Rhinoceros (34 page)

'Yes. We'll turn the trap on them.'

'It's not to do with the bullet they fired at me last
night?'

'Partly, yes. But also it's strategy . . .'

Paula was sitting beside Tweed as he drove off and
headed for their destination. In the back Marler was
making Lisa laugh again. They had travelled some distance
and Tweed had been glancing frequently in his rear-view mirror.

'We have company,' he whispered. 'Two BMWs are following Newman, keeping their distance. I'm sure Bob
also has spotted them.'

'What about Harry Butler and Pete Nield?' Paula won
dered.

'They were waiting on the other side of the street, across
from the hotel - shielded by parked cars. As soon as I drove
off they jumped into the back of Bob's Merc.'

'What are you two whispering to each other?' Lisa called
out. 'Or is it something rather personal?' she suggested
cheerily.

'Coming from you two canoodling in the back that's a
real joke,' Paula called back and laughed.

'At least we are behaving ourselves,' Lisa shot back.

'And here,' Tweed said in his normal voice, 'is Fernsehturm. I've seen it before but I don't think you have, Paula.'

She was already staring up out of the window in amaze
ment. Soaring up above them was a thick white needle-like
tower, climbing up to an incredible height. Perched at its
summit was a wide observation crest, circular like the
needle below it. At the very top was a red-and-white
signals mast.

'The revolving restaurant is up there,' said Tweed. 'Takes about an hour to complete one revolution - so
you're not aware of any movement. I'm parking here,
illegally.'

They stepped out of the car on to the pavement and the
sun burned down, furnace-like heat even in mid-morning.
Marler held out his hand and Tweed gave him the key.
Lisa looked at him.

'Aren't you coming with us?'

'No. I'm staying with the car . . .'

Tweed led the way along a concrete path, crossing
trimmed grass and then running round the base of the
Turm. His legs were moving like pistons and Paula won
dered why he was in such a hurry. Glancing back, she saw
Newman's car parked a short distance behind Tweed's.
Bob and Mark were standing on the pavement but there
was no sign of Harry or Pete. They must be hunched down
out of sight in the back she speculated. Why?

After a long walk they reached the entrance. Tweed
bought three tickets and the girl receptionist told him a car was just leaving. They entered, had the car to themselves. Paula tensed, prepared for a rocket-like elevation like the
one she had experienced in New York - going up the
Empire State Building. She was wrong. The car ascended
steadily without a blast-off. The girl operator looked at Tweed.

'It was the cafe you wanted?' she said in English.

'It was . . .'

The doors opened and they walked straight into the
cafe, a spacious circular room with viewing windows, an
upraised section in the centre with cloth-covered tables.
Tweed stepped up, chose a table on the far side. A
waitress appeared the moment they were seated and he
ordered coffee.

'You take these,' Lisa said, producing a compact pair of
binoculars from her shoulder bag. 'They're very power
ful.'

'What about you?'

'I have another pair. See.' She looked at Paula. 'We can
share . . .'

Tweed left the platform, stepped down on the far side,
gazed below, focused the binoculars. Paula and Lisa
followed him. Paula drew in breath as she stared down the
sheer drop. The two parked Mercedes looked like toys.

'This is a devil of a height,' she commented. 'Good job I don't suffer from vertigo.'

She took the binoculars Lisa handed her, focused them, saw Newman's face, quite passive as he stood still. Mark
was pacing back and forth. No sign of the two BMWs
which had followed them. No sign of their occupants. She
remarked on this to Tweed.

'They'll be taking their time, planning their approach.
I would, in their shoes. Let's go drink some coffee . . .'

Paula remained standing while she drank. She was
gazing at the view through the windows on the opposite
side. Beyond parks with green trees a large stretch of blue
water, glittering in the sunlight, spread out. Tiny white triangles, which were yachts, dotted the blue surface.

'Is that the Elbe?' she asked.

'No, not with yachts on it. That's the Aussenalster,' he
said, standing beside her. 'The outer
alster.
"Binnen" is
"inner". Why am I saying this? You know German.'

'It's heaven,' she said dreamily. 'Pure heaven.'

Lisa had taken her coffee, put it down on a table near
where they had looked down. She was standing by the window. She called out urgently, peering down through
her binoculars.

'I've spotted Pink Shirt. Remember him? At Reefers
Wharf. Now he's wearing a bright yellow one. Could he
be directing an operation? His fat face looks savage, he's
just checked his watch . . .'

'Where?' Tweed was beside her, Paula on her other
side.

'See that road curving over to the right - well away from
our cars? Half behind a tree on the pavement.'

