'To tell Marler we're going out to see someone. And also that Harry is going to guard our rear.'
Newman, as arranged, caught them up as they entered the hall. He kept his voice down as he spoke.
'Mark handled that cleverly. Anyone near us who knew English would have heard him talking about New York, then asking what my job was. He's astute. Look who's here.'
They were about to walk down the steps into the street when Lisa appeared from nowhere. She was dangling her shoulder bag by its strap and smiling as though all was well with the world.
'Going somewhere?' she asked Paula.
'Just a long stroll,' Tweed replied quickly. 'We have something we want to talk over in confidence.'
'Can I come with you?'
'You look really tired,' said Paula, having a go at her. 'I'd suggest you go to bed and get some sleep…'
They reached the street and started walking along the pavement towards the landing stage. Lisa ran after them, caught up with Tweed.
'I really am sorry I blew my top. I didn't mean-'
'Lisa,' Paula snapped, 'go back and get some sleep. Didn't you hear Tweed say we had something confidential to talk over?'
Lisa blinked, turned on her heel, went back and climbed the first few steps. She stayed there, waited a short time, then peered after them.
'That wasn't very nice of either of you,' Newman protested. 'I could have shooed her off much more politely.' He frowned. 'I sense good relations with Lisa have broken down. Had a row?'
'She was very rude to Tweed in his room,' Paula told him.
'It isn't that,' Tweed said, glancing over his shoulder. 'I want to see how much of an effort she'll make to get back into our good graces. And here's a taxi coming…'
With the aid of a map he explained to the driver exactly where they wanted to be dropped. The driver looked at them as though surprised, then nodded.
'Don't think he thought it was a good idea,' Paula whispered.
They stopped talking and Paula gazed out of the window as the cab drove at speed deep into Hamburg. Huge solid buildings loomed above them and there was no one else about. At long intervals the streets were lit by tall lamps and then they again plunged into shadows. Paula slipped her right hand inside her shoulder bag to make sure she could grab her automatic quickly. Tweed was following their route, studying his street plan.
'They go to bed early,' Newman commented. 'Not a soul about.'
'They work hard, get up early,' Paula replied, to say something to keep her nerves in check.
The cab stopped in the middle of nowhere. Weird modern buildings hemmed them in. The driver looked back uncertainly, kept his engine running.
'Is this where you want to get off?' he asked in German.
'It is,' Tweed assured him.
'You're certain?'
His manner was uneasy. Paula noticed he had kept the doors locked. He peered at her, frowning.
'This is exactly the point,' said Tweed, handing him the fare plus a generous tip.
'Thanks very much,' the driver said. 'You are coming back?'
He scribbled his name, Eugen, on a card giving the firm's name and phone number. Tweed slipped it into his wallet. The cab disappeared quickly.
'I heard a motorcyclist behind us,' Newman remarked. 'Now he's stopped somewhere.'
'That's Harry,' Paula told him. 'I'm glad he's come,'
They started walking past the weird buildings that reminded Paula of gigantic modern sculptures. It was very quiet, very humid. She thought she smelt a whiff of oil.
'How far to the Elbe?' she asked.
'Not far,' Tweed told her, having put his map away.
It was disturbingly quiet as they walked downhill. Not a soul in sight anywhere. She looked back, hoping for a comforting sight of Harry. Nothing. But when Harry followed you he was the Invisible Man. It was unnervingly silent, then she heard the faint swish of water as they reached the bottom of the hill. They had reached the docks, the Elbe. Tweed led them to his right. She saw a street sign. Elbstr.
To her left as they walked slowly in the heat she had her first sight of the river. About as wide as the Thames in London. Above them loomed immensely tall cranes. Halfway up the huge structures she saw control cabins. There seemed to be dozens of the cranes. All motionless. She thought they looked like Martians which had just landed. She saw one vast structure, squatter, resting on railway lines so its position could be moved when barges arrived. Lights high up gave spasmodic illumination, emphasizing the black shadows. There was no moon to see – the sky had a heavy overcast which must have drifted in recently.
She felt tiny, and a little nervous, walking below these monsters.
'When the Germans build they build big,' she commented.
'Hence the enormous Panther tanks they used in the Second World War that I've read about,' said Tweed. 'I've seen pictures of them. They fought like tigers and caused us a lot of trouble during the Normandy landings.'
'Just so long as we don't see one coming down the street,' she retorted.
'Rather unlikely,' Newman assured her.
Across the far side of the river Paula saw another army of cranes deployed. More lights glowed from a great height. Two freighters were moored for the night with several large barges.
'It just goes on and on,' she commented.
'They are,' Tweed informed her, 'the second largest docks on the Continent. The only bigger system is Europort down in Holland. But these docks are catching up.'
A chain clanked in the night. She nearly jumped out of her skin. It was the first sound she had heard since they'd begun their long plod along Elbstrasse.
'Just a barge being moved by the current,' Newman remarked. 'That would be its mooring chain.'
'Creepy down here,' Paula commented.
She had stopped looking up at the cranes. But she found herself very aware of their presence. At least they were immobile. Tweed raised an arm, pointed ahead.
'See that grassy bank, the row of terrace houses on top of it. That's where Dr Kefler must live. And there's the footpath he told us to climb. All we have to do is find No. 23.'
'Lovely view he's got,' Paula said. 'Looking out on those cranes which rise up higher than the houses.'
They began climbing the narrow footpath with Tweed in the lead. The huddle of small old houses bunched together along the terrace did not look very upmarket. Paula was wondering why a man of Kefler's eminence lived like this.
No. 23 was close to where they had left the footpath, where they were perched on top of the slope. Tweed looked up at a first-floor window where lights shone behind net curtains. A window was raised. Before Tweed could see the figure leaning out, the beam of a powerful torch shone in his face. It was switched off quickly.
Very quickly he heard steps running down stairs inside. Behind him Newman was shuffling his feet impatiently. Their position, standing on top of the slope, was very exposed. His eyes swept the metal forest of cranes but he could see no movement. Then the two new locks Tweed had noticed on the heavy old wooden door of Kefler's house were turned from inside. The door was pulled inward and a small figure stood in the dark. Why no lights?
'Come in immediately, please,' a deep voice said in English.
They filed into the gloom, the door was closed, locks turned. Light flooded a small hall. The small plump man held out a hand to Tweed.
'I apologize,' he began in English, 'for shining the torch in your eyes. I had to be sure it was you. Keith Kent's description fits you perfectly. Oh, I am Dr Kefler…'
Tweed introduced his two colleagues. Paula thought Kent's picture of Kefler as a teddy bear was perfect. The German had brown hair en brosse, eyes like buttpns which gazed at her through glasses with the thickest lenses she had ever seen. He smiled warmly, was cuddly, she felt, then dismissed the word as silly but appropriate. He wore a velvet smoking jacket, his short legs were clad in dark blue slacks and he almost danced with pleasure as he ushered them into a room on the first floor at the front. They had to be careful climbing the narrow twisting staircase. Paula guessed that the room he showed them into was his study.