Colin Forbes - This United state

Paula unlocked the room door with the key Tweed had left with her. He had asked her to stay behind in case Kent arrived during his absence. They all followed her inside, with the exception of Nield, who said he was going to his room to make a phone call.

Keith Kent was sitting in an armchair. In his hand he nursed a glass of brandy. Introductions were not necessary. They all knew the visitor. Kent lifted his glass.

'With the compliments of Paula. Central heating to warm me up. At least, that's my excuse.'

'I hear you have news,' Tweed said, taking off his coat while the others did the same. Paula took them to hang them up. 'I'd like to hear it,' he said, occupying an armchair close to Kent.

'And I expect you'd all like some hot coffee,' said Paula as she picked up the phone without waiting for a reaction.

Keith Kent was the soul of relaxation. No matter how tense a situation might be, he never showed any sign of nerves. As usual, he was smartly dressed, clad in a dark blue suit, pale blue shirt and a Chanel tie with a motif of peacocks.

'I expect Paula has told you,' he began, 'that the Americans are in an uproar. Behaving as though they don't know what to do next. And don't like it.'

'How do you know all this, Keith?'

'This morning I called in at the Zurcher Kredit Bank again – to check that my transaction with the fortune in dollars had been completed. Turned out I didn't even have to speak to the teller. She was occupied – in a big way. A couple of Americans, one of them banging his ugly fist on the counter and shouting at her.'.

'Could you describe him?'

'Not very tall. He has a very big head, clean-shaven, with a boxer's face – slit mouth, tough jaw. Very wide across the chest, tapers down to small feet. Hair brown. He glanced at me once – eyes hard as diamonds.'

'Jake Ronstadt,' Paula said to herself.

'Would he recognize you?' Tweed asked.

'Doubtful. I wore a scarf pulled up over my chin, a hat with the brim pulled down. Normal wear, considering the weather.'

'Go on.'

'As I said, he was shouting at the girl. "There was a fortune in this account and now you show me a balance sheet with zero funds." Then he lowered his voice but I have acute hearing, as you know. He went on raving. "I want to see a friggin' director. I want to see him now. Got it?" That was when he started crashing his fist down on the counter. What the girl said next didn't help.'

'What did she say?'

'That there wasn't a director on the premises. They were away, holding an executive meeting. He really blew his top at that. "Get on that friggin' phone and tell a director to get back here before I bust this place to pieces. Millions and millions of dollars can't vanish, you stupid twit." That was when I quietly left the bank.'

'You said there were a couple of Americans. Can you describe the other one?'

'A tall thin man with a hard thin bony face. I heard the short one call him Vernon.'

'Sounds like that could be Vernon Kolkowski,' Newman interjected. 'I was shown photos of various thugs when I was in New York. The police captain said he was called the Thin Man, a notorious killer. They could never get him. If there were witnesses willing to testify they ended up floating down the Hudson River.'

'Sounds like a suitable candidate for the people we are up against,' Tweed commented.

'After I left the bank,' Kent went on, 'I sat in my parked car to see if anything else happened. It did. About five minutes later the short man with the big chest stormed out of the bank. He walked straight across the street. A car had to come to an emergency stop to avoid running him down. The American crashed his fist down on the car's bonnet, swore foully at the driver and went on to his car. Vernon followed more slowly, as though he didn't want to be too close to the other one. He had to dive into the car as it started moving off.'

'Paula told me the Americans had gone berserk. Probably your word.'

'It does mean,' Kent pointed out, 'that my conjuring trick has worked. Their millions have disappeared into thin air. Could take them weeks, even months, to trace them.'

'Thanks, Keith. You've really achieved something. Don't forget to send me a bill.'

'Oh, I'll bill you.' Keith finished off his brandy and grinned. 'Should I hang around a bit longer?'

'Yes. Where are you staying?'

'At the Hilton.'

'That's fortunate. The thugs are at the Euler, more at another hotel, the Victoria.'

'I'll show you out,' said Paula as Kent stood up. She fetched his coat. 'Yes, I'm coming down in the lift with you.'

'Let's keep in touch,' said Tweed. 'And thanks again…'

Less than a minute after they had left Nield arrived. He accepted Tweed's offer of coffee, settled himself on a couch next to Newman.

'I waited until Kent had left. I made the call a while ago. I had to slam down the phone when Beck tried to ask me questions. He was trying to keep me on the line while he had a trace put out.'

'You kept it brief, then,' Tweed said.

'Simply asked him to take down an address as soon as he came on the line. Then told him he'd find a body there. I had a silk handkerchief over the mouthpiece. Then Beck started to ask me something. I slammed the phone down. Couldn't have been on the line more than thirty seconds.'

'Good.' Tweed looked up as Paula let Marler into the room. 'I trust Irina got home safely'- and without your being seen?'

'Of course she did.' Marler went across to a wall, leant against it. 'And of course she didn't see me.'

'What was that General Guisan business? I gathered it was a password.'

'Exactly that. Kurt once told me that if he went down and later I could get here, I should meet someone in that room. He said if I used "General Guisan" I'd get some valuable information.'

'General Guisan,' Tweed mused. 'The C-in-C of the Swiss armed forces during World War Two. He stopped the Nazis from invading Switzerland by clever threats.' He stopped speaking as the phone rang. Paula answered it. She put it down quickly.

'Beck is here. On his way up.'

Tweed braced himself for an aggressive Beck. Instead, the Swiss police chief came into the room with a quizzical expression. He accepted Tweed's offer to sit down, refused his offer of coffee. He gazed round at them all, one by one.

'All present and correct. I think that's the English phrase.'

'It is,' Tweed agreed.

'In case it's news,' Beck continued, his tone ironic, 'four corpses were found in a street near Market-platz early this morning. All Americans. All with diplomatic passports. All blown to kingdom come by a grenade.'

'Disturbing,' said Tweed.

'So, well before dawn, I phoned the Euler. The night receptionist knows me, recognized my voice. I asked him to read out a list of Americans staying there. Recent arrivals. Only one had a suite. I guessed he was the top man. A Jake Ronstadt.'

'We met the gentleman briefly in London.'

'So,' Beck went on, 'I asked to be put through to him.

He was not happy at being woken at that hour. He was even less happy when I gave him the news, read out the names of the deceased. He admitted they were members of his staff, as he put it. Had to. They were registered as staying there.'

'What was his exact reaction, Arthur?'

'Thunderous! Had I caught the villains who committed this foul crime? I hadn't? Why not? He was reporting this to the American Embassy in Berne. I told him it would take time, that I had only just begun the investigation. He swore at me. I asked him what their profession was.'

'That must have foxed him,' Tweed commented.

'It didn't. He repeated he was getting in touch with Berne. I said I thought that was his best move. He slammed the phone down on me.'

'He. sounds to have been disconcerted.'