The Power (25 page)

Arthur Beck, in his forties, was slim and plump-
cheeked. His most arresting features were his alert grey
eyes beneath dark brows and his strong nose above a trim
moustache. Of medium height, he moved his hands and
feet quickly, his complexion was ruddy and he wore a
smart grey suit, a blue striped shirt and a blue tie. Tweed
quickly introduced him to Philip Cardon: Beck had met the
others before and knew Bob Newman well. He led the
way, talking rapidly to Tweed and Paula in perfect English.

'We're bypassing Passport Control and Customs. I have
limos outside waiting to take you wherever you want to go.'

The Hotel Schweizerhof opposite the Hauptbahnhof. It
will be our official residence but we won't actually be staying there. We'll be at the Hotel Gotthard just behind
the Schweizerhof,' said Tweed.

'You are taking great precautions, my friend,' commented Beck. 'This must be a very serious affair.'

'A matter of life and death - for all of us. I'll tell you what's happened while we're driving into Zurich.'

'Our bags,' Paula intervened. They'll be delivered to
the carousel. . .'

'We travelled first class and were the only passengers,'
Tweed said quickly.

'Easy.' Beck grinned. He spoke to an aide in plain
clothes who had walked alongside them. As the man dashed
off he explained. 'I've told him to collect all the first-class
luggage off the carousel. He'll bring it to the cars .. .'

They were escorted via a devious route which bypassed
Passport Control and Customs. Striding across the concourse, Beck guided them to a convoy of three waiting
stretched Mercedes, all black in colour. Near by uniformed
motorcyclist police waited, straddling their machines.
Beck gestured towards them as he opened the door of the
first car.

'Outriders. Our escort. After receiving your message I
decided to take no chances. I drop you outside the
Schweizerhof?'

'Yes, please,' said Tweed. 'Later we make our way on
foot one by one to the Gotthard. I've booked rooms in
both hotels
...'

It was a twenty-minute drive from the airport into the
centre of Zurich. Beck sat next to Tweed in the rear of the limo while Paula was seated alongside Tweed. The driver
wore civilian clothes, as did the tough-looking individual in
the front passenger seat.

Newman, Butler, Nield and Cardon occupied seats in the limo behind them and the third car was full of more
men in plain clothes. The outriders on motorcycles led the
way into the Swiss city while two more brought up the rear.

Beck listened in silence as Tweed told him concisely
everything that had happened to them - including the
bombing of SIS headquarters in London and the events in Cornwall. Frequently the Swiss glanced back through the
rear window. At one moment he interrupted Tweed for the
first time.

'Excuse me, I have to radio a message to the rear car. We
were followed from the airport by an Impala - significant,
possibly, that it is an American car...'

Picking up the microphone slung from the side of the car
he spoke in Switzer-Deutsch, the dialect understood only
by the Swiss. Tucking the microphone back on its hook, he
explained after again glancing through the rear window, 'I
ordered interception. The third car has just stopped that
Impala. They'll think up some fictitious traffic regulations
the driver's broken to delay him. And all these cars are
bulletproof. Your story, Tweed, is very strange, but of course I believe you. It might interest you to know there
are too many Americans arriving in Switzerland -
especially in Zurich.'

Too many?' Paula leaned forward. 'How do you know
that?'

Beck smiled cynically. 'Oh, we do know what is going on
in our country. In late February you might expect a few
businessmen, even the odd wealthy tourist from the States.
But these men - and we don't like the look of them - all
carry diplomatic passports. From my headquarters in
Berne I've already phoned their embassy and complained
that they're exceeding their complement of diplomatic
staff. The Ambassador, an old friend - and one of the few
President March has not replaced by some of his cronies
and backers - was embarrassed. I found it significant. He
told me these men were soon to be routed to other
embassies in Europe. Both of us knew he was not telling
the truth.'

'So Zurich could be dangerous?' Paula suggested.

'Yes, it could.' He smiled again. 'But not as dangerous as
Britain, from what Tweed has told me. How are you going
to proceed, Tweed? Or is that top secret?'

'Not at all. I want to locate three men. Joel Dyson - I
think it may have all started with him. Then Special Agent
Barton Ives and Cord Dillon. One of them has to tell me what the blazes is happening.'

'I do find' - Beck paused to ruminate - 'the most
unexpected of those three people to be running is this
Barton Ives. FBI - why should someone be after his
blood?'

That mystifies me too,' Tweed admitted.

'A pity you don't know what this Norton looks like,'
Beck commented.

'I gather no one knows that. Which I find sinister . ..'

