The Janus Man (58 page)

Newman paid off the cab and lingered for a moment with Nield, taking in the atmosphere. Tweed had been right. The pace was slower. None of the 'must get there yesterday' frenzy of London or New York.

Karl Johans Gate stretched due west. In the distance an elegant ochre and pale grey building stood on a small hill. The Royal Palace, Newman guessed. Across a park on another street an old cream and grey tram trundled through the city. The Norwegians strolled, made way for other people. Yes, I like this place Newman thought.

Inside Tweed was questioning the chief receptionist.

`We need three rooms with baths. You can manage that? Good. I'd also like the room number of my friend, Erich Lindemann.'

`Mr Lindemann isn't staying with us. He always does when he is in Oslo...'

`You mean he checked out today?'

`No, sir. Mr Lindemann hasn't stayed with us for the past two months.'

So much for Miss Browne and her knowledge of Scandinavian languages, Tweed thought. I'll bet she can't speak a word of one of them. But, of course — Lindemann is the linguist. He wouldn't want an assistant who could understand what he was saying on the phone.

`I have another friend who is staying here. Miss Diana Chadwick.'

`Now she is with us.' The receptionist glanced over his shoulder. 'Room 736. But she's out. Her key is on the rack.'

`Don't mention I enquired when she comes back. I want to surprise her.'

Newman and Nield came inside at that moment and registered. On their way up in the elevator Tweed warned them not to unpack, to be ready for departure at a moment's notice. He had just dumped his bag in his own room when the phone rang. A Captain Palmer was waiting to see him.

`Send him up, please. And ask room service to send up two pots of coffee.'

Palmer was a tall, thin, wiry-looking Norwegian in his early thirties. Dressed in a plain grey business suit, he shook Tweed's hand warmly, sat down and crossed his legs. He had thick sandy hair, a long nose and dark observant eyes with a hint of humour in them.

`Too long since we met, Tweed. I gather this is an emergency, so let us dispense with the greetings. What can I do to help?'

`A large power cruiser is approaching the entrance to the fjord. White colour with brass trimmings. Called
Nordsee
. I've had it shadowed by a Sea King, now waiting at Fornebu. If I send out my chopper again it might frighten off the man aboard from heading for his ultimate destination...'

`Which is?'

`I've no idea yet. I wonder whether you could arrange for at least one police launch from Sandvika to keep an eye on the
Nordsee
's movements. It appears to be heading for Oslo, but I need to know any alteration in course. And discretion is the order of the day.'

Palmer shook his head. 'Not a police launch. They only patrol the fjord near Oslo. What we need is the Coastguard. They operate in the outer reaches of the fjord. I can make the call now from here. We should have one vessel watching your prey within thirty minutes. A more precise description of the
Nordsee
would help.'

`I'm not good on boats...'

Tweed called Newman in his room, asked him to come, and when he arrived explained what was needed. While the two men talked he phoned down to ask if Diana had arrived back. She hadn't. Palmer then took over the phone, dialled and spoke rapidly in Norwegian. He put down the receiver.

`A Coastguard vessel will be on station shortly. The commander will report to me personally by radio direct to my HQ. I will then call you if there are developments.'

`I believe you're supposed to make a report of all incidents?' Tweed remarked.

`That is so.' Palmer shook hands again and went to the door. He turned before he left. 'But then again, I often have the most extraordinary lapses of memory.'

The next few hours — while Tweed waited for Diana to come back to the hotel — were tense. Night fell and Tweed arranged a roster for dinner. While he ate with Newman and Butler Nield stayed in the reception hall, seated in a chair. The instructions Tweed gave were precise and surprised the others.

`She may already have her bag packed and try to leave when she knows I'm here. If necessary, you are to forcibly restrain her in her room. Then call me via reception.'

They ate in the Grand Cafe, attached to the hotel, a large and rather old-fashioned place which overlooked the main street. Newman looked round, fascinated by the other diners. He'd noticed some of them at their tables an hour earlier. He remarked on the fact to Tweed, who sat gently drumming his fingers.

`Yes,' Tweed agreed, 'it's like pre-war customs in England I've read about. Gone forever. People — the locals — come and sit here for ages talking. It's part of their way of life.'

