Rhinoceros (41 page)

'Wait for me,' he told the others while he paid the
driver.

He sprinted up the steps, followed closely by Paula and
Newman. Heading for the elevators, he
saw a familiar figure seated in a chair at the back of the lounge. Otto Kuhlmann had a uniformed police sergeant by his side.

An elevator was waiting, its doors open. Kuhlmann
jumped up. As they entered the elevator the German
slipped in behind them, waited until the doors had closed.
His tone of voice was as grim as his expression.

'Your suite. I'd like everyone to join me there.'

'What has happened?' Newman asked.

Kuhlmann didn't reply. Instead he stared up at the
ceiling of the elevator. When they entered the suite Tweed waved the German towards a sofa but instead he sat in an
upholstered chair, waited until everyone was seated.

'I fear this may come as a shock to you, but I always come
straight out with it. I believe you know Mark Wendover, an American. He was shot dead outside the hotel. With a
rifle. Explosive bullet.'

'Oh, no!'

Paula covered her face with her hands. Tweed poured a glass of water, held it for her while she drank, trembling.
She looked up at him gratefully after a short time, took
hold of his sleeve. He smiled down at her, refilled the
empty glass she held out with her other hand. She drank more, then spoke.

'He was such a decent man,' she croaked throatily.

'One of the best,' said Newman, who had sat beside her
on the couch.

She became aware that Kuhlmann, seated above them
in his chair, was watching her closely. She stiffened, sat
erect.

'I'm all right now,' she said in a firmer voice.

'I have to ask some questions,' Kuhlmann began. 'Paula,
it might be better if you went to your room. Stay if
you wish.'

'That's the last place I want to be now. On my bloody
own.'

'Where was he shot from?' Tweed, asked, still stand
ing.

'Across the street. The marksman probably hid behind
one of the cars parked by the Alster. We've checked. Found
nothing.'

Standing behind Kuhlmann, Tweed frowned at Paula. She understood his message immediately. Say nothing
about the break-in at the Zurcher Kredit - that would
lead to Kuhlmann demanding that they hand over the vital
blue book Mark had brought them which was needed by
Kent to crack the code.

'Any idea of the time he was shot?' Tweed went on.

'A couple of hours ago. The doorman called the police immediately. He claims he didn't see anything suspicious
before the shooting. Tweed, I need to hear all you know
about Wendover - who, incidentally, was carrying
a
CIA identity folder. So I'm anticipating all hell will break loose
when the news reaches Washington.'

Tweed paced around, told Kuhlmann most of the story
about how they'd come to know Mark Wendover. He emphasized he'd left the CIA some time ago, had set up
his own detective agency in
New York.

'That covers the whole story,' he concluded.

'So,' Kuhlmann began, 'you were having dinner in the
Fischereihafen and your team was outside, keeping an
eye on things. Why would Wendover come back here on his own?'

'As I've explained, Mark had maverick habits. I gather
he decided to come back to see what was happening here.
After all, it is our base for this operation in Hamburg.'

'And if you had to make a guess, who would you say was behind this murder?'

'Oskar Vernon and his gang spring to mind. Oskar's moved to the Atlantic. Maybe he didn't want to be any
where near here if they got the chance to kill one of us off.'

Kuhlmann stood up. He looked at Tweed as though he
didn't believe he had the whole story. Which he hadn't.
Then he pursed his lips before speaking again.

'I need someone to go to the morgue to confirm the
identity of Wendover. It's not a pretty sight.'
'I'll go,' Newman responded, jumping up.
'Thank you. Then please come downstairs with me and
I'll introduce you to Sergeant Brand. He was sitting beside me in the lounge and will escort you. I want to check that
pavement by the Alster. Never met a detective yet who
was as thorough as I'd like . . .'

'Why do you think they shot Mark?' Paula asked when
she was alone with Tweed.

'My guess is he missed blotting out one camera - the
one up on the balustrade on the first floor outside the
building. Difficult to see by daylight. Probably impos
sible to detect after dark. Also, I think Oskar's mood has
changed. He has become more ruthless, more audacious.
He's resorted to picking us off one by one. But someone
may have given him a specific order to target Mark -because they're livid that the blue book has gone. Take
your choice.'

'Strange that it occurred while we were at the fish
restaurant. I wonder if the dinner was a lure to get us
out of the way.'