'Got him.' Tweed was peering through the binoculars
she'd handed him. Paula now had the other pair. 'Yes,
that's him,' Tweed agreed, 'keeping well away from the
action. And I agree - he looks as though he is directing an operation.'

'Never expected to see that bastard over here,' Paula
remarked. She moved next to Tweed as Lisa walked several
yards away. 'Could he be Rhinoceros?' she said quietly.

'Possible,
but we simply don't know.'

'Here they come,' called out Lisa. 'Give me the glasses.
Thanks.' She didn't change the focus and her next words
were almost hissed. 'Simply don't believe it. Two men,
carrying sledgehammers. Barton and Panko. The thugs
who followed me in London. Just escaped them in Bedford
Square.'

'Don't like the look of those Balkan-type thugs who are
coming,' said Paula, binoculars pressed against her eyes.

'Shouldn't we go down and help?' Lisa demanded.

'How could you — against that lot?' Paula asked.

'Look what Marler gave me.' She had opened her
shoulder bag. When Paula looked inside she saw a 6.35mm
Beretta pistol. 'And he gave me ammo,' Lisa went on.

'Lisa has a Beretta,' Paula warned Tweed.

'We stay here,' Tweed ordered in a strong voice. 'Newman
has ordered on no account is there to be a shooting party. Dead bodies in the city would pose a problem
for Kuhlmann, who has enough on his hands.' He looked
down. 'They'll cope.'

As Barton and Panko, leading the assault, approached, holding their sledgehammers, with the foreign thugs not far behind, Newman remained where he was, his arms
folded. Mark attached something to the fingers of his right
hand. Knuckleduster.

Barton reached the second car, was starting to lift his weapon when the rear door was flung open on the pave
ment side. It slammed into him, knocking him off balance
as Butler jumped out. His right foot, booted, swung up like
a spring being released, hit Barton a savage blow between
the legs. Barton dropped the sledgehammer, groaned in
agony, bent forward. Butler grabbed his hair, swung him
round, rammed his head against the car. It sounded as
though his skull had cracked.

Panko dropped his sledgehammer. A long-bladed knife
appeared in his hand. He was grinning.
Newman had
skipped to the side of his attacker. His right hand, stiffened,
struck Panko on the side of his scrawny neck. Karate chop.
Panko dropped, lay motionless close to the unconscious
Barton.

Then it became a melee as the foreign thugs rushed forward. Marler appeared behind them. Earlier, seconds
before they parked, he'd seen an old metal railing sagging
away from the pavement, probably hit by a car. His gloved hand had tugged at a rail, twisted it, forced it free. Running
up behind the thugs, he stooped, swung the iron rail at the back of the legs of one thug, hitting him behind the knees.
The thug screamed, sagged, wriggled on the pavement.
Marler administered the same treatment to another thug.

A ferocious-looking bandit was wielding a vicious machete.
He swung it behind him for the blow which would have
taken Mark's head off his shoulders. Mark's knuckleduster
smashed into his exposed face, broke his nose, a cheekbone.
Blood streamed from his face. Mark hadn't finished - he
hammered the knuckleduster into his jaw, broke that. Pete Nield had jumped out of the other side of the car, plunged
into the gang. Two stood close together for protection, their
backs to him. He took a swift, firm hold of them by their
hair, jerked them apart, jerked them together, the heads
colliding with tremendous force. Both men sank to the
pavement.

Another bandit, holding a knife, had come up behind
Newman, was preparing to drive the knife into his back.
Marler hoisted his iron bar, brought it down, hitting the
elbow of the thug, breaking it. There was a scream of
pain, the knife clattered on the pavement. Newman swung round, hit the thug in the face. He staggered back, his right
arm limp. Newman followed him, hit him again, then once
more. He toppled over backwards.

The first bandit Marler had dealt with was still scream
ing, wriggling on the pavement.

'You're making too much noise, buddy,' Mark told
him.

Stooping, he hit the culprit on the side of his head with the knuckleduster. The wriggling stopped, the bandit lay
motionless, silent.

Newman rubbed his hands together, looked all round.
No more. And there was not a single pedestrian in sight.
He remembered reading in a magazine in the hotel lounge
that an erotic exhibition was being held. One day only. This day. He pictured long crocodile queues waiting for
ever to get into the place.

'Clearance time. Anyone know where they parked the
BMWs?'

'Just round the corner,' Marler said. 'Follow me.*

'Harry,' Newman called out. 'Gloves. We're fetching
the ambulances.'

Harry held up his hands, covered with latex gloves. He followed Marler and Newman. The cars were parked only
a few yards out of sight. And in each they'd left the ignition
keys. For a quick getaway, Newman guessed.