Rhinoceros

'You told me that before. What do you think, Tweed? Seeing you might settle her, if she's still conscious.'

'Take me to her now,' Tweed said decisively.

Master led the way down the corridor, opened a door numbered 25. The room was spacious, airy, light. Lisa was lying in a bed under sheets and a blanket. Her head rested on a pillow and her eyes were closed. The right side of her head was covered with a large bandage. Tweed was shocked by her complexion. Normally she had a reasonably high colour but her face was ashen. Part of her red hair had been tied back with a ribbon to keep it clear of the bandage.

'You see,' said Sister Vandel, 'she's fallen unconscious again. This visit is pointless.'

Lisa opened her blue eyes, gazed at Tweed. She raised a limp hand, indicating she wanted him to come close to her. Tweed, upset, but not showing it, smiled, sat down on a chair next to the bed.

'You're going to be all right,' he said softly.

She smiled, raised the limp hand again, telling him she wanted him to take it. He took hold of it, squeezed the fingers tenderly. She feebly squeezed his in appreciation. She was opening and closing her mouth, clearly trying to say something.

'She mustn't talk,' commanded Vandel from the other side of the bed.

Tweed gave her a certain look, cold, fierce. It was a look Paula would have recognized, seen only at rare moments when he violently disapproved of a blunder. Vandel looked away, disconcerted.

Tweed bent closer to Lisa. The expression in her blue eyes seemed to communicate that she was desperate to tell him something. Her mouth opened again and he sensed she needed to speak clearly.

'Ham… Dan.' She made one final effort. 'Four S…'

Then she closed her eyes, letting go of Tweed's hand.

He stood up and Vandel came over to hurry him out of the room. Tweed told Master to send the bill to Park Crescent when Lisa was fully recovered and left the clinic. They were in the corridor, the door closed, when Tweed turned to Vandel as Master walked off.

'Sister, your patient is an important witness. There is a remote risk someone may try to get in here to attack her. I'm therefore posting a guard outside her room round the clock.'

'We do not allow…'

'Sister, look at this.' He produced the folder which identified him as Deputy Director SIS, opened it, held it under her nose. 'If you continue objecting I can always have a word with Mr Master.'

'That won't be necessary,' she said hastily.

'Harry,' Tweed called down the corridor, 'bring your chair up here. I want you to sit by this door to guard Lisa against any intruders,' he told him as Harry arrived, plonked his chair next to the door. 'The only people allowed inside are Mr Master, Sister Vandel here and any replacement she brings and introduces you to while she's off duty.'

'Clear enough,' said Harry, staring blankly at the sister.

'If she recovers,' Vandel snapped, 'she'll have to be taken to another room for a second X-ray.'

'Understood, but Mr Butler will accompany her. Another member of my staff will take over from Mr Butler in a few hours. I will work out a roster of guards. Meantime, Mr Butler is probably hungry and thirsty.'

'A big mug of tea with plenty of sugar and a bit of milk – and a sandwich, ham if you've got it, will do me,' Harry announced.

'We're not running a hotel for visitors,' Vandel rapped out.

'Then I'll have a word with Mr Master.'

'Oh, well, I'll see what I can do…'

She stormed off down the corridor, disappeared. Harry opened his windcheater a few inches, showed Tweed the butt of his Walther.

'No one except those you mentioned will get near her. That Vandal is the dragon of the clinic. There's always one.'

'Vandel,' said Tweed.

'Vandal will do for me,' Harry decided.

'I'll send Pete Nield to relieve you as soon as I can,' Tweed assured Butler.

'No 'urry…'

On his way out Tweed met Master again. He stopped to thank the consultant for what he was doing.

'One thing bothered me. Sister Vandel said at one stage if she recovers. I think she was simply frightening me.'

'One can never be sure, but I'm confident the phrase should have been when she recovers.' He looked annoyed. 'I'll have a word or two with Vandel. We'll take good care of the patient…'

Outside in the night Tweed found Newman seated behind the wheel of his parked car. He explained as Tweed got in next to him.

'I decided to stay with the car. It's unlikely any of those thugs will get into this area but I wanted to protect the car. How is Lisa?' he asked, driving off.

'I'd say she's completely exhausted, needs a lot of sleep and quiet. I didn't think she looked all that fresh when we left Park Crescent.'

He took out his notebook, wrote down Ham… Dan.,. 4 S. Then he showed the page to Newman. 'Mean anything to you? Lisa had trouble saying anything but that's what she said to me.'

'Not a thing. Is it important?'

'Lisa thought it was – to make the effort she did make to say that to me.'

'You probably didn't hear her properly. In her state it's likely she was confused.'

'I don't think she was. Could be the key to this bizarre international situation.'

'Heard on the radio Paris, Berlin and Brussels experienced the same type of trouble. The wreckers are abroad.'

'And it's just occurred to me,' Tweed ruminated, 'those are three of the cities Lord Barford visited recently. If we can believe what Aubrey Barford told Paula in a drunken stupor. And I think we can.'

CHAPTER 10

Marler had driven to Dorset, visited his contact, a retired manager in a security company, living in the model village of Abbotsbury, north-west of Weymouth. He'd suggested his contact might like to join him, but the manager had said sorry, he was no longer in shape.

'And those villains I saw ferried ashore last night were the toughest I've ever encountered…'

So, for several hours, Marler had sat in his car alone. He had driven off the road overlooking Chesil Beach up a steep track. He was now behind the wheel of his car, parked out of sight behind a clump of shrubbery. The height gave him a clear view over the seaway east of Weymouth, over Chesil and west towards Bridport. High-powered night glasses hung from a loop round his neck.

Chesil Beach was a quite unique phenomenon. Instead of sand, six miles or more of a great bank of pebbles extended from Weymouth westward. Marler knew the area, knew that near Weymouth the 'pebbles' were almost the size of small boulders, gradually diminishing in size as the bank stretched to the west where eventually they were truly pebbles in size. He also knew that fishermen, coming ashore in a fog, could tell where they were by checking the size of the pebbles.

It had been night for several hours and outside the air was a bitter cold. He was far enough back and above Chesil to keep his heater on. He had eaten sandwiches purchased from a roadside cafe on his way down from London, and occasionally drunk mineral water from a litre bottle.

Marler, the most deadly marksman in Western Europe, was blessed with an infinite patience. It was ten o'clock, very dark, when he saw something blazing out at sea, east of Weymouth. He focused his glasses, saw a small fishing boat on fire. No sign of a crew.

'The decoy,' he said to himself. 'To keep coastguards away from this area. They're coming and someone is well organized.'

A few minutes later he swore. He had just spotted a launch, a large vessel, packed to the gunwales with men, heading for the end of Chesil Beach near what was known as the Swannery. Then he saw the fog rolling in from the sea, blotting out the launch. He waited.

A few minutes later an old tourist-type bus, what his father would have called a charabanc, appeared from the direction of Bridport. It stopped, performed a two-point turn until it faced the way it had come. The vehicle was then parked near a point where Marler estimated the launch would beach. It carried the legend Topsy Tours. The fog swallowed up the bus.