The Power (43 page)

Norton waited as Sheen left the hotel entrance leading to a side street. The man in the Swiss suit strolled after Sheen.
Something would have to be done about him, Norton decided. He left by the same entrance in time to see the
Swiss climb in behind the wheel of a BMW. His own limo,
ordered in advance, was parked by the kerb. He climbed in
the back as Sheen entered a cab.

That cab is the target,' he ordered the driver, one of
Mencken's subordinates. 'Don't lose it. Just don't make it
obvious we are following it - we have company. The white
BMW. It will follow our target. You follow the BMW. One more thing you will not do. Just listen. Do
not
look at me in
your rear-view mirror. See me and you're dead. Now, for
Chrissakes, get moving
...'

Jennie's golden hair glowed in the subdued lighting of the
Hummer Bar. She sat on a bar stool and Tweed had to
admit to himself she looked stunning.

She wore a deep purple suit, the jacket open to reveal a
low-cut white blouse. Round her neck was a string of pearls
which disappeared in the dip between her breasts. On the
stool beside her lay a folded pale lilac coat.

She swung round off her stool to greet him. Her short
skirt exposed her long legs. She kissed him on the cheek and a faint waft of perfume drifted in the air.

'I hope I haven't kept you waiting,' Tweed remarked as
they hoisted themselves on to the stools.

'Not for one second. I like a man who is prompt. And I
arrived early. You look very fresh and eager.' Her blue
eyes were animated and she was giving him her full attention.

'I don't feel all that fresh,' Tweed confessed. 'I've been
on the go all day.'

'Time to relax then.' She squeezed his arm. 'Sorry I
didn't make it last night. But from my point of view that gave me this evening to look forward to.'

She was openly flirting. Tweed decided to hit her hard when the time came with his first question. He suggested
champagne. He rarely drank but he wanted her in a
co-operative mood - she might tell him more that way.

'Lovely,' she said. 'My favourite tipple. You'll join me?'

Tweed ordered two glasses of champagne from the waiting barman. Glancing along to the end of the bar he
saw Philip Cardon sitting on a stool, nursing a drink as he
read a paperback.

Jennie gazed in the same direction as Cardon looked up
from his paperback. She waved to him, then shook her
golden mane as though to say, 'No good. You were pipped
to the post.'

'Cheers!' said Tweed and they clinked glasses.

Jennie drank half the contents of her glass while Tweed
downed his in two long gulps. Before
leaving Paula he had
drunk a lot of water, hoping it would keep him sober.
Jennie finished off her drink.

'Another?' Tweed urged. 'You'll join me?'

'Sky's the limit.'

She grinned appreciatively at his using her own words
back at her. They consumed most of the refills before
Tweed threw the question without warning.

'When did you first know Julius Amberg was coming to
stay at Tresillian Manor?'

'But I didn't.' She looked at him, her eyes wide open
with innocence. 'Not until we were leaving for the cottage
at Five Lanes an hour or so before he arrived.'

'Then why did you think you were leaving at all?'

'The Squire said he had some friends coming he rented the manor to from time to time.'

'Did you ever talk to one of his servants, a girl called Celia Yeo? She was found dead at the foot of High Tor -
which is not far from Five Lanes. Someone pushed her over the abyss.'

'How perfectly horrible.' She played with the stem of her
empty glass. Tweed, you're some kind of investigator.
You know something? I'm beginning to get the idea you're
investigating me.'

'What I am investigating,' Tweed said grimly, 'is a series
of murders ...'

'You mean those poor people at Tresillian Manor?'

'Within the past twenty-four hours three more people have been murdered here in Zurich - one man and two women,'Tweed said grimly.

'You're frightening, Tweed. How does any of this con
cern me?'

'Where is Gaunt?' he asked.

'He's on his way to Basle ...'

'By plane?'

'No, he's driving the hired BMW there . . .'

'Why is he going to Basle?' Tweed demanded.

'On some sort of business. How the hell would I know? I
don't know anything about his affairs.'

'Don't get worked up,' he said quietly.

'Why the bloody hell shouldn't I?' Jennie blazed. 'I'm being interrogated like a suspect.'

'It's Gaunt I'm interested in, not you,' he said mildly.
'How long have you known him? Now don't jump down
my throat. I am trying to find out why those poor people
were brutally massacred.'

'I've known Squire Gaunt just over two weeks. Really, I
think I should go.'

'Stay a little longer - help me to find out who is behind
these hideous murders . ..'

