Colin Forbes - The Power

She was openly flirting. Tweed decided to hit her hard when the time came with his first question. He suggested champagne. He rarely drank but he wanted her in a co-operative mood – she might tell him more that way.

'Lovely,' she said. 'My favourite tipple. You'll join me?'

Tweed ordered two glasses of champagne from the waiting barman. Glancing along to the end of the bar he saw Philip Cardon sitting on a stool, nursing a drink as he read a paperback.

Jennie gazed in the same direction as Cardon looked up from his paperback. She waved to him, then shook her golden mane as though to say, 'No good. You were pipped to the post.'

'Cheers!' said Tweed and they clinked glasses.

Jennie drank half the contents of her glass while Tweed downed his in two long gulps. Before leaving Paula he had drunk a lot of water, hoping it would keep him sober. Jennie finished off her drink.

'Another?' Tweed urged. 'You'll join me?'

'Sky's the limit.'

She grinned appreciatively at his using her own words back at her. They consumed most of the refills before Tweed threw the question without warning.

'When did you first know Julius Amberg was coming to stay at Tresillian Manor?'

'But I didn't.' She looked at him, her eyes wide open with innocence. 'Not until we were leaving for the cottage at Five Lanes an hour or so before he arrived.'

'Then why did you think you were leaving at all?'

'The Squire said he had some friends coming he rented the manor to from time to time.'

'Did you ever talk to one of his servants, a girl called Celia Yeo? She was found dead at the foot of High Tor – which is not far from Five Lanes. Someone pushed her over the abyss.'

'How perfectly horrible.' She played with the stem of her empty glass. Tweed, you're some kind of investigator. You know something? I'm beginning to get the idea you're investigating me.'

'What I am investigating,' Tweed said grimly, 'is a series of murders…'

'You mean those poor people at Tresillian Manor?'

'Within the past twenty-four hours three more people have been murdered here in Zurich – one man and two women,'Tweed said grimly.

'You're frightening, Tweed. How does any of this concern me?'

'Where is Gaunt?' he asked.

'He's on his way to Basle…'

'By plane?'

'No, he's driving the hired BMW there…'

'Why is he going to Basle?' Tweed demanded.

'On some sort of business. How the hell would I know? I don't know anything about his affairs.'

'Don't get worked up,' he said quietly.

'Why the bloody hell shouldn't I?' Jennie blazed. 'I'm being interrogated like a suspect.'

'It's Gaunt I'm interested in, not you,' he said mildly. 'How long have you known him? Now don't jump down my throat. I am trying to find out why those poor people were brutally massacred.'

'I've known Squire Gaunt just over two weeks. Really, I think I should go.'

'Stay a little longer – help me to find out who is behind these hideous murders…'

Louis Sheen was startled to find after he had shown the cab driver the address on the sheet of paper that they were driving back along the route to the airport. The BMW with the Swiss driver followed them carefully, keeping one vehicle between himself and the cab. Behind him Norton's driver adopted the same tactic.

Within ten minutes the cab turned off the main road and pulled up outside a modern apartment block. Sheen paid him, climbed out carefully, manoeuvring the suitcase clamped to his wrist. Norton watched him go inside the building, then gave his driver fresh instructions.

'There's a phone box a few hundred yards beyond where we are now. I have to make a call. Drop me outside it, then wait for me. Keep your eyes staring ahead…'

Norton had seen the BMW park out of sight behind a big truck which stood stationary. He realized that from this point the Swiss could keep the exit to the apartment block under surveillance. As his own car stopped he jumped out, ran to the phone box, inserted coins, dialled the Baur-en-Ville, asked for Marvin Mencken.

'Yes, who is this?' Mencken's distinctive drawl asked.

'It's me. I arranged for you to check on a competitor.'

He was referring to Tweed, but was careful not to mention him by name.

'We know his exact whereabouts now,' Mencken snapped.

'And?'

'Well, it is all arranged,' Mencken said irritably.

'You pick him up and escort him to the meeting?'

The word escort meant exterminate.

'We're all set up for when he pokes his nose into the side-street. Don't worry any more about the competition. He'll co-operate. End of problem.'

'Make damned sure it is. The end…'

Norton slammed down the phone, went back to his car. It was all beginning to come together. Amberg had flown to Basle – so the film and the tape must have been transferred to the Zurcher Kredit Bank branch in that city.

He would fly that evening aboard flight SR 980, departing Zurich 7.15p.m., arriving Basle 7.45p.m. Sheen would find the message waiting for him in the apartment with the air ticket to board the same flight, to take a cab on arrival at Basle Airport to the Hotel Drei Konige. Norton, under a different name, would be staying at the same hotel.

Earlier he had given Mencken instructions over the phone to lead a team of men who would also fly to Basle. They would stay at the Hilton. While he waited for Sheen to emerge another cab had already drawn up outside the apartment block. Norton glanced at the parked BMW. He had no doubt the Swiss inside it would follow Sheen to Basle. There Norton himself would personally take care of the nuisance.

Yes, everything was coming together. And within the hour Tweed, who was proving to be a potential menace, would be dead. Norton felt the adrenalin surging inside him at the prospect of final action.

'Have you ever met Eve Amberg?' asked Tweed, casting about for a significant link between Cornwall and Zurich.

'I'm pretty sure I saw that woman in Padstow,' Jennie recalled as she sipped her third glass of champagne.

'I wasn't aware you knew her. If I'm right how would you recognize her?' Tweed queried.

'When Gaunt was leaving her villa the other day – not the day when you came up to me in the BMW – I saw her very clearly saying goodbye to Gaunt at the front gate.'

'But surely that was after you'd seen her in Padstow?'

'That's right. I have a photographic memory for faces.'

'So when did you see Eve Amberg in Padstow? I suppose you couldn't recall the exact day?'

'The day her husband arrived at Tresillian Manor just before the massacre. I was with Gaunt, having a quick drink at the Old Custom House early in the day. He went outside to look at his wretched boat – I followed him after finishing my drink. I saw Eve when she was hurrying away from South Quay.'

'And you're positive it was Eve Amberg?' Tweed pressed.

'I'm damned sure it was that woman. Damned sure.'

Tweed wondered why he thought she could be lying. Was it the double reference to 'that woman'? Also, if true, what she had said placed Jennie in Padstow at the time.

'I must go now,' she said. To a party.' She had checked her watch. 'It's been lovely talking to you. Do let's do it again…'

He helped her on with the lilac coat but she said she'd carry her scarf which had lain underneath the coat. As they moved towards the door Cardon was already opening it, disappearing outside. Tweed opened the door, let Jennie go out first. She dropped her scarf as he joined her and the ice-cold atmosphere of night hit them.

A cream Mercedes parked at the top of the street began to move towards them. The rear window was open. From inside the barrel of a gun projected. Cardon, standing against the wall, cannoned into Tweed. As he was falling to the ground Tweed deliberately collided against Jennie, who was still crouched low to retrieve her scarf. A hail of bullets thudded against the wail, sending chips of masonry flying in all directions.