Rhinoceros (25 page)

'Armed with what, Roy?'

'A knife. They stabbed the warder seventeen times.
Some of the thrusts were because they enjoyed it, I sus
pect.'

'We're leaving the country tomorrow. I'd sooner not
say where at the moment. May phone you from abroad,'
Tweed suggested.

'Care to tell me how many of you are going?'

'Sooner not, if you don't mind.'

'Secret is the appropriate word for your lot. You take
care. Are you still feeling all right?' Buchanan asked.

'Fresh as a daisy.'

'Take good care of Daisy . . .'

No one in Tweed's team who had encountered Delgado
would have dreamt of his living conditions. On the fourth floor of one of the old warehouses in Reefers Wharf his living room was expensively furnished with tasteful sofas
and armchairs. The old floorboards were covered with a
pearl grey wall-to-wall fitted carpet. A large TV set was
hidden inside a mahogany cabinet.

His kitchen was equipped with the latest dishwasher,
a modern oven and cupboards. A large American fridge stood against one wall. His bedroom was lavishly fur
nished, as was his bathroom.

And no one in Tweed's team would have easily recognized
the giant. Clad in a lightweight suit from Aquascutum, he
gave the impression of being a successful businessman. He had visited a barber he had never patronized before,
remarking he had just returned from a safari in Africa.
Hence his long greasy hair. The barber had transformed his
appearance. His hair was now trimmed neat and short.

He had also purchased a rubber-tipped stick and prac
tised stooping when he walked, which made him seem a
shorter man. It was the following day when he received the expected phone call from
Heathrow at lunchtime.

'Donau here. I can tell you where they're going - flying
from Heathrow.'

Donau, the German name for Danube, was the code
name Delgado had given him. A short man, thirty years
old and frisky in his movements, Donau had watched Park
Crescent with a pair of field glasses while he crouched in a
shrubbery on the edge of Regent's Park.

Seeing the cars leave before eleven in the morning, with
Tweed inside one of them, he had jumped into his car
parked nearby at a meter. He had followed them to the
long-stay car park at Heathrow.

Carrying his case, which contained nothing but a selec
tion of his clothes, Donau followed Tweed and his team
with his frisky walk. Arriving in the concourse, he had
bought a ticket to Paris because there were no passengers
at the Air France counter. He had told the check-in girl
he would carry his small case onto the plane.

Walking more slowly - you always changed your way of walking when tailing a target - he was just in time to
see Tweed's team moving through the formalities. It was holiday time so when he held up his passport in the name
of Donaldson he was waved through.

His only discomfort was the heat. The sun had glared
down on him all the time he'd hidden behind the shrub
bery. He was sweating profusely when eventually he fol
lowed his target to the departure gate.
Hamburg.

He retreated immediately the way he had come. In a
toilet cubicle he smeared white chalk over his face. He was
trudging when he explained to officials near the exit that
he was feeling very ill, had decided to go home. A ghastly
stomach upset, but he had eaten lobster which had tasted
odd late the previous evening. After checking his suitcase and searching him thoroughly, the officials allowed him to
depart, after making a note of data on his passport.

Once outside, he had walked slowly to a phone — in case
he was under observation. He had then called Delgado.

'So where the hell are they flying to?' Delgado had
snapped.

'Hamburg. I saw them enter the departure lounge.'

'This is good. You do well. Stay there and I arrive. We
catch later flight to Hamburg. Moment - I check airline
table

Delgado had a collection of international rail and airline
timetables. After a few minutes he gave Donau instructions
where to wait. Then he called Oscar Vernon. Pink Shirt
answered immediately.

'I will come with you,' Oscar said. 'Now I have the time
and number of the flight I will phone Heathrow to book three tickets to be kept for collection. The instruction is
the same. Kill Lisa, kill Tweed . . .'

'Lisa left clinic. We lose her . . .'

'Where Tweed goes, so does Lisa. We will find them.'

'B and P have made it,' Delgado informed his boss. He was referring to Barton and Panko escaping from prison. 'I tell them go express train Newcastle. From Newcastle ferry go to Hamburg. I give address Hotel Renaissance, Grosse Bleichen.'

Unlike his fractured English, Delgado spoke fluent Ger
man. It was a talent he shared with Oscar, but the latter had
been careful not to let Delgado know this - he might later
hear Delgado say something in German he didn't wish
Oscar to understand. Also, the Renaissance was where Oscar would stay when he arrived.

'You have done well,' he said.

'We have no defenders,' Delgado protested.