Tweed, carrying his bag, led the way into the Schweizerhof,
where he had stayed on previous visits. The same con
cierge greeted him warmly. As they went up in the lift after
registering, Tweed told Paula to come and see him
urgently when she'd left her bag in her room.

'I have room 217,' he reminded her as he left the elevator.

She was tapping on his door within three minutes of his
arriving in the large corner room overlooking the main
station at the front. The side windows looked down on the
famous Bahnhofstrasse - the street of great banks and
some of the most luxurious shops in the world. He went out
of the spacious living-cum-bedroom into the lobby to let
Paula in.

'I'm afraid I've got rather a lot for you to do,' he said.

'Fire away!'

'All of us must leave in our rooms here convincing evidence that this is where we are staying. Toothbrushes,
toothpaste, shaving kit, et cetera in the bathrooms .. .'

'The ones we're using now would be most con
vincing ...'

'Agreed. Plus about half our clothes in the wardrobes.
Now that means I want you to ...'

'Go out and buy six toothbrushes, six tubes of paste,
five electric shavers, more make-up for myself,' she
interjected.

'Why more make-up?'

'Because you expect to find some in a room occupied by a woman. While I'm buying I'll have to collect a load
of large carrier bags. Presumably we need those to sneak
out of here to the Gotthard with the clothes we take. I
foresee one other problem.'

'Which is?' Tweed enquired.

'We would look suspicious turning up at the Gotthard
without suitcases. I know - two of the men wait with
new suitcases we buy in the men's lavatory down in Shopville.' Paula peered out of the side window at the escalator leading down into the underground shopping
centre. Two more of us, say Bob and Philip, can take
the carriers with the clothes into the lavatory and they
can be put inside the cases in cubicles.'

'I don't know why I bother planning things like this
out,' Tweed said, raising his hands in mock frustration.
'Not when I have you with me.'

'I'll be away for a while on my shopping expedition,'
she warned. 'It would look funny if I bought six of
everything at one shop.'

'I'm not letting you go alone,' Tweed said firmly. 'I'm calling Butler to accompany you as bodyguard.'

'Harry is a perfect choice. And he can help to carry
my purchases. What about the suitcases?'

'I'll phone Newman and Cardon. They can buy the suitcases and call me back when they've done the job.
Then they can get coffee at Sprüngli and call me again. By
then you and Harry should have done your shopping. I'll
fix a precise time for Pete Nield and myself to meet you,
collect the carriers and make the switch in Shopville. Have
you got enough Swiss money?'

'You gave me sufficient at London Airport to go out and
buy an outfit Elizabeth Taylor would be happy to wear.
Come to think of it, I rather fancy a Chanel suit,' she teased
him and left the room.

Tweed summoned Newman and Cardon and gave them
their instructions. As they left, the phone rang. Tweed
frowned, lifted the receiver cautiously.

'Yes. Who is it?'

'Beck here,' the familiar voice opened. 'I have bad news.
Remember that Impala my men stopped on the way from
the airport? They found him just ending a conversation on
a mobile phone. He
undoubtedly warned his chief that a competitor had arrived.' Beck was phrasing his message
carefully, knowing it was passing through a hotel switch
board. 'You might have company from the opposition earlier than you expected. Keep in touch. I'm staying in
Zurich.'

'Thank you.'

Tweed put down the phone with a sense of foreboding.

16

The move to the Hotel Gotthard, only a short distance
behind the Schweizerhof, had been completed by eight in
the evening. Tweed arrived in his room, threw back the lid
of his case, went down to the bar. He ordered a glass of champagne, paid for it and began exploring the hotel.

With the glass in his hand he appeared to be looking for
someone. He tipped some of the contents into a plant pot and continued checking on the few people who sat in the
lounge area. No one suspicious anywhere, no sound of an American voice.

Strolling slowly along he passed a man sitting in a chair
reading a paper. A slim individual, smartly dressed, he glanced up, folded his paper, followed Tweed to a quiet area near the cheaper restaurant fronting on the Bahnhof
strasse.

'Excuse me, sir. Have you a light?'

Tweed tensed, turned round slowly. The slim man was
clean-shaven, his dark hair slicked back over his head. About thirty years old, he held a cigarette in his hand.
Tweed continued staring at him as he reached for the
lighter he carried for other people's cigarettes.

As he ignited it the man leaned forward, holding one
hand to shield the flame although there wasn't a current of
air in the place. The man took his time getting his cigarette
lit and it was then Tweed saw the open folder held in the palm of the extended hand, the printing inside below a
photo of himself.