean.'

`The answer to your question is no.'

`Well, thank God for that. Book me a room if you can. I am on my way...'

`We're having dinner. Just started. Take your time. Are you in one piece?' The anxiety came clear down the line.

`By a miracle — several — yes. See you.'

On his way back to the sloop to tell Ann Grayle he had to go into Lübeck, Newman passed the local police station. An old building with a Dutch-style roof, it perched on the corner of the waterfront and a side street, St-Lorenz-strasse. Newman paused briefly, his eye caught by a poster. It was a reproduction of the Identikit picture of Kurt Franck. The poster was beginning to curl at the edges, taking a secondary place to other more recent posters of wanted villains. He stared at it for a moment before hurrying on.