Vorpal Blade (21 page)

'The way of the world ever since the Stone Age, I sup
pose. Yes, it would be interesting to have dinner together
-
when I get clear of a pile of work.'

'Forget the pile,' she coaxed. 'I get the impression you
work like a Trojan. It would do you good to have a relaxing
evening. To the devil with Park Crescent.'

'Don't say a word,' Tweed warned.

A familiar figure had appeared, stalking through the
entrance with a self-satisfied look on his hawklike features.
He was heading for their table.

Sam Snyder.

Snyder looked even more bony-faced, his prominent nose
even larger than Tweed remembered from their encounter
in Park Crescent, his manner more aggressive, his dark
eyes even more penetrating. Without being invited he sat
on an empty chair at their table. The waitress appeared.

'I'll have what they're having,' he said brusquely.

'Which hole did you crawl out of?' snapped Tweed.

'You haven't introduced me to your lovebird,' he said
to Tweed, grinning unpleasantly.

'We have met before,' said Marienetta, her voice cold
as she used a silk handkerchief to remove an imaginary spot from her dress without a glance in his direction.

'You want to watch your language - and your manners,'
Tweed responded, his expression grim.

'The hole I crawled out of was Charlie's Physical, the
gym across the street. Don't think you saw me. I was sitting
up in the gallery.'

'Hunched well down out of sight,' Tweed said con
temptuously.

'Quite a show I witnessed. Darling Sophie attacked
Marienetta.' He took out a notebook. '"I'll kill her" were
the exact words she used, I believe. I do a gossip column
as well as major news stories,' he went on, putting away
the notebook. 'Make a great item for the column, don't
you think?'

Out of the corner of his eye Tweed saw Marienetta tense. He knew she wanted to administer one of her
powerful slaps to Snyder's grinning face. Instead she kept her control, gazed up at the ceiling. Tweed leaned forward
until he was inches from the predatory nose. His voice was
quiet, a clear whisper.

'I'm going to make you a promise, Sam. You know Bob
Newman has reluctantly helped you in the past when a
"D" notice was clamped on a topic by the government.
He has shown you how to write the article and evade the notice. You print anything in that gossip column and he
becomes your enemy - a deadly enemy. On top of that
you're making yourself a name in New York, up to a
point. Newman will write a satirical piece about you for
the
New York Times.
You'll be the joke of the city, a joke
passed round all the parties there. It will finish you in the
States.'

Different expressions crossed the hawk-like face, none
of them confident. Snyder started to lift his coffee cup
and it trembled so much he had to put it down without
drinking.

'I guess you thought I meant it,' he said eventually.
'I guess you took it seriously. I didn't. Sorry about the lovebirds remark. It was tasteless. Unfounded. Guess I'd
better push off after I've paid for my coffee.'

'I will pay for the coffee.'

Tweed's tone was as grim as his expression. Snyder
stood up, was uncertain how to leave. He decided it was
best not to say anything more. He was careful not to look
at
Marienetta as he left, went out into the street.

'I didn't know you could be so tough,' Marienetta
commented when they were on their own. 'Your voice
sounded like the crack of doom. Even though so quiet. You really do protect a woman, I'm so grateful.'

'Don't be:'

He had just uttered the words when Marienetta's mobile
rang. She spoke very quietly, listened, spoke again, put
it away.

'That was Roman. He would like to see you in his office
as soon as you can manage it.'

'Did he say why?'

'Yes, I was coming to that. He says there's a crisis.'

'I'm becoming an expert on them. Now would be as
good a time as any to go and see him, if you think that
would suit him.'

'I'm sure it would. He sounded grim - but not as grim
as you can be. He also said if you could bring Paula it
might be a good idea.'

'Really? Do me a favour - I don't use mobiles -
phone Paula at Park Crescent, explain the position to
her, please . . .'

While Marienetta was on the phone Tweed paid the
bill, then gazed into space. His brain was moving at high
power. Black Jack Diamond, Sophie and Snyder. It all
fitted into a pattern he couldn't get hold of. And who
had Snyder followed to take him to the gym where the
real 'lovebirds' were exercising? Behind these domestic
developments loomed the brutal murders of Hank Foley and Adam Holgate.

'Paula said she was coming to ACTIL like a rocket. Bob
Newman has insisted on escorting her, but said he'd wait in the lobby. Ready to move? You look miles away.'