Louis Sheen was startled to find after he had shown the cab
driver the address on the sheet of paper that they were
driving back along the route to the airport. The BMW with
the Swiss driver followed them carefully, keeping one
vehicle between himself and the cab. Behind him Norton's
driver adopted the same tactic.

Within ten minutes the cab turned off the main road and
pulled up outside a modern apartment block. Sheen paid him, climbed out carefully, manoeuvring the suitcase clamped to his wrist. Norton watched him go inside the
building, then gave his driver fresh instructions.

'There's a phone box a few hundred yards beyond where we are now. I have to make a call. Drop me outside it, then
wait for me. Keep your eyes staring ahead . . .'

Norton had seen the BMW park out of sight behind a big
truck which stood stationary. He realized that from this
point the Swiss could keep the exit to the apartment block
under surveillance. As his own car stopped he jumped out,
ran to the phone box, inserted coins, dialled the Baur-en-
Ville, asked for Marvin Mencken.

'Yes, who is this?' Mencken's distinctive drawl asked.

'It's me. I arranged for you to check on a competitor.'

He was referring to Tweed, but was careful not to
mention him by name.

'We know his exact whereabouts now,' Mencken
snapped.

'And?'

'Well, it
is
all arranged,' Mencken said irritably.

'You pick him up and escort him to the meeting?'

The word escort meant
exterminate.

'We're all set up for when he pokes his nose into the side-street. Don't worry any more about the competition.
He'll co-operate. End of problem.'

'Make damned sure it is. The end
. . .'

Norton slammed down the phone, went back to his car. It was all beginning to come together. Amberg had flown
to Basle - so the film and the tape must have been
transferred to the Zurcher Kredit Bank branch in that city.

He would fly that evening aboard flight SR 980, depart
ing Zurich 7.15p.m., arriving Basle 7.45p.m. Sheen
would find the message waiting for him in the apartment
with the air ticket to board the same flight, to take a cab on
arrival at Basle Airport to the Hotel Drei K
ö
nige. Norton,
under a different name, would be staying at the same hotel.

Earlier he had given Mencken instructions over the
phone to lead a team of men who would also fly to Basle.
They would stay at the Hilton. While he waited for Sheen
to emerge another cab had already drawn up outside the
apartment block. Norton glanced at the parked BMW. He had no doubt the Swiss inside it would follow Sheen to
Basle. There Norton himself would personally take care of
the nuisance.

Yes, everything was coming together. And within the hour Tweed, who was proving to be a potential menace, would be dead. Norton felt the adrenalin surging inside
him at the prospect of final action.

'Have you ever met Eve Amberg?' asked Tweed, casting
about for a significant link between Cornwall and Zurich.

'I'm pretty sure I saw that woman in Padstow,' Jennie
recalled as she sipped her third glass of champagne.

'I wasn't aware you knew her. If I'm right how would you
recognize her?' Tweed queried.

'When Gaunt was leaving her villa the other day - not
the day when you came up to me in the BMW - I saw her
very clearly saying goodbye to Gaunt at the front gate.'

'But surely that was after you'd seen her in Padstow?'

'That's right. I have a photographic memory for faces.'

'So when did you see Eve Amberg in Padstow? I suppose
you couldn't recall the exact day?'

'The day her husband arrived at Tresillian Manor just before the massacre. I was with Gaunt, having a quick drink at the Old Custom House early in the day. He went
outside to look at his wretched boat - I followed him after
finishing my drink. I saw Eve when she was hurrying away
from South Quay.'

'And you're positive it was Eve Amberg?' Tweed
pressed.

'I'm damned sure it was that woman. Damned sure.'

Tweed wondered why he thought she could be lying.
Was it the double reference to 'that woman'? Also, if true, what she had said placed Jennie in Padstow at the time.

'I must go now,' she said. To a party.' She had checked her watch. 'It's been lovely talking to you. Do let's do it again . . .'

He helped her on with the lilac coat but she said she'd
carry her scarf which had lain underneath the coat. As they
moved towards the door Cardon was already opening it, disappearing outside. Tweed opened the door, let Jennie
go out first. She dropped her scarf as he joined her and the ice-cold atmosphere of night hit them.

A cream Mercedes parked at the top of the street began to move towards them. The rear window was open. From
inside the barrel of a gun projected. Cardon, standing
against the wall, cannoned into Tweed. As he was falling to
the ground Tweed deliberately collided against Jennie,
who was still crouched low to retrieve her scarf. A hail of bullets thudded against the wail, sending chips of masonry
flying in all directions.