Colin Forbes - By Stealth

The first three names were Andover, Delvaux, Westendorf. He drew a line through Andover. Dealt with. He paused, his pencil poised. Then he inserted a fresh name after Westendorf. Tweed. Alongside the name he put a question mark. It was a little early to be sure whether Tweed should be subjected to treatment.

Brussels has three main stations, running roughly from east to west – towards the sea. Midi, Centrale and Nord The undistinguished Hotel Hermitage was situated in a small side-street near Centrale station – not the most upper-crust section of Brussels.

Dr Carberry-Hyde – to give him his full name – was packing his case after receiving the phone call. A tall, heavily built man in his fifties, he had a permanent stoop from bending over patients' beds. He had a large head, a hooked nose, thinning grey hair above a tall forehead. Clean shaven, he possessed a perfect set of teeth which he often showed when he smiled at nervous patients. It was not a sincere smile and never reached the eyes behind rimless glasses: he assumed it for his bedside manner.

Dr Hyde wondered whether Liege would offer him the same facilities for relaxation as Brussels: he doubted it. He had recently returned from a certain street where the company of an attractive girl could be obtained for money – rather a lot of money.

He opened a smaller case. Neatly arranged inside were his surgical instruments. He picked up a scalpel and lovingly polished it. Dr Hyde was a man who enjoyed his work.

Tweed, Paula, and Newman walked out of the elevator on the ground floor and headed straight for the poker- playing quartet. Burgoyne was just sitting down again in his chair. Tweed, threading his way between tables, caught his words.

`Sorry about the interruption. Could do without business calls at this hour. In any case, the game is over. Lee has cleaned us out.'

In front of Lee was the hand she'd displayed. A Royal Flush. Fanshawe jumped up, insisted that Paula took his chair. He began talking non-stop.

`What a coincidence. And what a pleasant one. Delighted to have your company. No, I'll get more chairs for our welcome guests. Yes, amazing coincidence. Last time it was the New Forest. Who'd have thought we'd have the pleasure of your company here in Brussels? Tweed, you sit here next to Lee. Rich woman. So just your cup of tea. You two will get on famously…'

Newman was helping Willie to bring more chairs. Tweed noticed Burgoyne hadn't stirred a muscle to give a hand. He introduced Newman to the party. Burgoyne then reacted with a barbed comment.

`The notorious foreign correspondent. Everyone will have to watch their words. We'll find ourselves reported in the national press.'

`I'm taking that as a joke.' Newman leaned forward towards the Brigadier. 'In case you hadn't heard, I retired.'

`So would I,' the Brigadier retorted, 'if I'd made the fortune you did out of that sensational bestseller you wrote. What was it now? Kruger: The Computer That Failed. Read it. Not bad. Must have made you a millionaire.'

`It depends on which currency you're talking about,' Newman countered.

`Why don't you two stop fencing and enjoy yourselves?' Lee remonstrated. 'This is supposed to be a fun party.'

`Then let's have some more to drink,' Burgoyne decided. 'More champagne?'

`Perfect,' Lee agreed. 'I have something to celebrate.'

`Then you ought to pay,' Burgoyne growled. He summoned a waiter with a beckoning gesture of his index finger. Just like summoning some poor squaddie in the officers' mess, Tweed thought. 'Two more bottles of Krug – same as last time,' Burgoyne specified.

Tweed took the opportunity to order ham sandwiches for three. And a glass of white wine for himself. He wanted a clear head for this gathering.

Paula was watching Lee. She had a pile of Belgian-franc notes in front of her. Methodically, she was sorting them into a neat pile. That girl likes money, Paula was thinking: there was an aura of pure delight in the way Lee handled the money, a considerable amount. She moved her chair closer to Tweed's, rested her bare arm against his sleeve. She turned to face him with a glowing smile.

`I'm paying for your order. Now, no argument. And when you've eaten please join me in a cognac.'

`Let's see how I feel later. It's a bit stuffy in here.' `Then if you feel like a breath of fresh air later I'll be glad to join you for a walk. To the Copenhagen Tavern.' `We might do that,' Tweed agreed amiably.

She was pressing her arm against his and he could feel the warmth of her body through his suit. Helen Claybourne had stood up, was collecting the cards, shuffling them into a pack. She paused next to Lee, bent down and picked something off her right shoe.

`A few bits of undergrowth and pine needles,' Lee remarked. 'Which I must have collected when I had a stroll in the Parc d'Egmont behind the hotel.' She looked at Tweed. 'That was before dinner with Willie at the Cafe d'Egmont. It's high-class coffee house, but the food is good.'

`It's better at the Baron de Boeuf on the first floor,' said Burgoyne. 'That's where you get a first-class meal.'

`At first-class prices,' Willie commented. Newman was reminded of a doleful St Bernard. 'Still,' Willie brightened up, 'we're all having one helluva time. I like nothing better than good company, good food. What else is there in the world?'

`Hard work.' The Brigadier grunted, tasted the Krug the waiter had poured. 'That'll do.'

Paula had her first chance to look at the shoes Lee was wearing. Sensible walking shoes. Which didn't go at all with the glamorous purple off-the-shoulder outfit.

Newman had moved his chair so he sat close to Helen Claybourne. Lee had blood-red nail-varnished fingernails, a colour he disliked intensely. Looked as though she'd dipped her fingers in blood. As a contrast, Helen's slim strong-looking fingers were varnished a pale pink. She turned to him and her grey eyes held his unblinking.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lee stroking back her blonde mane so she could see Tweed clearly. Again a contrast: Helen sat quite still, her hands clasped in her lap, still staring at him with the hint of a smile.

`Are you enjoying all this?' he asked her quietly.

`I am now. I've read quite a bit about you in magazine profiles. I'd imagine you're a very resourceful man – someone a woman could depend on in an emergency. Which is more than you can say for most men nowadays.'

With any other woman it would have sounded like flattery. But Helen made it sound like a simple statement she believed. They clinked glasses and she gave him her half-smile again.

I'm not doing very well tonight, Paula thought. Lee appears to have Tweed in the palm of her hand. Newman can't take his eyes off Helen. I must be losing my touch. Willie seemed to sense her feeling of isolation. Turning to her, he clinked his glass with hers, beaming at her.

`You must have had the appetite of a lady who hasn't eaten for weeks. The way you devoured those sandwiches. I know a rather nice little restaurant just up the boulevard. The Copenhagen Tavern. It has a bar. Why don't we go up there, get away from this lot?'

`I'd love to – and thank you, Willie. But it's been a long day. Maybe tomorrow..

She was watching Lee who had twisted round in her chair. She was straightening Tweed's tie. Willie glanced in the same direction, then went on chatting.

`Tell you what. There are some pretty good exhibitions on at the moment. Helen,' he called out, 'hope I'm not interrupting. I wonder if you could find out all the exhibitions on in town early tomorrow, give me a list?'

Helen produced a notebook from her handbag. Newman kept quiet as she produced her expensive fountain-pen, took off the top, make a note.

`Consider it done,' she assured Willie.