The Power (28 page)

'Why should they be bankers' wives?' Newman asked.

'Just look at them. Dripping with pearls, three or four
solid gold bangles round their wrists. Dripping with
wealth.' She looked at Tweed. 'What's next on the programme - and why did we register in our own names at
the Gotthard?'

To smoke out the enemy,' Tweed said, his expression
determined. 'This is the battlefield. When we leave here we'll go to police headquarters, hope to find Beck there. Philip Cardon wants a weapon. Then we'll take a taxi up
to that villa in the Dolder area in the hope I can talk to
Eve Amberg. That could be interesting...'

* * *

Sara Maranoff walked into the Oval Office, closed the
door, locked it. She ran a finger over her lips as she tried to
assess her boss's mood. Bradford March was twisted side
ways in his chair, staring out of the windows, his thick lips
pressed together. A black stubble covered his jaw and she
didn't like the look of his expression. She took a deep
breath as he turned to glare at her.

'Bad news won't wait, Brad. I just took a call from
Zurich - whoever it was cleverly insisted on speaking to me. You may be glad about that.'

'More bad news I can do without. Get to it. Norton
telling us he hasn't achieved one friggin' thing?'

'Norton is holding on the line, but this call came from a
no-name guy. Said he had a couple of items you might not
want him to go public with - not how he phrased it but
that's what he meant. He's demanding twenty million
dollars for them - whatever they may be. Could be a
crank...'

She was watching March's reaction closely. The Presi
dent leaned forward, folded his hairy-backed thick fingers,
rested them on the desk. He had a look of thunder and she
was careful to keep quiet.

'You traced the number he was calling from?' snapped
March.

'Tried to. He wasn't on the line long enough. All they
could get was a Zurich call. Is there something I should
know, Brad?'

'You should put Norton through
now
...'

'Norton here, Chief. I've taken personal control of the
operation on the spot. I'm in Zurich. I've traced Tweed
and company, got the bastard in my sights.'

'Handle that your own way.' March's tone became
tough. This is an order. Track down Dyson, Ives and Dillon. Take them out. Got it? No more friggin' around.
J
ust do it...
'

He slammed down the phone, stood up and began
prowling. Wearing an open-necked shirt which exposed his
hairy chest he was also clad in jeans and sneakers - the
outfit he wore when mixing with the 'common folk'.

'What about this crank?' Sara pressed. 'We ignore him if
he calls again?'

'He calls again, say we'll pay. Ask him where the money
is to be deposited. Then call Norton, tell him the location.
He's to surround it with an army of concealed and armed men. Tell him to make up a bundle which looks like it
contains banknotes as bait. Just do it - and it isn't anything
you need to know about.'

Tweed had left Sprüngli with Newman and Paula and they
were walking up Bahnhofstrasse
en route
to police head
quarters. Despite the brilliant glare of the sun it was
bitterly cold and there were few people about. A small
crowd stood waiting for a tram.

They heard one rumbling from behind them and had just
reached the crowd when the Ski-man
brushed close to Tweed. Newman had gripped his Smith & Wesson and behind the skier Butler held
his Walther concealed in his hand. The Ski-man had white hair projecting from under the back of his cap. Tweed laid a restraining hand on Newman's arm.

'It's all right

'Tweed' - the Ski-man spoke rapidly in an American
accent - 'one thing I forgot. My office safe at Langley was
raided - they have photos of yourself and Paula ...'

He leapt aboard the tram just as the automatic doors
were closing. Newman and Paula stared at Tweed.

That was Cord Dillon,' he told them. 'Wearing a white
wig. Well disguised. And now we know the worst. Paula
and I are recognizable to the opposition. Bob, stay close to
Paula.'

'And I'm staying close to you,' Butler told him. 'I was
expecting Dillon to produce a knife. If he had done he'd
have got a bullet through the spine.'

'Don't think badly of him. He's on his own and running.
He just did us a big favour. Now for Beck and then Eve
Amberg...'

Amberg's estranged wife lived in a large old grey villa perched high up above the city. As they'd climbed higher and higher a panoramic view of Lake Zurich and the city
had appeared below. The three-storey villa stood back
from the road behind tall railings rising up from a low stone
wall. A short distance behind their taxi a black Mercedes slowed, parked by the kerb.

Behind the wheel, Butler, who had hired the car, looked
at Nield seated alongside him. He checked his rear-view mirror again.

'No sign of a tail, Pete. So I suppose we just wait.'

'Someone in the BMW parked in front of the villa. A
girl, I think. Tweed and Co. are approaching her...'

After paying off the cab driver, Tweed, with Paula and Newman, was approaching the wrought-iron gates when Tweed stared at the BMW. He paused, spoke half under his breath.

