Colin Forbes - By Stealth

Tweed was disturbed as he put down the phone. Nothing had been as he'd expected. He had anticipated Westendorf answering the phone – if anyone at all had responded to his call. He had pictured the German existing on his own inside the schloss – his wife had died several years ago.

Westendorf had one seventeen-year-old son. Tweed had assumed he might well have been kidnapped. Something strange had compelled the German to throw up his career without warning. What was going on in Germany? Tweed sensed the pattern he had uncovered with Andover and Delvaux was now being repeated in Hamburg. Someone tapped on the door. It was Paula.

`What a lovely room,' she enthused. 'And a super view from the window.'

`I think they've installed that lovely fountain gushing in the middle of the lake since I was last here. Maybe I've forgotten it.'

`And if I know you, you've forgotten it's time we went down and had some lunch.'

`Something quick. I don't feel like a full-dress effort. I know. The bar…'

Newman was about to knock on the door when they went into the corridor. Paula was revelling in the peace of the hotel. A chambermaid wished them `Guten Tag' as they entered the lift. The bar opened off the spacious lobby which had a large sitting area. Small and comfortably furnished with leather banquettes, the bar was empty except for the barman who came forward.

`I can make do with ham sandwiches – if that's all right with both of you,' Tweed suggested.

`And to drink, sir?' the barman enquired.

`A bottle of champagne,' Newman decided.

`Mineral water for me,' Tweed ordered.

Once the barman had gone Tweed told them about his call to the Schloss Tannenberg. He had just finished when Marler peered in. He gave a discreet thumbs-up sign and disappeared.

`That means he's got a car,' Newman said.

`It will be after dark when we get there,' Tweed ruminated aloud. 'Odd the emphasis that man put on six pm.'

`We'll find out when we get there,' Newman assured him.

At 5.15 pm. Tweed, muffled against the cold in an overcoat, collar turned up, was walking up and down outside the hotel with Paula. She also wore her coat buttoned to her neck. The night was clear, star-studded, and the temperature had dropped below zero. It was the first day of December.

Newman stood smoking a cigarette as a very large black Mercedes 600 pulled in to the kerb. Paula stared at its size as, behind the wheel, Marler called out through his open window.

`Don't just stand there freezing. Hop in.'

They had left the outskirts of Hamburg behind when Tweed asked the question. They were moving through a district of impressive two-storey villas in spacious grounds behind high railings. Hardly any other traffic.

`How on earth did you get hold of this mobile palace?' he asked.

`Oh,' Marler drawled, 'I said I was driving a top official to visit a Minister. After all, he was one – once.' He eyed Tweed in the rear-view mirror. 'This chariot is costing you a bomb. And from the map you gave me we're nearly there.'

Paula, revelling in the space, the warmth from the heaters, caught glimpses of the solid villas as the headlights swung round bends. A very expensive area.

Marler suddenly stopped, stiffened like a fox scenting danger. He had been driving slowly for the past five minutes, peering at elaborate name plates by the side of high gates and illuminated with lanterns. All the gates had been shut but this pair was open. Schloss Tannenberg. Tweed sensed his alertness.

`Something wrong?'

`I think you ought to go in equipped.' He opened a hold-all on the seat beside him, produced a. 32 Browning automatic which he handed Paula with spare ammo. For Newman he had a hip holster, a Smith amp; Wesson. 38 Special with ammo. Before replying to Tweed he waited while Newman strapped on the hip holster, checked the gun, loaded it, slipped it inside the holster, put his jacket and coat on again. Paula had slipped her Browning into her shoulder-bag after checking and loading it.

`Something is wrong,' Marler reported. 'Look out of the window. Gates wide open – and one of those dragon's teeth chains laid across the drive a few yards beyond the entrance.'

`But where did you get the weapons?' Tweed demanded.

He was annoyed: they had no permits to carry weapons inside Germany. On the other hand Benoit had warned about 'a zone of maximum danger'.

`This afternoon – while you were all having a kip – I was busy,' Marler said in an ironic tone. 'I visited a chum, a German arms dealer on a barge along the waterfront. He told me business had tailed off something shocking since the Berlin Wall went down. I got this lot for a song – plus Walthers for Butler and Nield. And an Armalite for myself. All a question of knowing the right people.'

`Or the wrong ones,' Tweed rebuked him. 'Now I'm going to walk up that drive. Bob, Paula, you can follow at a distance. I don't want to startle Westendorf.'

`I'll find somewhere to park the car,' Marler decided.

Tweed walked slowly up the tarred drive, his footsteps making no sound. He stepped over the dragon's teeth chain – which would rip a vehicle's tyres to pieces and stop it in seconds. It was too quiet.

He could see the old two-storey stone villa in the distance. Lights on in the ground-floor windows behind closed curtains. On either side of the drive high, dense banks of rhododendron bushes concealed the grounds. He reasoned that the oppressive silence was due to the German occupying the villa by himself. Like Andover. Like Delvaux…'

The muzzle of a gun was rammed into the back of his neck. At the same moment a hand descended on his shoulder, a voice growled the command in English.

`Make one wrong move and I'll blow your head off.'

Inside the Four Seasons, Pete Nield, smartly dressed as always in a business suit, wandered into the spacious lounge area adjoining reception. A very attractive woman with a blonde mane, wearing a form-fitting black dress, sat on a couch. The dress was slit up one side and she had her elegant legs crossed. Lee Holmes.

Nield paused by a table of German newspapers and magazines. He pretended to be looking for something to read. Lee called out to him in her husky voice.

`Don't I know you? Surely you were at the Hilton back in Brussels? You were.' She patted the seat beside her. `Do please come and sit with me. I'm bored to distraction. I desperately need some entertaining man. You fit the bill.'

I would have thought there'd be a queue of men – waiting to distract you.' Nield fingered his trim moustache as he sat close to her. 'And of course I do remember seeing you, but you were always chaperoned by some man. Severe-looking type. My bad luck, I thought.'

`A gallant man.' She sighed, her bosom rising. 'How rare these days.' Her bare arm touched his sleeve as she took out her jewelled cigarette holder, inserted a cigarette. Nield flicked his lighter into flame. She shook her head and smiled warmly. 'I'm giving it up – this is testing my will-power. Absolutely silly, really.'

Nield smiled. He had known about her technique, but wanted her to feel he knew nothing about her.

`Why are you so bored?' he asked. 'I saw you with a military type who seemed very distinguished.'

`Brigadier Burgoyne. Distinguished for wanting his own way. Now he's trotted off on some official business, indulging in one of his investigations. He regards me as a piece of the furniture.' She smiled again. 'The only compensation is the pay is good.'

`Thank Heaven for small mercies. What would you like to drink?'

`Champers! To celebrate the beginning of our friendship.'

Tweed froze, remained quite still. The gun muzzle against his neck felt cold as ice. The hand on his shoulder was large and had a strong grip. Then he heard a new voice.