'I was just wondering where Russell Straub is, what he's
up to. You're right. We'd better start out.'

They had to waste time searching for an empty taxi.
Then the journey to the City was a traffic-jammed crawl.

Tweed had closed the windows to keep out petrol fumes.
There was a faint purple haze above them, the accumulation of the fumes.

They reached the ACTIL building eventually, to find
Paula waiting on the entrance steps. She gave them a
mocking wave.

'What kept you?'

'Where's Newman?' Tweed wanted to know.

'He got the doorman to park his car. He's sitting behind
the net curtains of that cafe over there. Hadn't we better
get a move on?'

'Paula,' Marienetta mocked her back, 'one of these days
I'm going to take you on a two-hour taxi ride through
central London. Then you'll know what we've just experi
enced.'

'Yes, Marienetta,' snarled Roman Arbogast as she fol
lowed Paula and Tweed into his office, 'you might as
well sit in on this.'

'If you don't want me here all you have to do is say
so.'

Marienetta had spoken amiably. She stood erect with
her hands on her hips. Roman glared, waved his hand
for her to sit down as though resigning himself to the
inevitable.

Not in a good mood, Paula thought as, with Tweed,
she sat in one of the armchairs placed before his desk.
Roman, lighted cigar in one hand, stood, padding back
and forth which reminded Paula of Tweed, although his
step was firmer.

'Has Marienetta told you,' Roman began fiercely, 'that
my stupid daughter, Sophie, has lost her head . . .'

'Not like Adam Holgate, I hope,' Marienetta said. 'Oh, I am sorry, that really was in the worst of taste. I do
apologize.'

'Maybe,' Roman told her, in deceptively soft tones, 'you
could make an effort and keep your trap shut.' He turned
to Tweed and Paula. 'Sophie is determined to marry that
ruffian Black Jack Diamond. I know what he wants, a
portion of the ACTIL shares held in a private company. I'll outmanoeuvre that clever dick.'

'Can you tell us how you'll manage that?' Tweed won
dered aloud. 'Sophie is very headstrong.'

'She's also greedy for lots of money, like all my relatives.
There's a very good-looking American in London. George Barrymore. A multimillionaire. He rather fancies Sophie.
I'm going to manipulate matters so they meet at a party,
after someone has told Sophie how very rich he is. She'll salivate at the prospect of capturing him. Then she'll drop Black Jack like a hot brick.'

'I suppose,' Tweed suggested carefully, 'it's not possible
that Black Jack's game is to hope you will buy him off? A
spot of blackmail?'

'Of course it is!'
Roman thundered. His face twisted into
a savage grimace. Paula was taken aback. He reminded
her of the horrific portrait Marienetta had painted. 'But
he doesn't know me,' he roared on. 'I would resort to any
method to stop him succeeding. Any method available on
the face of the earth!'

'Now calm down, Uncle,' Marienetta said quietly. 'Your
strength has always been to stay cool.'

Her words, spoken as she stared straight at him, had an
astonishing effect. His face seemed to dissolve, to resume
a quiet expression.
Normal and abnormal.
Shaken, Paula
recalled the words Dr Scale had used.

Roman sagged his large body slowly into the chair
behind his desk. His right eye was twitching as he stared
at Tweed. He raised a fat hand. He spoke softly.

'The real reason I asked you here was to enquire whether
you are still investigating the murders.'

'Murders?' Tweed enquired.

'I should have said murder - the murder of Adam Holgate.'

'May I ask the reason for that question?'

'You may. Early this morning, soon after I had arrived,
Nathan Morgan of Special Branch tried to storm his way in
to see me. He had to be physically restrained by the forceful
Broden. He was almost thrown out of the building.'

'I see.' Tweed paused. 'Among other problems concern
ing me I still retain an interest in that case.'

'You have a suspect?'

Hands clasped tightly on his desk, Roman's strange head
was twisted to the right, watching Tweed.

'No, I have not. It is far too early to get the hang of all
the people involved.'

'You will let me know if you focus on one individual?'

'I will do all I can.' Tweed stood up. 'Now you are a
busy man and we've taken up a lot of your time. Let us
keep in touch . . .'

Marienetta accompanied them through the first office
into the hall. She pressed the button of the special lift after
inserting her computer card, then turned to Tweed.

'If you don't mind, I will leave you here. I want to go
back and make sure he really has quietened down. It's
Sophie who is worrying him. And thank you so much for
all your help with this and that . . .'