`And you're bothered about something? Diana?'

`Diana, yes. It's getting so late. But also, no report from Palmer. Something has gone wrong. I sense it.'

'This has happened before at this stage of the game... `True. This particular game though is the most dangerous I've ever played in the whole of my career so far.'

They were about to leave the Grand Café when Nield appeared at the door and beckoned to Butler, who jumped up and walked over to him. They conversed briefly; Nield vanished in the direction of the entrance hall and Butler returned to their table.

`She's just collected her key and gone up in the elevator.'

`Then I'd better get up and see her.' Tweed's tone was so grim, there was a ruthless expression on his face Butler had rarely seen. Tweed stared at him. 'I'm going to grill the hell out of her. You and Pete had better come with me. Stay outside her door — in case she tries to make a run for it. If she does, stop her.'

He walked straight out of the restaurant to the elevator bank, pressed the button, waited, stepped inside the elevator without a word. As it ascended Butler and Nield exchanged glances behind his back.

Tweed walked out into the corridor, checked the room number indicator, strode off to the left, turned left again and then right. He rapped on the door of 736. Diana, clad in a white sweater and a cherry-coloured skirt opened it.

`Tweed! How on earth did you...'

`We have to talk.' He pushed past her into the bedroom, closing the door. 'You have to talk — tell the truth. For the first time. Sit down.'

`When I'm asked nicely...'

`Sit down! Question number one. How long have you known Dr Berlin?'

She sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs as she studied him from under her eyelashes. Tweed remained standing, hands clasped behind his back.

`Over twenty years. You know that...'

`The
real
Dr Berlin I mean. Hurry up. I'm short of time.' `I don't know what you mean.'

`Why were you so scared out of your wits when you found the locks had been changed on the 
Südwind
?'

`I knew it was a warning.' Her voice had changed. She had a lace-edged handkerchief she began picking at. 'I thought at first I wouldn't be able to get at any of my own things — until I saw my drawers had been left alone.'

`Who were you scared of?'

`Whoever had changed the locks...'

`How have you managed for money all these years since you left Kenya?'

`You think I've slept with men, don't you, Tweed?' `No. So who gave you money to live on?'

`He did. He made me a regular allowance.' A vehement note came into her voice. 'I never slept with him. Not once.'

`I can believe that. So what made you worth the allowance?' `I'm frightened. Horribly frightened.'

`Why?' demanded Tweed in the same brusque tone, 'did you run out on me? Take the night express to Copenhagen, then fly up here?'

`Because I was horribly afraid — after I heard that American girl had been killed on the beach. I knew it must be him. I thought I'd be next. I'm a blonde. I have a girl friend who works in Oslo. I've had dinner with her. And Oslo seemed far enough away from Lübeck. I panicked. I want to start a new life. I'm sick of being a kept woman — even though I never performed the services a kept woman normally renders.'

`So, why did Dr Berlin keep you? As a witness? As one person who gave him credibility? One person who would say he was the same man as the Dr Berlin in Kenya? Do I have to drag it out of you, for God's sake?'

No, not any more. You're right. I was his witness. When we first sailed from the Med to Lübeck years ago he saw me. How he knew who I was I don't know. Maybe from a photograph. Perhaps someone told him I'd known Berlin well in Kenya. I was on my beam ends for lack of money...'

It came pouring out now Tweed had broken through the dam. He still remained standing, showing no sympathy, not daring to risk stopping her flow of words.

`He invited me to his house on Priwall Island. I went quite happily — until I saw him in his study. I knew at once that he wasn't the man I'd known in Kenya. He admitted he wasn't. Then he put me a proposition.'

`Go on! Don't stop now.'

`You're being beastly to me. All right.' She- sat stiffly as she continued. 'I had very little money — Ken, my husband, left nothing when he was killed hunting in the bush. It wasn't a secret — that I'd no money. He offered me a generous monthly allowance if I'd tell people he was the Dr Berlin I'd known in the old days. As you said, he needed a witness. I accepted.'

`What did you think this impostor was up to?'

