The Power (83 page)

'Looks as ancient as history,' she commented.

'Used to be a castle in the twelfth century,' Tweed told her, 'before ages later it was rebuilt and converted into a
hotel. At least it's quiet down here.'

Paula thought that was an understatement, recalling
the furious hustle and fast tempo of Zurich. Across the
road from the hotel was an oyster-shaped harbour encircled with eerie green street lamps, their light
reflected in the harbour water. Boats cocooned for winter
in blue plastic covers were moored to buoys.

But it was the stillness which most struck her - the
waterfront was deserted, there was no other traffic, no
one else in sight. To their left beyond the road they had
driven along was a line of small hotels and cafés, all apparently closed. Tweed had lowered his window and
refreshing air drifted inside - so different from the ice-
cold of the Vosges. Marler appeared from nowhere
alongside the window.

'OK to come ashore,' he drawled. He handed a sheet of
paper to Tweed. 'That lists the hotels round here where
Norton's men are stationed. The Château d'Ouchy, so far
as I can tell, is clean ...'

Tweed had parked the Espace in a courtyard alongside
the hotel and next to Marler's red Mercedes. He entered
reception with Paula, who spoke to the girl behind the
counter, reminding her of the phoned reservations.

'And you said we could have dinner even if we arrived
at a late hour.'

'The dining-room is at your service, but only when you
are ready.'

'I think we'd like to go up to our rooms to freshen up
first,' Tweed told her.

He had seen Ives coming in, accompanied by Amberg
and Cardon. Behind them followed Butler and Nield
flanking a defeated-looking Joel Dyson. He ordered But
ler to take turns with Nield in guarding Dyson in his
room, that the photographer was only to be given sand
wiches and mineral water, then he asked Paula and New
man to accompany him with Ives to his room after
registering. There was no time to waste. Lord knew what
the morning would bring.

'What sort of person would those six wealthy women who
were then brutally raped and murdered stop for - driving in the middle of nowhere in the dark?'

Tweed deliberately repeated the key question he had
put to Barton Ives aboard the train from Colmar to Basle. He had previously recalled, for the sake of Paula and
Newman, in abbreviated
form the story Ives had told him.
The FBI man sat up straight on the couch he occupied
with Paula, facing Tweed and Newman who were sitting
in chairs.

'Yes, that
was
the question I asked myself over and
over again. Then, in the last two cases, there was some
one else driving late on the fatal nights. They overtook
the cars of the victims - and saw a brown Cadillac parked in a nearby field. I had a hunch, a sudden flash of inspir
ation, luck - call it what you will. I began checking the
movements of a certain man to see whether by chance he
was in the state concerned on any of the six fatal nights.'

Ives paused, lit a rare cigarette. Paula glanced round at the suite she had booked for Tweed. It had its own sitting
area, spacious and comfortable, and beyond a row of
arches, the bedroom. She concentrated again on Ives as
he continued.

'The checking on this point wasn't too difficult. What
was difficult was carrying out my enquiries without any
one knowing what I was doing. If I was right I knew my
life could be in danger. Power carries a lot of clout.'

'So you were investigating a powerful man?' Paula
suggested.

'Powerful and ruthless,' Ives agreed. 'To get where he had, to get where he is now. As I checked I began to get
more excited - I was hitting more pay dirt than I'd ever
really believed I would. The person I was after had made
a political speech early in the evening in the same state in
the first three cases. And the city where he'd made the
speech wasn't all that far, in driving distance, from where
a woman was raped and murdered later that same
evening.'

'Circumstantial. But not conclusive,' Tweed com
mented.

'Wait!' Ives held up a hand, stubbed out the cigarette. 'I went on checking the last three cases. Certain that the
same circumstances wouldn't apply. But, by God, they did. Senator X - as he then was - had again spoken in
public in all three states hours before the last three
women victims were attacked and died. A lot of speeches
in six states, but then he was running for the highest—' Ives broke off briefly. 'I'll get to that in a minute.'

'What about this Senator's movements after he'd made
his speeches?' Tweed asked. 'Were you able to check them?'

That was my next task. Even more difficult to conceal.
And he has a very shrewd hatchet woman who runs a
whole network of informants. But over a period of time I
did manage to do just that - to check his movements after
he left the place where he'd made his speech, lifted his audience out of their seats - a real rabble rouser. He was
known for wanting to be on his own after bringing the roof down. Always says he needs to recharge his bat
teries, go some place on his own, drink one bottle of beer.
He did exactly that after all six speeches - on the nights
when later within driving distance, I checked the times - a
woman was raped, murdered.'

'So at least he has no alibi,' Tweed remarked.

