Colin Forbes - The Janus Man

In front of the three-storey mansion – running along its full width – was a raised terrace. A broad flight of stone steps led up to it from the lawn. At the foot of the steps stood a group of men in civilian clothes who were obviously guards, barring the way.

A large oblong table covered with a white cloth stood in the very centre of the terrace. A dozen people sat at the table, nine men and three attractive girls, two brunettes and a redhead. At the far side of the table in a central position sat a bulky figure with a black beard.

He sat very still, a grey beret pulled down over his head. A cloak of the same colour was thrown over his shoulders and draped over his body despite the torrid heat. But the looming hulk of the mansion behind threw a shadow over the terrace.

Dr Berlin wore large tinted glasses and he was holding up a pair of binoculars aimed at the entrance gateway. Tweed sipped at his champagne as he studied his host from a distance of about fifty metres. Newman smiled cynically before he spoke.

`One thing I'll give him – he's well-organized.'

`What makes you say that?' asked Diana.

`That sudden switch of attitude on the part of bully-boy Danny Warning puzzled me. I see what happened now. From his elevated position Berlin can see through those field-glasses clear to the gate. He recognized me. And by his left hand on the table is a walkie-talkie. He can issue instructions to every guard on the premises through that. How did you manage, Tweed?'

`Received as an honoured guest…'

`You can see why now. He saw you through the binoculars – and for my money this is a damned weird set-up.'

`I can see the "how",' Tweed said slowly. 'What I don't see is the "why" – why he should be so interested in inviting me here so he can see me…'

`Or so you can see him,' Diana interjected flippantly.

`And this is as close as we get,' Newman remarked.

Across the lawn was strung a thick rope slung from poles rammed into the grass. The area beyond was empty of guests and more guards in civilian clothes patrolled up and down behind the rope.

`You know what I think they were checking me for?' Newman remarked to Diana as they strolled back into the crowd. 'A camera. You said he didn't like his picture being taken. Now I wonder why?'

`He's just naturally shy. Hates publicity. There are very few photographs of him in existence. He wouldn't even let me snap him. We've lost Tweed,' she said suddenly.

Tweed was still standing where they had left him, taking polite sips at his glass while he apparently admired the mansion. But all the time he was studying Dr Berlin. His host swivelled the field-glasses and the twin lenses focused directly on Tweed. Aware of the scrutiny, Tweed held his ground, staring back.

Apart from manipulating the binoculars the man rarely moved. Others at his table chatted away to each other, drank and refilled their glasses, ate from plates piled with some kind of edibles and seemed to be enjoying themselves. Dr Berlin put the binoculars down on the table, still staring at Tweed through the tinted glasses, his hands hidden behind two large coffee pots.

Difficult to see his expression at that distance. The beard didn't help. The sheer lack of motion in the man fascinated Tweed, who stood equally still. There was no one else near him as he remained staring at the terrace, one hand in the pocket of his safari jacket, the other holding his glass.

He felt a soft hand grip his forearm and he knew without looking round it was Diana. She tugged gently, urging him to join her. He waited a moment longer, gazing at the terrace. The side of her face touched his. He felt the soft outline of her breast against his upper arm. 'Come on, Tweedy,' she whispered.

He let her lead him away, into the crowds, weaving her way until they reached Newman who was standing alone, his expression grim. He looked relieved as they came up to him.

`There,' Diana said, 'I've rescued him. He's safe now.' `Safe? What on earth are you talking about?' Tweed asked. Newman replied. `Do you realize that standing out there in the middle of the lawn on your own you made the perfect target?'

`Stuff and nonsense…'

The hot, airless afternoon drifted past. Waiters brought an endless supply of trays stacked with food, with more glasses of wine. Tweed studied the other guests. Smartly-dressed men and women. Middle class. But Germany these days was almost one great middle class. Local businessmen and merchants with their wives. Doubtless a few marzipan kings. Lubeck was famous for its marzipan.

Some faces he recognized from his prowls round the marinas. The sailing buffs. But no one he could see from the old Kenya brigade.

Tun, isn't it?' Diana said. 'Hove parties…'

`Must have cost him a mint of money,' Tweed replied. 'Where does Dr Berlin get his money from?'

`Various organizations which support his activities to help the refugees. Most of the guests here will have contributed to one association or another. They feel they are all right, so they give something to help the less fortunate…'

'I wonder if anyone audits his books?'

`Cynic!'

The party broke up suddenly in a riot of confusion at exactly six o'clock.

The three of them were standing near the entrance gates – which had been closed – when the fleet of cars pulled in at the kerb. Kuhlmann himself pushed open the right-hand 'gate, followed by a team of men in plain clothes.

Danny Warning tried to stop him. Kuhlmann shoved his identity folder in the stocky security chief's face. He pushed him aside roughly, shouting orders to his companions.

`This is private property,' Warning rasped.

`And this…' Kuhlmann shoved a piece of paper in his face, 'is a warrant to search the grounds and the premises. Get out of my way or you're arrested…'

A sudden hush fell over the crowd of guests. A sea of faces turned as Kuhlmann marched across the lawn towards the mansion. With a gesture he summoned Tweed, Newman and Diana to follow him. The team of men with him spread out, taking guests' names.

They broke out beyond the crowd and Tweed stopped as Kuhlmann wrenched up the rope with a savage jerk. Tweed grasped both Newman and Diana by the arm as Kuhlmann moved across the open lawn.

'Look,' said Tweed. 'The terrace…'

Dr Berlin's special guests still sat at the oblong table, all faces turned towards Kuhlmann. But there was a gap in the centre. Dr Berlin's chair was empty.

'Diana,' Tweed said urgently, 'is there any other way out of this place?'

'Only the drive alongside the lawn…'

As she spoke Tweed heard the sound of a car's engine driving past them down the drive concealed behind trees towards the Mecklenburger-strasse. He turned and began running for the gates. Diana was amazed at how fast he could move. Newman ran after him and Diana followed.

Tweed reached the gate as a black Mercedes with tinted windows swung out of the drive and past the gates heading for the ferry. He ran after the vehicle, thanked God he was wearing the safari jacket Diana had persuaded him to buy. He kept on running and in the distance he saw the ferry was about to leave. He paced himself, running more steadily, covering a lot of ground.

He was in time to see the Mercedes – which had a tinted rear window – driving aboard the ferry. He kept on running. The silhouette of a man sitting in the rear turned and looked back. Tweed had a vague impression of a head wearing a beret, a black beard. Dr Berlin gave him a little wave and then the ramp was raised and the ferry departed for Travemunde.

Tweed stopped running, swore aloud, stood panting to regain his breath as Newman and Diana caught up with him. `He got away,' said Tweed, wiping sweat off his brow. `You look furious,' Diana said. 'Why?'

`The bastard waved at me. But it's not that. I know that man. I've seen him before. Talked to him. I'm sure of it.'