The Power (58 page)

'You said you'd just returned from the Château Noir
with Gaunt in his BMW,' Tweed began. 'Would you mind
telling me what took place? You met Amberg?'

'Yes. That was an experience for Gaunt

She started to tell Tweed in detail everything that had
taken place. She recalled almost every word of the con
versation between the two men. Gaunt's expression,
Amberg's lack of it. Then at the end the warmth of
Amberg when he talked to her, the theory she had come
up with that the Swiss preferred the company of women.
Her descriptions were graphic.

Paula glanced at Tweed. He was leaning forward,
totally absorbed by what Jennie was saying. Paula sensed that Tweed was
seeing
the scene which had been enacted
in the Château Noir, so strong was his imagination. New
man was also gazing fixedly at their guest. As an ex-
foreign correspondent maybe his mind was also inside the Château
Noir.

'So,' Jennie concluded, 'after the hideous drive back when I thought we'd end up dead, Gaunt - at my request - dropped me outside the shops.'

There was a long silence. Tweed was still staring at her as she drank more wine, watching him over the rim of her glass. He eventually leaned back in his chair.

'You have remarkable powers of observation. So many
see but do not
observe
what they see.'

'Coming from you I'm taking that as a great compliment.'

'Just a statement of fact.'

'I think I've taken up enough of your time - and I could do with a hot shower.' She stood up, looked at Paula and
Newman. 'I do hope I haven't spoilt your meal - and thank you for putting up with my maunderings.' She
looked at Tweed. 'If we could have a quiet talk sometime at your convenience?'

'I'm in Room 419. It has a sitting area. Come and see
me any time you feel like it. So I know it's you beat a little
tattoo on the door. Like this.'

He drummed his fingers briefly on the table. Jennie
repeated the rhythm. Newman also stood up, collected
her coat.

'You don't want to go out into the fog again to find the main entrance. There's a short cut through the restaurant. I'll see you safely to your room.'

That's very kind of you.' She gave him her warmest
smile. 'I do still feel a bit shaky.'

Paula waited until they had disappeared. Then she
turned to Tweed.

'I don't believe one word she said.'

Tweed sipped some more wine before replying. He put
down his glass.

'That really is first-rate Riesling.'

'Translation, you don't agree. You think I'm being
catty. Maybe I am.'

'Not like you, so that I don't agree with. Give me your
reasons.'

'It's stretching the imagination to breaking point. In
Basle she gives you the same story. The famous Shadow
Man. We are quite a distance from Basle. Now the
Shadow Man turns up here on the edge of the Vosges in
Alsace. I don't go for it.'

'Have you forgotten?' he enquired gently. 'An impar
tial witness in Zurich - Old Nosy - described the Shadow Man leaving the building in the Altstadt where Klara was
murdered.'

'But we thought of an explanation for that. Jennie was
in the square out of sight, saw him leaving the building - which gave her the idea.'

'What motive could she have for inventing this men
ace? Also, how could she have known we were in this
brasserie?'

'Made it up on the spur of the moment when she came
in that door from the fog. No flies on our Jennie. She's got
mental reflexes as quick as lightning. I will give her that.'

'Possible. Yes, you could be right. And her motive?'

'She's after the film and the tape. I'm beginning to think
they must be very valuable to someone.'

Tweed nodded his agreement. Paula's theory had dis
turbed him. Women were so often more perceptive than
men about their own sex. Paula had produced a very
plausible theory.

'Then why the charade - rushing in here as though
scared stiff?' he questioned.

'She'd seen you were in here - maybe we didn't see her
starting to come in by the short cut. She then goes back into
the fog, puts on her act? Why? To get closer to you. She
thinks you'll lead her to the film and tape.'

'I can't fault your reasoning,' he admitted.

'Another thing,' Paula went on. 'When she was relating
her experience at the Château Noir - and I admit I was a
little jealous of how well she did it. Supposed to be my
forte, that. Sorry, I'm off the track. When she relayed what happened at the château, I think something she reported as
said - or happened - struck you with great force.'

'It did. I don't want to talk about it until I've had time to mull it over.'

'Bob is taking a long time.' She grinned wryly. 'Maybe he not only saw her safely to her room, but
inside it. He's
smitten with her.'

'You've underestimated him,' Tweed told her. 'I've seen
him do this before - pretend to have fallen for some
attractive girl. And all the time he's asking himself, "What's she after?"'

'Shush! Here he is. And with more feminine
company.. .'

Eve Amberg was laughing at something Newman had
said as they approached Tweed's table. She
had one hand looped inside his arm and used the other to brush away a
lock of her titian hair from her face. Paula studied her
outfit.