'I don't believe it. I think a word with her would be a
good idea before we go barging in.'

The girl sitting in the front passenger seat by herself
wore a pale blue woollen helmet but it didn't conceal the wave of golden hair failing to her shoulders. She wore sun-glasses and turned as Tweed bent down to speak to her. Paula was stunned. It was Jennie Blade, last seen in
Padstow.

'You're a long way from Cornwall,' Tweed greeted her
genially. 'You flew to Zurich?'

'Bloody hell, no. Look, it's freezing out there. Bob,
come and sit beside me. Tweed, you and Paula climb in the
back. It's warm as toast in here. Then we can talk.'

She flashed Newman a warm smile as he settled in the
front passenger seat. She had the heaters going full blast and the warmth hit them. Jennie twisted round to talk to
Tweed.

'We sailed here in the flaming
Mayflower.
Across the
North Sea, up the Rhine and berthed at Basle. Then by
train to here. I was thrown all over the place during the sea
crossing. His lordship is mad keen on sailing.'

'His lordship? Gaunt, you mean?' Tweed queried.
'Where is he now?'

'At this moment? He's inside that villa. Enjoying himself.' She gazed fixedly at Tweed. 'Could you and I meet for a drink this evening? I'll tell you the story of my life.' She grinned wickedly. 'You'll find it a rather lurid tale.'

'Certainly,' Tweed agreed promptly. 'Six o'clock at the
Hummer Bar in the Gotthard? You'll find the main entrance
in Bahnhofstrasse a stone's throw from the Bahnhofplatz.'

'I'll look forward to that.'

'What did you mean when you said Gaunt was enjoying
himself inside that villa?'

'Oh, didn't you know? Eve Amberg is one of his girl friends.'

18

Tweed hauled on the long chain bell-pull inside the mas
sive porch of the villa. Turning round, he waved to Jennie
Blade, who waved back. Newman stared at the door.

'Is this a good time to call?' Paula asked. What on
earth are Gaunt and Jennie of all people doing in
Zurich?'

'That's what I hope to find out
...

He broke off as the massive door was unlocked,
unchained and swung inward by a maidservant in uni
form. A Swiss girl, Paula thought when she heard her
speak in English.

'Is Madame expecting you?' She studied the card
Tweed had given her. 'You are an insurance salesman?'

'Hardly. I'm Chief Claims Investigator. Just take the
card to your mistress and tell her we've travelled here all
the way from Cornwall to see her.'

'I suppose she has to get dressed quickly,' Paula said
in a low voice.

'Not necessarily,' Tweed replied.

In less than a minute the door was opened again, the
maid informed them that Madame would see them now.
The hall was very large and something about the atmos
phere repelled Paula. The old woodblock floor was
highly polished and a large over-ornate grandfather
clock against one wall ticked ponderously. Leading them
to the rear of the hall, the maid opened a door, stood
aside. Tweed, sensing Paula's reluctance, marched
straight into a vast living room with windows over
looking a neglected back garden which was a tangle of
undergrowth and stunted evergreens.

'Mr Tweed? I believe you have met Mr Gaunt. I don't know about your friends
...

'They all know me. Naturally,' boomed Gaunt. 'We've had drinks together in the local pub. Right, Tweed? You following me around? Want to know what I'm up to, I
expect. Eh? Let me introduce you all. This is Madame Eve Amberg, wife of the late lamented Julius Amberg.'

'Not all that lamented, Mr Tweed. Do sit down, all of
you. Gregory is just leaving.'

Eve Amberg was an attractive woman in her mid-
thirties. She had long titian hair and looked as though she had just returned from an expensive hairdresser. She had greenish eyes, strong features, a full mouth and a shapely
chin. Her complexion had the marble-like glow Paula
knew came from careful and lengthy make-up. She wore a
bolero jacket over a green dress which emphasized her
shapely figure. Her long legs were crossed elegantly. She had an aura of a strong personality and her voice was soft
and appealing.

She patted the empty seat beside her on a couch inviting
Tweed to sit next to her. The vacant cushion showed no
sign of recent occupation. Gaunt was standing under an
elaborate chandelier, clad in a houndstooth jacket and
cavalry twill trousers with a blue silk cravat under his jaw.
Very much the country gent, Paula thought.

'Eve, I really must go. I regret the reason for coming to
see you.' He looked at Tweed before leaving. 'I now leave
you to the tender mercies of Eve. Survive her charms if you
can.. .'

Newman, seated next to Paula on another large couch,
detected a note of irony in the remark. Eve chuckled
good-humouredly, called out to him as he reached the door.