'But he does have a brown Caddy he likes driving. And
this I haven't ever told anyone so far. I explored round
the area of the sixth victim, combed the grass for hours. I was about to call it zilch when I found this empty beer
bottle, with a complete set of fingerprints. Some beer that
the guy I was checking on likes. That bottle - inside a plastic bag - is in the boot of the Lincoln Continental I
have hidden away in an old barn.'

'Again the evidence is circumstantial,' Tweed pointed
out. 'No offence, but the trouble is a court would only
have your word for where you found that bottle. Unless
you can get the fingerprints of the man you were tracking. Of course, if they match
...'

'Not so easy.' Ives lit a fresh cigarette. 'Not so easy,' he repeated. 'Not to obtain the fingerprints of ex-Senator Bradford March, now President of the United States.'

51

In Switzerland it was not difficult the following morning
for Marler to obtain a film projector, a screen and the
other equipment he needed on Tweed's instructions. He
arrived back at the hotel at 8.30a.m. to find Tweed
having breakfast with Paula and Newman.

'I lay awake half the night,' Paula was saying. 'I still
can't believe the President of the United States is guilty of such horrific crimes.'

'Read the history of previous occupants of the Oval Office,' suggested Barton Ives who had overheard her
remark as he joined them. 'Under our crazy electoral
system a really depraved guy was bound to get there one
day. He has.'

'What do we do next?' Paula asked.

'You've got everything?' Tweed checked with Marler
as he sat down.

'Everything.'

'Then our next trip is to take Amberg to his branch
here, force him to produce the film and tape Dyson gave them in Zurich for safekeeping. Then we view the film
inside the bank ...'

Amberg was still under guard in his room with Cardon
keeping him company. Their breakfast came up from
room service. Joel Dyson was also trapped in his room
with an extremely unsympathetic Butler acting as his
guard.

'You know we were followed here all the way from
Basle?' Newman warned his chief.

'Not to worry - it was an unmarked car but they would
be Beck's men. After seeing us pass through the control
at Basle Station when we arrived from Colmar he's not a man to let us out of his sight. Talk of the devil.. .'

Arthur Beck, wearing a smart grey suit, walked into the
dining-room, which overlooked a small garden. He refused an offer of coffee, bent down to whisper to
Tweed.

'I have brought a small army of men into Ouchy. We
saw the Americans returning. So-called diplomats waiting
for their postings. This is too much. I'm organizing a
dragnet to check all the hotels.'

'I can save you time.' Tweed produced the list Marler had drawn up the previous evening. This lists where they all are. They will be armed.'

'So are my men.' Beck smiled wryly. 'Thank you for
doing my job for me. May I ask how you tracked them
down?'

'Marler, tell our friend about your researches.'

'Not difficult,' drawled Marler. 'I'd call at a hotel, tell
the night clerk some American friends of mine had
arrived, that I wanted to pay them some money I owed to them. Also I needed a room for the night and how much
would it be? I had a handful of Swiss coins - which can be
of reasonable value - and pushed them over the far edge
of the counter. While he was scrabbling for them I
checked his box of registration slips, memorized all names
where the nationality was American. I then told the clerk
I'd left my passport in my car, that I'd be back for the
room I'd paid for. Then on to the next hotel. Quite easy.'

'And very skilled - to pull it off with Swiss hotel staff.' Beck glanced at the list. 'I should have this lot within the
hour - for immediate deportation via Geneva Airport.
Spoil their breakfasts ...'

He had just disappeared when Gaunt trooped in with
Jennie clinging to his arm. Marching straight up to

T
weed's large table, he sat down

Top of the morning to you,' he greeted them breezily.
'Lovely day. Sun shining on the mountains of the Haute-across the lake. A large English breakfast for two,' commanded the waiter.

'I just want croissants,' Jennie said, her eyes glowing with annoyance. 'And I do like to be asked.'

'Nonsense! You must stoke up. Busy day ahead of us,
eh, Tweed? Saw a bunch of American thugs filing into the Hôteld'Angleterre just opposite last night. Have to keep a lookout for spoilers.'

'We have an appointment,' Tweed wiped his mouth with
his napkin. 'May see you later.'

He had hardly spoken when Eve Amberg appeared,
asked if she could sit with them. Tweed gestured to an chair and Paula caught Jennie glaring at the new What was it between these two women? Eve wore a form-hugging purple sweater and black ski-pants tucked knee-length leather boots. A striking outfit, Paula to herself.

'Where is Walter?' Eve enquired as she selected a roll. 'Coffee for me,' she told the waiter. 'So where is Walter?'
she repeated.

'He's exhausted,' Tweed lied. 'Sleeping in until about
ten before he surfaces.'