Vorpal Blade (35 page)

'Then could you go downstairs and see if Sophie is still
in the lounge? She was when we came in, and had a coat on.
I'd like you to talk to her on her own. Providing Marienetta
is not there. Most people will be having dinner. We'll have
ours after you've talked with her. It's important.'

Paula found Sophie, her coat on another chair, sitting by herself in an otherwise empty lounge. A waiter had just served her with glass of Scotch. Not the first, I suspect,
Paula thought as she walked up to her.

'Hello, Sophie, mind if I join you for a drink?'

'Another double Scotch,' Sophie shouted before the
waiter had disappeared. 'Sit down, Paula. I'm feeling neglected.'

'That's entirely my fault,' Paula replied as she eased
herself into a chair facing Sophie.

She quickly studied Roman's only daughter. Sophie was
good looking. Not in the glamorous manner of Marienetta,
but in a more comfortable way. She had good features, grey eyes which looked frankly at Paula. Her nose was snub but
well shaped and her chin suggested determination. Her
brown hair, still tied back in a ponytail, suited her.
She wore a blue evening dress, long-sleeved and with a
high collar. When Paula's drink was brought they clinked
glasses. Sophie smiled and looked round to make sure they
were alone, then pulled her chair closer to Paula's.

'I'm sure any impression you have of me has come from
Marienetta. We don't get on too well. Maybe my fault. I
get periods of fatigue, then I'm full of energy and ready
to push the whole world over. I've always been like that. I was once lured into seeing a psychiatrist - thought he was
just a doctor. He said I was wired. Funny word, but he told
me not to worry about it. A question of temperament.'

'Who "lured" you, as you put it, into seeing this medi
cal man?'

'Marienetta. She thought my moods were dangerous. I
heard her say that to my father. I had the feeling she was
disappointed when the shrink said I was just wired.'

'Was this consultation in London?'

'No, when I was in the States.'

'Whereabouts were you? This must have been disturb
ing.'

'In Boston.' Sophie drank more Scotch without any
apparent effect. 'My father has a plant there manufacturing
explosives. I visit it now and again. This time Marienetta
jumped on the plane at the last moment. Which made me suspicious.'

She giggled like a schoolgirl. This unexpected change in
her personality startled Paula. She had been so mature and
logical earlier.

'It's the Scotch,' Sophie explained, her normal self
again. 'Makes me see the funny side of life. I thought
Marienetta such a joke - boarding the Gulfstream at the
last moment. Then she started talking about this doctor
who wasn't a doctor.'

'Been anywhere else in the States?' Paula asked casu
ally.

'New York. Went there with Black Jack. Something
strange about him. Talk about my moods. You should
see his.'

'What's he like when he's in a mood?' Paula wondered.

'Crazy. Capable of doing anything in public. Once we
were in a New York club and he jumped onto an empty
table, started dancing madly. An attractive woman stopped
to watch. Reaching down he hauled her up, snapping one
of her shoulder straps. He had a
good grip on her and to start with she looked annoyed, then she began to take to
him. He started singing at the top of his voice "America the
Beautiful". He has a good voice. He'd have been thrown
out but everyone started joining in the singing. The man
ager joined in. He has this extraordinary personality.'

'Sounds as though he has.' Paula checked her watch. 'I
have enjoyed our conversation but I must get up now and
change for dinner.'

She turned as she was leaving the lounge. Sophie was
giggling, waving her empty glass for another refill.

Vigliano's bar is in a side street off Bahnhofstrasse, not far
from the Baur au Lac. In the Altstadt - the Old Town -
it has several rooms separated from each other. All with stone walls, the ceiling shaped in stone arches. The phone
booth is near the entrance, opposite the bar.

The phone call was made from this booth late in the
evening. The call was answered by a certain Luigi Morati,
not a man you would want to have a drink with. Picking
up the phone, Luigi reacted cautiously.

'Si?'

'Am I speaking to Luigi Morati?'

The voice was strange. Couldn't tell whether it was a
man or a woman. Luigi caught on immediately. The caller
was using a voice distorter.

'You might be,' he answered in English. 'What is it?'

'It is about a hundred thousand dollars.'

That caught his attention. But he still proceeded cau
tiously. In his 'profession' he had to if he was to survive.

'Who gave you my name?'

'I am not allowed to tell you. Are you interested or
not?'

The voice had sharpened, sounded impatient, as though
the caller was prepared to slam down the phone. Luigi took
a deep breath.

'What do I do to earn one hundred thousand dollars?'

