Colin Forbes - The Janus Man

`That's impossible,' Newman objected.

`I know him,' Tweed repeated. 'That little wave he gave me. Give me time. I'll remember…'

They boarded the ferry when it returned. Diana walked by herself to the bows and stood, arms folded, gazing at Travemunde. Tweed stayed back amidships with Newman.

`Let her alone,' he advised, 'something has upset her. When we get off I'll take her back to the Sudwind. She said something significant recently and I'm damned if I can. recall what it was. Maybe talking to her will bring it back…'

`In any case you like her,' Newman remarked drily. `And how will you spend your time?' countered Tweed.

`I have to report on the party to Ann Grayle. I promised her I would.'

`Then you must do your duty,' Tweed replied with a blank expression.

He had noticed a change in Newman's attitude to women since his return to London from the year in France. During his time abroad, Newman had told him, he had wandered round France on his own, trying to forget the bizarre murder of his wife in Estonia. He'd had nothing to do with women while in France. Now, gradually, he was returning to normal. His preoccupation with Ann Grayle proved the point.

`Why do you think Kuhlmann organized that raid on Dr Berlin's home?' Newman asked.

`No idea. One thing is for sure. The operation was Kuhlmann at his best and most ruthless. He exploited the element of surprise to the limit. The choice of timing.'

`I don't follow you…'

`Six o'clock in the evening. On the dot. He let the party get well under way. Everyone – including the guards – would be in a relaxed mood. Kuhlmann struck when they were at their most vulnerable. And that includes the guests.'

Tweed remained silent until the ferry was slowing prior to landing. He made his request as a throwaway remark.

`One thing I'd like you to do. Find out where Diana gets her money from. She has no visible means of support, as they say.'

`Ann Grayle has a pretty acid answer to that one…'

`Try that man she has on board. Ben. I must be off now. We can meet back at the Jensen…'

Diana was waiting for him just beyond the lowered ramp. She looped her arm inside his. Under her wide-brimmed hat her face looked even whiter than usual and he sensed her nervousness. It was the hottest hour of the day. The sun beat down on Travemunde, the ground gave up the heat it had absorbed during the day, the air was foetid.

Will you come back with me to the boat, Tweedy?'

`Of course. We can have a talk. That was a somewhat shattering end to the party…'

`And I'm responsible. Wait till we get to the boat and then I'll explain.'

`Champers do you?' she asked as they walked over the gangplank.

`Splendid idea. You're full of them.' Tweed's mood had become jocular. 'Let me uncork the bottle. Then we won't get half of it on the deck instead of inside us.'

He followed her down the companionway and she opened the fridge, produced a bottle and held it up for his inspection. 'Dom Perignon? Appeals?'

Tweed took the bottle and began peeling off the foil. She placed glasses on the working top, crossed to the leather couch and perched on it, her legs coiled beneath her like a cat.

`Oh, look,' she said, 'there's an envelope propped against the cupboard. Be a darling and open it for me. Later…'

Tweed had already noticed the envelope. Expensive paper. Her name was typed in capitals. DIANA CHADWICK. He opened the bottle, poured into the two tulip glasses she had placed on the counter, and carried them over to the couch. She eased her way to one end.

`Sit with me. I'm a bit edgy…'

`Get some of this down. You'll feel wonderful. Cheers!'

`Cheers!' She drank the whole glass, he refilled it, and she drank half the contents of the fresh glass. The sparkle came back into her deep blue eyes. 'Now, I'll tell you. A very grim policeman came aboard early this morning. Grim, but I liked him. If that makes any sense. A man called Kuhlmann. He reminded me of a human powerhouse. Could I have a drop more?'

`That's what it's for.'

`He's very clever, this Kuhlmann. No one else could have persuaded me to tell him what I did.'

`And what did you tell him?'

`About that dinghy with the outboard I heard crossing over the channel from the beach after midnight…'

`I said you ought to tell the police.'

`I know.' She was playing with a lace handkerchief. She looked up suddenly at Tweed. 'I also told him Dr Berlin has an outboard-powered dinghy, that the one I saw – the wake as I told you – was heading for the marina where he keeps his dinghy. That, I am sure, is why the police raided the party. I feel awful about it now.'

`Surely a lot of people have that type of craft?'

`I suppose so…' She drank more champagne and went vague.

`Let's have a look at your letter,' Tweed said briskly.

He stood with his back to her, masking what he was doing. He picked up the envelope between the flat of his hands.

Fortunately, the flap had been hastily closed and came open easily. He extracted the folded message with his fingertips, opened it and read the brief message which bore signs of being hastily typed. Even the signature was typed. He read it aloud to her.

"Will be away for a while. Look after Sudwind. Expenses waiting at bank. Berlin." ' He spoke over his shoulder. 'Can I keep this for a bit?'

`Why not?'

He slipped the folded sheet back into the envelope and slid the envelope inside his breast pocket. When he turned round she was lying back, her head resting on the cushion, staring up at the cabin roof. He sat down on the couch again.

`Diana, I can't quite understand it. He must have had this typed and delivered earlier this afternoon – which means he knew he would be leaving…'

`Not necessarily. That big Mercedes has everything inside it – including a desk flap and a small portable typewriter. He could have typed that while they were crossing on the ferry. Then he could have given it to one of his assistants, dropped him off when they landed so he could deliver it here while we were waiting for the ferry to come back.'

`He types himself?'

`Yes. He's always typing little notes with instructions.' Her eyes were sleepy as she watched him. 'He has many talents people don't know about. He plays the piano well. His favourite composer is Chopin. Stay the night with me here, Tweedy.'

`I was coming to that.' His tone was businesslike. 'After two murders nearby – and like those poor girls, you are also a blonde – you are not spending one more night aboard this cruiser. You come back to the Jensen and sleep there in your room. Is that clearly understood?'

`It's nice to have someone who cares. Yes, it is understood. I promise.'

`Then we'd better find Newman and get back to Lubeck. `After we've finished the bottle…'

She stretched out her right leg and rested it on his lap. He squeezed her ankle with his free hand, then shook his head as she raised herself and moved towards him.

`I'm fond of you, Diana, but I'm fully-occupied with a job which must be done. And I have a wife..

`Bob told me you were separated from her – have been for a long time.'

`Newman talks too much. We'll finish the champagne and then go…'

`An insurance job? You help people who are kidnapped – or who might be. Wealthy people…'

`That's right. I can't talk about it. Drink up…'

They collected Newman from Ann Grayle's sloop. Diana waited at the end of the landing-stage, keeping well away from what she called `that Grayle woman'.

It was only a short walk to the station, Travemunde Hafen. Aboard the empty train Diana sat by herself further along the coach, staring out of the window.

`She's upset,' Tweed explained to Newman, and told him about the letter and the outboard dinghy she had witnessed crossing to Priwall Island, the facts she had reported to Kuhlmann.