`Oh, he told me some story — that he was the original Berlin's half-brother, that he wanted to carry on his charitable work, that he could do that best if he had his brother's reputation. For raising funds for refugees, things like that.'

`You believed him?'

`Not for a moment.' She was shredding the lace handkerchief. `And he knew it, but he didn't care. He let drop a remark which suggested he was engaged in some kind of smuggling. I thought, what's the harm? I needed the money.'

`Wait a minute.' Tweed produced a document from his breast pocket. 'Read that. It's the Official Secrets Act.'

'Why?'

`Just read it.' Tweed went to the door, asked Butler and Nield to come in for a moment. He explained they were witnessing the signing of the Official Secrets Act by Miss Diana Chadwick. When she had signed the document the two men left the room.

`Now,' said Tweed, 'you must know that Dr Berlin is not only an impostor, he isn't even German. He's English.'

`Yes.'

`Tell me anything you can about his real appearance — without that beard he grows every time he returns to Lübeck when he pretends to be meditating or some other rot. His habits.'

`He collects fine wines...'

`What?' Tweed let out the exclamation involuntarily.

`I said he collects fine wines. He even has a dozen bottles of Chateau d'Yquem in his-cellar at his mansion. He says it's a good investment. And once I caught a brief glimpse of him without his beard just after he'd arrived. He had a loop of hair drooped over his forehead. Rather like Hitler.'

`A catlick?'

`That's right.'

`Now.' Tweed stared hard at her. 'While we were in England I took you round with me to visit four men in their homes. I watched carefully your reaction when you met them — and their reactions. I couldn't spot a reaction which gave any of them away. One of them is Dr Berlin...'

`Really?'

`Yes, really.' Tweed's tone was sarcastic. 'That was why I took you with me. And don't deny it. I checked how much money you had in your handbag before we visited my first suspect. Two hundred and fifty pounds...'

`How very gallant of you.'

Tweed took two steps forward, stood over her. 'You little fool. We are dealing with a mass murderer. And you are the only witness who can point the finger at him. How much do you think your life is worth? After we'd visited all four men you had another four hundred pounds in that handbag. All of them had an opportunity to pass that money to you out of my sight'

`What does my signing that document mean?' she asked

quietly.

`That none of our conversation in this room can ever be passed on to another person. If it is, you can be prosecuted and sent to prison.'

`Charming. And to think I was once very fond of you.'

`You want to go to London, don't you? Start a new life, ea.rn your own living? You can do that — once this horrible business is cleared up. You know who Dr Berlin really is, don't you?'

`Yes.'

`Who is he then?'

In a very soft voice, not looking at Tweed, she told him.

Fifty-Four

From his own room Tweed asked Newman to come and see him immediately. He had hardly put down the receiver when the phone rang. It was Captain Palmer of Norwegian Intelligence, a very apologetic Palmer.

`I am covered with shame and confusion, Tweed. And I am so sorry not to have contacted you earlier.'

`What's gone wrong, Georg?'

`We have lost the
Nordsee
. That is not entirely accurate. The Coastguard never even found the cruiser. It has been quartering a vast area — continuing after dark. What will you think of us?'

`The same high opinion as before. And now it doesn't make any difference. I know exactly where it's heading for. My apologies to the Coastguard for wasting their time.'

`You have time for dinner with me tomorrow night?' `Next time, yes. I'm leaving almost at once. My thanks.'

Newman arrived as he broke the connection, waited for a few seconds, then began dialling Park Crescent. Newman stood by the curtained window while Tweed gave Monica very precise instructions, then paused as Newman gestured. He told Monica Newman wanted a word and collected his shaving gear from the bathroom while Newman carried on a brief conversation which he couldn't hear.

`We're leaving immediately,' he said as he emerged from the bathroom and Newman put down the phone. 'You're ready? Good. Butler and Nield are escorting Diana. They should be in the lobby waiting. We pay the bill, we leave.'

`Where for?'

`Fornebu.'

The lights were on inside the pilot's cabin aboard the Sea King as Tweed bent over the chart with Casey. Newman looked over his shoulder while Butler and Nield fussed over Diana, settling her in her seat in the passenger compartment.