'Kill someone. Within the next twenty-four hours.'

'Give me the details. I need a description, where they can be found, their—'

'Shut up! Name of the woman is Paula Grey. Staying at
the Baur au Lac. I have just stuffed an envelope behind this
phone at Vigliano's Bar. How long for you to get here?'

'Five minutes.'

'Inside the envelope is a photo of Paula Grey. Inside the
same envelope is one hundred thousand dollars in used
notes. If you take the money and do not do the job you
will be dead.'

'Don't talk to me like that. I am reliable. My reputation
is my living. I am leaving now.'

22

It was late and Zurich was very quiet as Broden, wearing
a cap and with his overcoat buttoned up to the neck,
walked down Bahnhofstrasse. He could have been anybody. The cap concealed his
en brosse
haircut, the coat collar concealed the lower part of his face. He carried a
suitcase.

He turned off Bahnhofstrasse down the side street lead
ing to ACTIL's headquarters. At the far end he could see
police tape closing it off, lights from police cars. Taking out
a key, he unlocked the door, went inside without turning
on the light, re-locked the door.

Climbing the stairs he reached Roman's office, door closed, a light on behind it. He knocked. No reply. He
opened the door quietly. Roman was sitting at his desk in
front of the window with the blind pulled down, poring
over a file.

'It's me,' Broden said softly.

'Why the hell don't you knock?' Roman demanded.

He glared at his security chief. His right eye twitched
several times. Which meant he was under pressure. Broden
took off cap and coat - it was damned Siberian outside.
The office was warm.

'I did knock. You didn't hear me. Something wrong?'

'Yes, money is missing. I've checked and double-checked.
It's Dorf. Sack him in the morning.'

'We could prosecute . . .'

'We do
not
want the police creeping around us. What's in that suitcase?'

'Warmer clothes. Earlier I found one shop just closing. I don't know whether you've heard. There's been another
murder,'

'What!'

Roman swivelled round in his chair. The eye started twitching again. Broden waited for him to say something
but his employer remained silent. He slipped the file into a large briefcase. Standing up, he put on his heavy overcoat.
He picked up the briefcase.

When they left the building Roman never glanced to
his right where police tape fenced off the street. Carrying
his bulging briefcase, he turned left, his head bowed.
Broden was
not surprised. He knew his chief's remarkable
brain was always concentrated on building up ACTIL, on
sweeping out of his way anything that might interfere with
expansion. Or anyone.

They were approaching the entrance to the Baur au
Lac when Roman spoke. Looking at Broden his eye was
twitching again.

'That would be the fourth murder. Anyone we know?'

'Yes.'

Entering the hall after an excellent dinner, Tweed, Newman
and Paula found Marler waiting. He wore a raincoat and carried a suitcase. He shook his head. He didn't want any conversation in public. Only when they were all inside
Tweed's suite, with the door locked, did he speak. First
he placed his case on a luggage rack, opened it.

'I've visited someone I know in Zurich. Spent a lot of
money. This is for you.'

He handed Paula a .32 Browning automatic and several
magazines. She immediately checked that the weapon
was unloaded, then slid a magazine into the butt. The
Browning was then slipped inside the special pocket in
her shoulder bag.

'Thank you, Marler, I've felt naked without this.'

Marler produced a .38 Smith & Wesson revolver,
handed it to Newman. He then gave him a bag containing ammo. Next he brought out a Walther 7.65mm automatic
which he handed to Tweed. Most of his life Tweed refused
to carry a weapon but this time he accepted it. He was convinced that when he confronted the killer he'd have to shoot it. After the crimes it had committed that would be
the best solution. Marler took out another Walther.

He was holding the automatic in his hand when Newman
let into the suite Butler and Nield. Walking forward to
Marler, Nield held out his hand.

'Gimme.'

'Sorry. My supplier would only give me four hand
weapons. I had to coax him to get the ones I've dished
out to Paula, Tweed and Bob. It's the two murders here in
Zurich. The supplier is worried they'll provoke the police into visiting him.'

'Not to worry,' said Butler. 'Wherever you are there's always something you can use as a weapon.'

'Where have you two been all this time?' Tweed asked.

'Trawling Zurich,' Nield replied. 'It's a complex city.
In an emergency we need to know it like the backs of our hands. I took the Altstadt on the other side of the Limmat,
Harry explored this side.'

'On a motorbike,' Harry said. 'Bought a second-hand
Yamaha. Goes like the wind. Blindfold me, drop me
anywhere this side of the Limmat, remove the blindfold.
I'll know
exactly where I am.'