Colin Forbes - The Janus Man

Nield was inside the hotel when Tweed's cab pulled up at the entrance. A hundred or so metres back Butler watched as Vollmer's cab slowed to cruising pace. He saw the occupant peer out of the window as Tweed and Diana disappeared inside the hotel. Vollmer's cab then picked up speed and Butler settled back against his seat. Sooner or later he'd track down Brown Raincoat's destination.

At reception Tweed registered both himself and Diana in their real names. The two rooms Monica had reserved were ready and he paused to show her the luxurious reception hall and the dining-room, feeling glad to be back.

`It's a marvellous place,' she enthused. 'Simply divine.'

`Possibly the best hotel in all Germany.' He led her away from the reception counter, lowering his voice. 'I have some phone calls to make. The plane was on time – 12.55. Can you wait a little longer for lunch?'

`I have to unpack. I'll stay in my room until you come for me…'

Tweed had asked for – and been given – the same double room he'd occupied on his previous visit to Hamburg when he had identified the body of Ian Fergusson. Number 412. He tipped the porter who brought up his case and then, alone, stood for a moment gazing out of the window at the view. The foliage was still on the trees below him and beyond stretched the placid waters of the Binnenalster.

It was still holiday time. Crowds stood on the landing stage area at the end of the lake, not so far from where the police had discovered Fergusson's floating body by the lock-gates in the early hours. There was a queue for ice cream cones. He was thinking of poor Ian Fergusson. He shook his head, went to the phone, asked for the room number Nield was occupying, a detail he'd noticed in the hotel register. He asked Nield to come up and see him.

Tweed was standing in the middle of the living-room when Nield entered. The moment he arrived Nield knew something was going to happen. Tweed stood very erect, his voice was crisp, decisive.

`We're leaving here this evening after dinner. We're heading straight for Lubeck by train. After you've had lunch get a cab to the Hauptbahnhof, buy four single first-class tickets for Lubeck.

`That's quick…'

`I'm going to surprise the opposition by moving faster than they'll expect. After you've bought the rail tickets, phone the Hotel Jensen in Lubeck and book three rooms. Myself, Harry and one in the name of Diana Chadwick. Then call the Movenpick in Lubeck and book yourself a room there. You're back-up – out of sight.'

`Anything else?'

`Not at the moment.'

`Then I'd better get downstairs and grab a bite to eat.'

The phone began ringing almost as soon as Nield had left the room. Tweed picked up the receiver.

`Who is it?' he asked cautiously.

`Harry. Harry Butler. I tracked him. It's Altona.

`Get back here as fast as you can.'

In Lubeck Munzel had made his daily call to Vollmer at the usual time. Noon. He'd got the ringing tone from the flat in Altona but no reply. Swearing to himself, he left the station and walked back across the street to the International Hotel. He had no way of knowing that at that moment Vollmer was waiting at Hamburg Airport, checking arrivals from London. His man who normally carried out this assignment had gone down with an attack of gastritis.

Munzel took Lydia Fischer to the Movenpick for lunch. He felt he needed a change of surroundings, of menu. As they talked and ate their grilled sole and chipped potatoes Munzel was unaware he was being watched by Sue Templeton, the American girl friend of Ted Smith – the couple who had shown Kuhlmann where Munzel had thrown his motor-cycle into the river Trave.

`I'd recognize that man again if he'd grown a beard,' she had said jokingly to her English boy friend.

Now, as she ate her lunch with Ted, she kept glancing across the room at the blond-bearded man with the long golden hair. She really wasn't sure. She said nothing to Ted, who had only one topic in mind. An hour in bed with Sue to start the afternoon off.

Sue lingered over her coffee for some time when Ted had signed the bill. Then she suddenly grabbed her shoulder bag. `I think I'm going back to that shop where I spotted a dress.' `I'm going upstairs to get into my pyjamas…'

`And you'll still be in them when I get back. See you.'

She followed Munzel and the girl he was with out of the restaurant, still uncertain. Her walk was shorter than she'd expected. She saw them go inside the International, hovered as she checked her lipstick, then walked in after them. She went up to the concierge, gave him her warmest smile.

`That man with the blond beard who just came in with a girl. Is he staying here? He looks exactly like a friend I knew in New York.'

`He is staying here, yes.'

The concierge was discreet. He gave no name. Sue thanked him and went back to the Movenpick. Five minutes later Munzel came out of the lift and walked across to the station. Again he dialled Altona. This time Vollmer answered the phone.

`Tweed has arrived in Hamburg. Had a blonde girl with him. He's staying at the same place as last time – the Four Seasons. Call me tomorrow. Normal time..

Munzel stepped out of the phone booth with a feeling of immense satisfaction. He was quite sure that within the next few days Tweed would turn up in Lubeck. That gave him time to work out how he was going to do it.

Tweed had lunch with Diana in the dining-room, the same room used for breakfast. He preferred the grill room but that was closed. They were both dining off paillard de veau and a selection of fresh vegetables which Diana raved about.

`I've never tasted such wonderful vegetables, Tweedy. And look at the variety – broccoli, French beans, mange tout and the most gorgeous cauliflower. I simply love this hotel.'

`Yes, it is out of the ordinary.'

Tweed looked round. The only thing he found off-putting were the cherubs. Perched on plinths round the central dining area were sculptures of life-like naked cherubs. Very fat cherubs. He could do without staring at plump buttocks while he was eating, thank you very much.

`How long are we staying?' Diana asked over the dessert as she attacked a huge sundae in a tall glass.

`Hard to say.'

After lunch they wandered round the spacious ground floor. The walls were decorated with tapestries depicting men hunting on horseback. Diana revelled in everything, which, reflected Tweed, was one of her many attractions. He told her he had a few more phone calls to make and she said she'd rest in her room until he came for her.

Seated in a chair by the windows in the reception hall Harry Butler waited, reading a German newspaper. He was still clad in grey slacks, sports jacket, a white shirt and a Paisley tie. Tweed went up in the elevator with Diana, let her out on her floor, went up to his own, then walked down the staircase to the last landing and gestured to Butler to join him.

Inside Room 412 Butler slumped into an arm chair. Tweed sat behind the writing desk and listened.

`You were followed,' he told Tweed. 'He saw you come here, then went on in the same cab to his place in an apartment block close to the U-bahn station at Altona. It overlooks a small park. Apartment 28. There's the address.' He handed Tweed a sheet of paper torn off his pocket notepad.

`How did you find the exact apartment?'

`He went up in the elevator. I watched the numbers over the elevator bank, saw the floor where he stopped, ran like hell up the staircase. Got there just in time to see him disappearing inside 28.'

`He could have seen you?'

`Absolutely not.'

`We might just have the start of the communication line from here into East Germany. We'll leave him for the moment.'

`He knows where you are,' Butler pointed out. 'That could be dangerous.'