Colin Forbes - By Stealth

`I've heard quite enough,' Paula snapped again. 'More, in fact, than I want to hear. And I am lunching with him at the Tete d'Or.'

`Suit yourself.' Newman took the bill off the waiter as the drinks arrived. He signed it with his own room number. Paula was biting after the waiter had left.

`Mordaunt wanted to pay that bill. Do you have to interfere?'

`You don't have to say thank you,' Newman informed her with the same infuriating smile. He had seen Mordaunt coming back, stood up quickly. 'Excuse me.'

Newman had also noticed Marler emerging from the elevator, then standing some distance away while pretending to study an advertisement for an exhibition. Newman spoke quietly, pausing close to Marler as he lit a cigarette.

`See that dark-haired berk sitting down with Paula? She's soon waltzing off with him to have lunch at the Tete d'Or off Grand' Place. Mordaunt by name. Fringe journalist. Looks as though he's prospering by the cut of his suit. Mordaunt doesn't know you. Follow them. I'm just going to alert Nield to do the same on his scooter. I'll follow at a distance in a taxi. And Paula is in an uptight mood. I think it's a reaction to the kidnap attempt.'

`Three of us,' Marler commented. 'You're using the heavy brigade.'

`I don't trust Mordaunt.'

`I'll collect my hired Merc. from the garage. Oh, by the way, Dr Wand's Lear jet is being prepared for a flight to Hamburg.'

`How did you find that out?'

`You know me. Bribery. I got talking to a mechanic in the airport bar when he'd finished servicing the Lear. He heard the pilot talking about his flight plan…'

Lee Holmes came up to Newman at the moment Paula left the Hilton with Mordaunt. She wore a green dress, form-fitting and with a plunging neckline which didn't quite reveal the tops of her well-moulded breasts. Over one arm was folded a camel-hair coat. She smiled with her full red lips.

`I'm free – for anything,' she said mischievously. 'Are you?'

Tor lunch possibly.' Newman thought quickly. know a nice restaurant in Grand' Place.'

`Sounds divine. I've had Maurice up to here.'

She raised her hand and rested it across her throat. Her greenish eyes stared at him invitingly. What the hell, he thought: maybe I could find out something about this woman and be in the right place at the same time. Don't kid yourself, he told himself: Paula has irked you.

He helped her on with her coat. She used both hands to lift her golden mane over the collar, took him by the arm. Outside the doorman summoned a taxi, Newman told the driver to take them to Grand' Place.

Lee crossed her legs, her coat fell open, exposing her elegant legs. She sat closer to Newman as the taxi moved off, looped her arm again inside his, squeezed it.

`I'm really so glad you're available, Mr Newman.'

`Call me Bob.'

`Then I'm Lee…'

How did she manage it? Without appearing to be in any way a tart she used words like 'available' in a way as though they'd known each other a long time. The taxi dropped them outside a street leading into Grand' Place: the barriers prevented him taking them inside the old cobbled square. Newman escorted Lee into a restaurant facing across the square, chose a window table.

From his seat he could see Marler leaning up against a wall, reading a newspaper. He was perched at the corner where the rue Tete d'Or led off Grand' Place. He'd have parked his car near by, Newman guessed. Doubtless at the other end of the short narrow street Nield was close by with his scooter. They had Paula and Mordaunt in a pincer movement.

`Do you like Chablis?' Newman asked, naming his favourite wine.

`I adore Chablis,' Lee assured him.

When they had ordered she leant forward, inserted a cigarette in her fat jewelled holder. Her tone was mocking in a warm way.

`I saw some other man walking off with your girl friend, Paula. I hope she hasn't deserted you.'

`She isn't what is normally known by the term girl friend.'

`So what is the relationship? I'm jealous, Bob. She is a very attractive girl. With brains too.'

She described Paula without a trace of bitchiness. Her eyes never left his.

`She's in the insurance business. Rather high-powered stuff.' He watched Lee closely. 'It can involve negotiations with kidnappers.'

`Sounds dangerous.' Lee bit gently on the tip of her holder. 'Do you mean her outfit insures important men in case they're kidnapped for a ransom?'

`Something like that.' He hadn't seen any flicker of an unusual reaction. But she had been an actress. 'Don't let's talk about her,' he suggested. 'Let's talk about someone who is beginning to intrigue me. You.'

`Thank you,' she said, accepting the compliment gracefully. 'Let me think a moment where to start.'

Newman found himself falling under her spell. It wasn't just her physical beauty. Her voice was soothing and he felt he could listen to her for hours. She sipped her wine, still staring at him, but her mind seemed to be far away. He prodded her.

`Why are you fed up with Maurice?'

`The Brig. can be such a pain. He's so goddam stiff – unyielding in the smallest thing. Everything has to be just so. It's his military background, I suppose. He still thinks he's in charge of the brigade – that I'm his aide-de-camp, or whatever…' Newman realized he'd pressed the right button: the words came out in a torrent.

`I trained as an accountant,' she went on, `so that made me pretty meticulous in everything I do. I gave it up. Figures are boring. They never talked to me – the way they seem to do with some accountants. I drifted from one job to another, then I saw this advertisement. For a housekeeper-cum-personal assistant. "Meticulous attention to detail required", was one phrase used. So I thought: that's me. I keep his papers in order – those he'll let me handle…'

`There are some he keeps to himself?'

`Oh, yes!' Her eyes opened wide. 'The Brig. keeps a lot of them locked in a safe like a bank vault. I'm never allowed access to those. Maurice can be very secretive. And he's not relaxing company – like you are, Bob. You're memorizing every word I say, aren't you?'

`I wouldn't go so far as that,' Newman lied. `Do you travel a lot with him?'

`Indeed we do. Traipse all over Europe. He's meeting what he calls business associates – some of them very peculiar characters…'

`In what way are they peculiar?' Newman asked casually.

`Pretty rough diamonds. I wouldn't like to meet them in a dark alley. God knows what these business deals are. If he wasn't the Brig. I'd say they were villains. He once told me to go to a certain bar in the Reeperbahn in Hamburg late at night to collect an envelope. I had to dress in a certain way so whoever had the envelope would recognize me. Talk about rough types – it's a wonder I got out of there with any of my clothes still on.'

`So how did you handle that?'

`I grabbed a bottle by the neck, smashed it on the bar, and shouted in German that anyone who came near me would carry the scars for life.'

Newman looked at her. With her soothing voice and perfect complexion he found it difficult to picture her as a raging tigress. But he had no doubt the incident had taken place.

`Get the envelope?' he asked.

`Of course.' She looked surprised. 'A big fat sealed envelope. I felt it afterwards in the taxi back to the hotel. I was pretty sure it was crammed with 500-Deutschmark notes.' She smiled again. 'You're listening to every word I say with hardly an interruption. The Brig. wouldn't let me talk for sixty seconds without interrupting. We really ought to get to know each other better.'

`Great idea.' Newman stood up. 'The food will be here soon. Mind if I pop out for a paper? Back in a minute…'

He strolled across the cobbled square in the cold sunlight before the shadows of the ancient buildings blotted it out. Marler, who had seen him coming, had melted out of sight. Newman found him just round the corner.