They were admitted with Kuhlmann ushering in Paula, whom he hugged, and then the other two. Tweed then had the shock of his life.
'We shouldn't talk,' Tweed warned quickly. 'This place is probably bugged.'
'It was,' Kuhlmann replied. 'I ripped out every listening device myself.'
But it was Hugo Westendorf Tweed was staring at. The German had crossed the large hall with a brisk step, holding out his hand. He carried himself erect, his grip was strong. There were no signs of strain on his face and he greeted his visitor with a warm smile.
`Welcome to Schloss Tannenberg, my friend. It is so very good to see you.'
'And I thought someone – maybe your son, Franz – had been kidnapped.'
`But he has been. Three months ago. Which is why I resigned. It was a demand of the kidnappers – which I at once acceded to.'
36
They were sitting in a comfortable library Westendorf had suggested as a good place to talk. Their German host stood in front of a blazing log fire inside a huge stone alcove. The walls were lined with bookcases from floor to ceiling and Tweed had the impression the books were read. He was mystified by the situation and phrased his question with care.
`As far as you know, is Franz in good health?'
`You mean,' Kuhlmann intervened, 'has Westendorf received a severed arm or hand – like Andover and Delvaux. The answer is no. Westendorf communicated with me as soon as Franz had been kidnapped. I have worked in great secrecy. The press have no idea of what happened.'
`What action did you take?' Tweed asked.
`I launched the greatest dragnet ever mounted in the Federal Republic. I turned over Germany. Always in secrecy. I contacted informants in the underground criminal world and they started looking. Like so many respectable citizens, they hate the alien refugees – many of whom compete in the rackets.'
`The object was to locate Franz if you could?'
`Only partly.' It was Westendorf who explained. 'I had heard from Andover and Delvaux the dreadful experience they had suffered – I travelled to meet them in Liege. Kuhlmann's main purpose was to keep the kidnappers and my kidnapped son on the move. The doctor who carried out amputations on Andover's daughter, on Delvaux's wife, would need peace and quiet – above all, security – to perform his fiendish work. Kuhlmann made sure they never had the time. He missed trapping them three times by hours – but they kept running like scared rabbits.'
`But what is the present situation?' Tweed enquired.
Kuhlmann had lit one of his cigars. He waved it in the air like a baton as he replied.
`Franz Westendorf was freed from an isolated farmhouse outside Bremen a few hours ago. His three captors were shot dead. I obtained permission from the new Minister of the Interior – a friend of Westendorf's – to use our elite anti-terrorist team.'
`That ends the chance of identifying the mastermind behind all this,' Tweed observed.
`No chance!' Kuhlmann snapped. 'The kidnappers were gypsy rubbish from the East. They'd had no idea who was controlling them. I emphasize I only took this line of action with the full consent of Westendorf.'
`It was blackmail.' The German ex-Minister stiffened as he spoke. 'I will never give in to blackmail. And Franz, who is eighteen in three days' time, holds the same view.'
`You showed a lot of courage,' Tweed remarked. 'But you did resign as Minister, as well as your membership of INCOMSIN and other organizations.'
`On Kuhlmann's advice,' Westendorf told him. 'The aim was to confuse the man behind the kidnapping. At first, he thinks I'm reacting like Andover and Delvaux. Meantime Kuhlmann is harassing the kidnappers, keeping them on the move, always looking over their shoulders.'
`How did you eventually trace Franz?' Tweed asked.
`As I'm sure you know,' Kuhlmann replied, 'from your one-time experience as Scotland Yard's youngest superintendent in Homicide, you need a little luck. But you must have the wit to know it when you are given the luck. A schoolboy identified the original vehicle used in the kidnap as a grey Audi. One of his friends found the empty Audi parked near this villa, little knowing the kidnap was in progress. The schoolboy – for a bit of fun – burst the yellow balloon his friend had attached to the rear of the Audi. I found this fact in a routine report. So I knew the Audi might still have a limp balloon dangling from it – something the kidnappers might not have noticed. I circulated the report.'
`And then?' Tweed enquired as Kuhlmann took a puff at his cigar.
`Having switched cars many times, I'm sure, the damned fools hung on to the Audi. Earlier today a motorcycle patrolman in Bremen saw an Audi stopped in the traffic – and noticed a limp yellow balloon hanging from its rear. It was foggy and he followed it into the country to this farmhouse. He used his radio to Bremen police HQ and I heard the news inside thirty minutes in the Action Centre I'd established here at Berliner Tor. A unit of the anti-terrorist team was flown to Bremen…'
`On rather a long shot,' Tweed commented.
`Not too long. I'd first phoned Bremen and the locals said the farmhouse had been rented three months ago with a bank draft from Luxemburg City. That was enough for me. I ordered the raid to go ahead. You know the result.'
`I congratulate you,' said Tweed.
Westendorf had earlier poured glasses of hock for his guests. He walked over to Paula, sitting next to Newman, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
`All this must have been very tiring for you. I have heard you go almost everywhere with Tweed. How is the hock?'
`Very refreshing,' she replied gratefully.
`Then, gentlemen, I have a suggestion.' Westendorf's blue eyes were alert, his manner decisive. 'I wish to discuss certain very important matters with Tweed. The next step we take. But I find the villa has become claustrophobic, so let us drive to my motor yacht, the Holsten V, moored at Blankenese harbour on the Elbe. And I would be glad of your company,' he said to Paula. `Intelligent women often think of angles men overlook.'
`Good idea,' agreed Tweed. 'But I'm curious about one thing, Kuhlmann. Why did you destroy all the bugs?'
Kuhlmann removed the cigar from his mouth. 'I toyed with the idea of using them – arranging rehearsed conversations. Westendorf vetoed the idea.'
`Why?' Tweed asked his host.
Westendorf made a chopping motion with his hand.
'I resented the abominable invasion of privacy. And Kuhlmann agreed for another reason.'
`I decided,' Kuhlmann explained, 'that psychologically it was another move which would confuse the man directing the kidnappers. What you call a carrot and stick manoeuvre. The carrot was Westendorf resigning all his posts – demanded by the rat who phoned him after the kidnap. Then the stick was my ripping out all the listening devices I had spotted – installed when the villa was empty.'
`Any idea where they were made?' Tweed enquired. `Hong Kong.'
Paula noticed the night had changed as they stepped into Westendorf's stretched black Mercedes limo. It was a damp cold now, the stars had disappeared and wisps of mist were drifting towards the villa across the grounds. She also saw the dragon's-teeth chain had been temporarily removed as they moved down the drive.
At Tweed's request, they stopped outside the entrance and he got out to have a word with Marler sitting behind the wheel of the Mercedes 600. A plain-clothes man was stationed close by under a tree, armed with a sub-machine-gun.
`We're driving to Blankense for a meeting aboard a yacht Westendorf has moored in the harbour,' Tweed told him.
`I'll follow at a discreet difference. Don't argue,' Marler said amiably. 'I've got a feeling-you might just need some back-up…'
Westendorf had taken the wheel with Tweed beside him: in the back Paula revelled in warm comfort with Newman next to her. As they drove past more villas the mist thickened. On both sides they were passing through what – in good weather – would be scenic parkland.