'Defenders' was the code word they used when phoning
each other for weapons.

'I have a friend in Bremen,' Oscar assured him. 'I
will phone him, tell him to bring defenders to Hamburg
main rail station. Bremen is close to Hamburg. I must
go now.'

Oscar did not think it wise to explain that at Bremen,
being a port, weapons were smuggled in from arriving
freighters. He kept to a minimum vital data passed on
to subordinates.

D
elgado put down the phone, went into the bathroom, looked at himself in the mirror. He did now look like a successful businessman. Once again he wondered who was the man Oscar took
his
orders from.

CHAPTER 15

Hamburg.

Tweed and Paula walked out of the Fuhlsbuttl Airport and the heat hit them like walking into a brick wall. The
limo from the Four Seasons was waiting for them. The young chauffeur was pleasant, welcoming them with a
warm smile. Soon they were well inside the great city and Paula stared out, admiring the stately villas as they drove
down Rothenbaum-chaussee.

Despite the fact that it was late June the plane had been more than half empty so they had been able to talk without
any fear of being overheard.

'We were followed at Heathrow,' Paula commented.
'Right up to the departure lounge.'

'I know,' Tweed replied. 'A small man carrying a small case. Quite professional. He varied his walk - sometimes
bouncing along and then walking slowly. We could have
a reception party waiting for us in Hamburg.'

'Have you any idea yet who is behind all this?'

'None at all . . .'

Mark Wendover had wandered down the aisle from
behind them and jogged the tray of Tweed, sitting in the
aisle seat.

'I'm so sorry, sir,' he apologized.

'That's all right. Been a smooth flight so far.'

'I spent hours, days at Reefers Wharf watching for Delgado to return - so I could identify where he lived.

He never reappeared. Mentioned this to Harry and he
said I should have checked the street at the back of the
warehouse. The backs have fire escapes — so he thinks
Delgado spotted me and used the fire escape from then
on. Enjoy the flight . . .'

They were driving down the Neuer Jungfernstieg when Paula caught her first glimpse of the Binnenalster, the
smaller of two lakes in the centre of the city. She glowed
with delight and excitement as she gazed at the blue water, rippling and glittering in the sunlight. Single-decker
ferries
were shuttling back and forth, some heading back for the
landing stage at Jungfernstieg.

'We're just about there,' said Tweed.

As they alighted on the pavement in front of the Four
Seasons hotel a motorcyclist, who had trailed behind them
since they left the airport, sped past and disappeared.
Tweed shrugged as they entered the spacious reception
hall and they registered.

'It's a long time since we've had the pleasure of seeing
you, Mr Tweed,' the receptionist greeted him.

'We both have suites on the third floor,' Tweed told
Paula. He lowered his voice. 'Let's take a quick look
round. For generations this hotel was run by the same
family. It's been taken over by a foreign chain. I just want
to see if they've had the sense to preserve its wonderful
character.'

As they strolled into a spacious sitting area a curi
ous incident occurred. One of the elevators reached the
ground floor. The doors opened. Inside stood a late-
middle-aged man of medium height, well-built and wear
ing gold-rimmed glasses. His eyes met Tweed's briefly,
then he stayed inside, pressed a button and the elevator
climbed to the second floor.

'That was odd,' Paula remarked.

'Probably forgotten something in his room.'

He showed her a gallery with portraits in gilt frames hung
from the walls. Luxuriously covered chairs were placed close to the walls so people could sit and take their ease.
He then took her through another spacious room, where
men and women sat drinking, and into the Grill Room.

'This is magnificent,' said Paula. 'I wouldn't mind
eating up there.'

She pointed to a balcony on the first floor overlooking
the main restaurant. On their way back to the eleva
tors Tweed peered into a smaller room with tables laid.
'The Cafe Condi,' he explained. 'More than a cafe -
you can get lunch here. The service is excellent and the
food very good. I think we should go up to our suites
now. I want to phone Dr Kefler, the financial genius
as Keith Kent called him. The sooner we see him the better . . .'

They were passing reception when they saw Marler
registering. He had come from the airport on his own
by taxi. He looked up, saw them, looked away as though
he didn't know them.

'Did you say I'm in Room . . . ?' he called out in a loud
voice to the receptionist.

He had now told them where they could find him.
Tweed was shown into his suite while another porter
took charge of Paula. Alone, he walked to the balcony
and stood there a moment. The trees which lined the far side of the road were in full leaf but, on the third floor,
he could see over the tops and had a clear view of the Binnenalster. Peace.