'That thought had occurred to me, but I rejected it. They'd hardly foresee Mark would turn up here on his own.' Tweed decided to change the subject, to get her
mind off what had happened. 'What was your reaction to
our hosts tonight?'

'I liked Victor Rondel. I think he's very intelligent and
has a hypnotic personality. I thought he was fun.'

'I noticed.'

'Was I that obvious? Oh, Lord, I'll have to learn to
control myself more. Do sit down.'

He sat on the couch in the position Newman had
occupied and she squeezed his hand, then released it.
He drank more water, urged her to do the same.

'You weren't obvious at all,' he assured her. 'It's just
that I know you so well. Did you enjoy the meal?'

'Best I've had in ages. Marvellous restaurant.'

'And what did you think of Rondel's companion?'

She hesitated, leant her head back against a cushion.
She took her time to answer.

'Weird the way Rondel kept referring to him as "my
partner" and never gave us a name. Highly
secretive.'

'I noticed that. Maybe we'll learn more tomorrow when we visit his mansion on the way to Blankenese. He struck
me as being exceptional, the sort of person you rarely come
across. What about the relationship between them?'

'Good question. Difficult to come up with a good
answer.'

'On the surface, I had the impression they are equal partners. But, thinking it over, the relationship could be
different. I should be able to be more positive after we've
seen them tomorrow. And now, I think it's time you went
to bed.'

'Frankly, I'm dropping. See you in the morning . . .'

Newman returned a little later. He walked over to a
cabinet, opened it up, took out a bottle of Scotch.

'Excuse me, but I need a stiff drink.'

'Like that was it?' Tweed said.

'I can talk frankly, now Paula's gone.' He poured a
strong neat drink, swallowed half of it, sat down. 'It wasn't
a picnic.'

'Tell me.'

'Poor Mark. The left side of his face - and his head -
had been blown away. Explosive bullet, Kuhlmann said.
He was right. To identify him I had to look at the other
side of his face and head. Not a pretty sight, as Kuhlmann
pointed out.'

Tweed had sat down at the small table near the sofa
Newman had sunk into. He picked up the mobile phone
Paula had left in her state of shock. He pressed the numbers
of Pete Nield's mobile from memory.

'Tweed here. Where are you?'

'Parked no more than a score of yards from your hotel.'

'Can you come up to my suite? Right away. See you . . .'

'You're looking very grim suddenly,' Newman com
mented.
'I'd
say you've just taken a major decision. Have
you?'

'Yes. Wait until Nield gets here.' Within five minutes
Nield was tapping on the door, entering the suite. Tweed
told him to sit down, asked him if he'd like a drink. Nield, cool and calm as always, sat down, crossed his legs and shook his head.

'I'm driving. And I'm sorry about Mark. Very sorry.'

'How did you know it was Mark they shot?'

'I followed you into the hotel when you got back from
the fish restaurant. You didn't see me. When Kuhlmann had disappeared in the lift with you I went over to the
sergeant who had been with Kuhlmann, showed him my
identity folder, asked him what had happened. I only knew
it had been Mark when the sergeant described what he'd
been wearing. Now, what do you want me to do?'

'Go back to Butler. Tell him to be ready to bring over
here the armoury Marler obtained. Stun grenades, tear gas,
smoke grenades and all the weaponry - except what Harry
needs for himself.
What about guns? Tell me again."

'Three Uzis, several automatic rifles, a whole array of
handguns. Lord knows what else.'

'We'll need all three Uzis here when the time comes,
plus the rest. Where is Marler staying?'

'He's moved into the Renaissance with us now Oskar
has left.'

'Consult Marler. He may want to make extra purchases.
We shall be outnumbered, I suspect. So we make up for
that in firepower. That's it.'

'Right. On my way . . .'

'You're planning all-out war,' Newman commented.
'Was it the killing of Mark that stimulated you to arrange
all this?'

'I suppose it was a factor.' Tweed stood up, started
pacing. 'It underlined how vicious Oskar Vernon is. And
I think I'm beginning to sort out the good side from the evil. I'll be more certain after our meeting with Rondel and his partner tomorrow.'

Newman had opened the door to leave when he bowed,
turned to Tweed, winked.

'You have a visitor. Don't stay up all night.'

Lisa walked into the suite as Newman left, closing the door carefully behind him. Tweed stared as he stood up.
She was wearing a close-fitting strapless white evening dress. Round her waist was a green lizard belt with a lock
ornament dangling from it. She carried a green evening
bag no larger than a foolscap envelope.