She wore a dark green jersey suit and a low-cut cream
blouse. Bet that cost a mint, thought Paula. Newman,
who was clearly enjoying himself, made a pantomime of introducing her. Sweeping one arm low, he used the other
hand to pull out a chair.

'Look at the jewel I found hiding upstairs,' he joked.

'Hello, Paula,' Eve greeted her, bent and kissed her on
the cheek. 'And a big hello to you,' she went on, turning
to Tweed, administering a lingering kiss on his left cheek.
'Bob caught me coming out of my room, thank God. I'm
an abandoned woman.'

'Sounds exciting,' Tweed chimed in, continuing the
game. 'You look like a glass of this excellent Riesling.'

'And he says that!' Eve addressed Paula. 'After I spent
half an hour on my make-up. Isn't he just too awful?'

'We can't take him anywhere,' Paula joked back.

'Wish me success.'

Eve raised the glass Tweed had filled, tasted the wine,
looked mischievously at Newman.

'At least the man knows his wine. This is delicious. I may be after more.'

'Why abandoned?' Tweed asked.

'The Squire. Again. He drives me here with his latest
girl friend, Jennie Blade. Then he ups and offs with her to
some unknown destination. For the whole afternoon.
Seriously, Tweed, it's good to see you again.'

'Likewise.' Tweed paused. 'What success do we wish
you?'

'It's Walter again. Walter Amberg, my dear disliked brother-in-law. I phoned him from here. I was going to
take a taxi. The Squire can drop dead, mooning over his
Jennie. So what reception do I get when I call Walter?
Not this afternoon. Out of the question. Have guests.
Some time when he's not so busy. Guests? I didn't believe
a word of it. He's avoiding me'. I'll catch him off guard - drive up there without phoning first.'

'Why the reluctance on his part?' enquired Tweed.

'Same reason as I told you before. He doesn't want to
hand over my money. But he will, he will, I promise you.
Face to face, he's putty in my hands, the little creep.'

'And Gaunt?'

'God knows where he is/ She glanced to her left when
someone entered the Brasserie. 'Speak of the devil, here
he is. After a drink, of course.'

Gaunt, still clad in his sports jacket and corduroy
trousers, had stormed in via the short cut from the hotel.
As he arrived his voice boomed out, causing the few
locals sitting at other tables to stare.

'I want a double Scotch, garçon
!
he roared in English.
'Tout le suite.
Over at that table.' He looked at Tweed
and Newman, turned back to the waiter he'd shouted at.
'No, make that three double Scotches. And get a move
on, I'm parched.'

The young waiter, who had smiled every time he passed
their table, glared at Gaunt. Newman called out in a loud
but polite voice.

'No, waiter, please. Only one double Scotch. Thank you.'

Gaunt marched up to their table. He stood for a
moment, surveying the glasses.

'Drinking local plonk? That's just for pansies. A Scotch would put some guts into you.'

Eve was furious. Her greenish eyes gleamed with a
venom Paula would never have suspected she was capable
of. Her full lips, treated with scarlet lipstick, tightened as
Gaunt hauled up a chair, joined them.

'Greg,' she raged, 'you will apologize immediately for using that term about my friends. Or go to hell.'

'I apologize immediately,' Gaunt mimicked as he sat
down. 'No offence meant,' he said in a more reasonable
tone. 'I take the word back. Unpardonable of me - but
I've had a helluva drive up and down the Vosges this
afternoon.'

You've also had a skinful already before you came in here, Newman thought. Whisky fumes drifted across the table. But Eve wasn't finished yet. She leaned towards
Gaunt.

'And, you ignorant hulk, it's
tout de suite.
You can't
even insult a waiter in correct French.'

'Sorry, sorry, sorry.' Gaunt sounded sincere this time.
'You're quite right, Eve. Again, my apologies to every
one. Had a strange experience this afternoon. Threw me off my balance. That doesn't often happen.'

His mood had changed suddenly. He had spoken the
last three sentences in a sober, almost grim tone. Tweed frowned, then spoke to him.

'Care to tell us about it? Get it out of your system?'

'Do you mind if I don't for the moment? Sorry, but I
need to mull it over.'

Paula stared at Gaunt in astonishment. He had used
almost precisely the same words Tweed had spoken
earlier. Moreover, it sounded as though, like Tweed, he was referring to the Château Noir.

Gaunt looked up as the waiter placed his drink before
him. He had his wallet out in a flash, added a generous tip
as he stared at the waiter.