Colin Forbes - The Janus Man

They ate in the Grand Cafe, attached to the hotel, a large and rather old-fashioned place which overlooked the main street. Newman looked round, fascinated by the other diners. He'd noticed some of them at their tables an hour earlier. He remarked on the fact to Tweed, who sat gently drumming his fingers.

`Yes,' Tweed agreed, 'it's like pre-war customs in England I've read about. Gone forever. People – the locals – come and sit here for ages talking. It's part of their way of life.'

`And you're bothered about something? Diana?'

`Diana, yes. It's getting so late. But also, no report from Palmer. Something has gone wrong. I sense it.'

'This has happened before at this stage of the game… `True. This particular game though is the most dangerous I've ever played in the whole of my career so far.'

They were about to leave the Grand Cafe when Nield appeared at the door and beckoned to Butler, who jumped up and walked over to him. They conversed briefly; Nield vanished in the direction of the entrance hall and Butler returned to their table.

`She's just collected her key and gone up in the elevator.'

`Then I'd better get up and see her.' Tweed's tone was so grim, there was a ruthless expression on his face Butler had rarely seen. Tweed stared at him. 'I'm going to grill the hell out of her. You and Pete had better come with me. Stay outside her door – in case she tries to make a run for it. If she does, stop her.'

He walked straight out of the restaurant to the elevator bank, pressed the button, waited, stepped inside the elevator without a word. As it ascended Butler and Nield exchanged glances behind his back.

Tweed walked out into the corridor, checked the room number indicator, strode off to the left, turned left again and then right. He rapped on the door of 736. Diana, clad in a white sweater and a cherry-coloured skirt opened it.

`Tweed! How on earth did you…'

`We have to talk.' He pushed past her into the bedroom, closing the door. 'You have to talk – tell the truth. For the first time. Sit down.'

`When I'm asked nicely…'

`Sit down! Question number one. How long have you known Dr Berlin?'

She sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs as she studied him from under her eyelashes. Tweed remained standing, hands clasped behind his back.

`Over twenty years. You know that…'

`The real Dr Berlin I mean. Hurry up. I'm short of time.' `I don't know what you mean.'

`Why were you so scared out of your wits when you found the locks had been changed on the Sudwind?'

`I knew it was a warning.' Her voice had changed. She had a lace-edged handkerchief she began picking at. 'I thought at first I wouldn't be able to get at any of my own things – until I saw my drawers had been left alone.'

`Who were you scared of?'

`Whoever had changed the locks…'

`How have you managed for money all these years since you left Kenya?'

`You think I've slept with men, don't you, Tweed?' `No. So who gave you money to live on?'

`He did. He made me a regular allowance.' A vehement note came into her voice. 'I never slept with him. Not once.'

`I can believe that. So what made you worth the allowance?' `I'm frightened. Horribly frightened.'

`Why?' demanded Tweed in the same brusque tone, 'did you run out on me? Take the night express to Copenhagen, then fly up here?'

`Because I was horribly afraid – after I heard that American girl had been killed on the beach. I knew it must be him. I thought I'd be next. I'm a blonde. I have a girl friend who works in Oslo. I've had dinner with her. And Oslo seemed far enough away from Lubeck. I panicked. I want to start a new life. I'm sick of being a kept woman – even though I never performed the services a kept woman normally renders.'

`So, why did Dr Berlin keep you? As a witness? As one person who gave him credibility? One person who would say he was the same man as the Dr Berlin in Kenya? Do I have to drag it out of you, for God's sake?'

No, not any more. You're right. I was his witness. When we first sailed from the Med to Lubeck years ago he saw me. How he knew who I was I don't know. Maybe from a photograph. Perhaps someone told him I'd known Berlin well in Kenya. I was on my beam ends for lack of money…'

It came pouring out now Tweed had broken through the dam. He still remained standing, showing no sympathy, not daring to risk stopping her flow of words.

`He invited me to his house on Priwall Island. I went quite happily – until I saw him in his study. I knew at once that he wasn't the man I'd known in Kenya. He admitted he wasn't. Then he put me a proposition.'

`Go on! Don't stop now.'

`You're being beastly to me. All right.' She- sat stiffly as she continued. 'I had very little money – Ken, my husband, left nothing when he was killed hunting in the bush. It wasn't a secret – that I'd no money. He offered me a generous monthly allowance if I'd tell people he was the Dr Berlin I'd known in the old days. As you said, he needed a witness. I accepted.'

`What did you think this impostor was up to?'

`Oh, he told me some story – that he was the original Berlin's half-brother, that he wanted to carry on his charitable work, that he could do that best if he had his brother's reputation. For raising funds for refugees, things like that.'

`You believed him?'

`Not for a moment.' She was shredding the lace handkerchief. `And he knew it, but he didn't care. He let drop a remark which suggested he was engaged in some kind of smuggling. I thought, what's the harm? I needed the money.'

`Wait a minute.' Tweed produced a document from his breast pocket. 'Read that. It's the Official Secrets Act.'

'Why?'

`Just read it.' Tweed went to the door, asked Butler and Nield to come in for a moment. He explained they were witnessing the signing of the Official Secrets Act by Miss Diana Chadwick. When she had signed the document the two men left the room.

`Now,' said Tweed, 'you must know that Dr Berlin is not only an impostor, he isn't even German. He's English.'

`Yes.'

`Tell me anything you can about his real appearance – without that beard he grows every time he returns to Lubeck when he pretends to be meditating or some other rot. His habits.'

`He collects fine wines…'

`What?' Tweed let out the exclamation involuntarily.

`I said he collects fine wines. He even has a dozen bottles of Chateau d'Yquem in his-cellar at his mansion. He says it's a good investment. And once I caught a brief glimpse of him without his beard just after he'd arrived. He had a loop of hair drooped over his forehead. Rather like Hitler.'

`A catlick?'

`That's right.'

`Now.' Tweed stared hard at her. 'While we were in England I took you round with me to visit four men in their homes. I watched carefully your reaction when you met them – and their reactions. I couldn't spot a reaction which gave any of them away. One of them is Dr Berlin…'

`Really?'

`Yes, really.' Tweed's tone was sarcastic. 'That was why I took you with me. And don't deny it. I checked how much money you had in your handbag before we visited my first suspect. Two hundred and fifty pounds…'

`How very gallant of you.'

Tweed took two steps forward, stood over her. 'You little fool. We are dealing with a mass murderer. And you are the only witness who can point the finger at him. How much do you think your life is worth? After we'd visited all four men you had another four hundred pounds in that handbag. All of them had an opportunity to pass that money to you out of my sight'

`What does my signing that document mean?' she asked quietly.

`That none of our conversation in this room can ever be passed on to another person. If it is, you can be prosecuted and sent to prison.'