Rhinoceros

'He's been identified as Oskar Vernon, now staying at the five-star Atlantic facing the Aussenalster.*

'Now he tells me.' She smiled. 'Oskar, then, was whispering to my old friend, Barton, last seen in Bedford Square while I was with my friend, the tramp. I have very acute hearing. Oskar said, "We're going to have a bloodbath with that bastard Tweed and his whole team. Wipe them off the face of die earth. Soon now. We just have to trick them, get them well outside Hamburg. I've worked out how we do it." Having heard that, I thought I'd better make myself scarce. Oh, Oskar was wearing a violet shirt. Hideous.'

'So now we know.'

She reached for her half-empty glass of Scotch, put it down untouched. She pulled the scarf off her head, dropped it on the floor, removed the spectacles which had made her look like a schoolmistress. She looked as though she had squeezed the last drop of energy out of herself. She swayed. Tweed grabbed her by the shoulder. She closed her eyes, opened them again with an effort.

'I'm flaked out,' she said hoarsely. 'Can't move my legs. Sleep. I need sleep. For a week…'

She swayed again. She was half asleep already. He moved to the end of the couch. He just had time to grab a cushion, lay it on his lap, before her head fell on it. Leaning forward, he got hold of her legs under the knees, spread them along the couch. She half opened her greenish eyes, looked up at him.

'Thanks,' she mumbled. 'I know poor Mark is dead. Saw his body on the pavement when I got back…'

Then she fell into a deep sleep. Tweed understood now her erratic moods. The sight of Mark, half his head shot away, had shaken her up badly, accounted for her swift changes of emotion. He leaned back against the high end of the couch and fell fast asleep.

He woke in the morning to find her still fast asleep, her head in his lap. Daylight filtered through the closed curtains. His back felt stiff as a board but he had slept non-stop. He couldn't move without disturbing her so he stayed still until, after a few minutes, she opened her eyes, stared at him, smiled. Lifting her head, she sat up, planted her legs on the floor.

'A shower,' she said, suppressing a yawn. 'My kingdom for a shower.'

Tweed pointed to the bathroom, told her to take her time, that he'd have a shower when she had gone.

I'll order breakfast for us from room service,' he called out.

'But won't they think…'

'Who the hell cares what they think? What do you fancy for breakfast?'

When she had gone into the bathroom, he ordered orange juice, coffee, toast, scrambled eggs and tomato, croissants, marmalade for two people. Then he tidied himself up, checked in a wall mirror, decided he wouldn't have time for a shave but he didn't look too bad.

'Bathroom's yours,' she said, emerging more quickly than he'd expected.

She was wearing a white flannel robe she'd found in the bathroom and looked herself again. She smiled at him.

'Excuse the robe. I do have the dress on underneath.'

'I'd better hurry. Breakfast will come soon…'

During the first part of breakfast they didn't say much to each other. Lisa had said she was ravenous. Then Tweed, keeping off serious subjects, described to her the Aussen – or Outer – Alster. How the ferries zigzagged across it, moving from one landing stage to another, picking up and dropping off passengers. How, at the extreme distant end, it narrowed into little more than a wide stream with willows drooping into the water with small parks behind them.

'Sounds heavenly,' she said, watching him.

'We ought to take a trip sometime,' he suggested.

'I'd love to. Sounds so peaceful -you described it in such a graphic way. I think I'll get back to my room now.'

She returned the robe to the bathroom, straightened her creased dress, went to the door, looked back.

'Am I still on the team?'

'You were never off it.'

CHAPTER 24

Paula tapped on Lisa's door. She heard it being unlocked and approved of the caution. Lisa opened the door, looked pleased, invited her in.

'My face is a mess,' she explained. 'Do sit down while I try to make it look half decent.'

'You look OK,' Paula replied as she sat down next to the table with the phone.

'Don't feel it.'

'You have heard,' Paula began tentatively.

'About Mark being shot last night? Horrible, isn't it? I saw him on the pavement. I must have got back just after he had been killed. I felt sick.'

The phone rang. Lisa asked Paula to see who it was so she could finish her renovation. Paula picked it up, was about to ask who it was when a creepy voice spoke.

'Oskar here. I have news…"

Paula put down the phone as though it were red hot. She was careful not to look at Lisa, who turned round on her dressing table seat.

'Was it Tweed again?'

'Wrong number.'

'Tweed rang me a few minutes ago to tell me you and Newman were going with him to a business meeting. Said he hoped you'd be back in a couple of hours. You know I'm still feeling ill about poor Mark. You don't look too good yourself.'

'I'm all right. I'd better go soon. I just called to see if you had heard – and if so how you were.'

Paula was in a state of shock. Why had Oskar Vernon -she felt sure it had to be him – phoned Lisa of all people? She let herself out, saying nothing in case her voice might betray her.

In the corridor the same small chunky uniformed hotel cleaner was still operating his vacuum cleaner. She noticed that the trousers he was wearing flopped over his shoes. His jacket wasn't a wonderful fit. She walked towards Tweed's suite.

'Good morning,' she said as she passed the cleaner.

He grunted, didn't look up. Which was unusual. She'd found all the staff so polite. Maybe he was new. She knocked on the suite door and Tweed, wearing a new business suit, a coat over his arm, ushered her inside.

'You won't need a coat this weather,' she told him. 'It's a boiling day outside already.'

'You're right. Can't think why I took it out of the wardrobe. Had my mind on something else.'

The death of Mark, she thought. Or, more likely, working out his strategy for the meeting with Rondel and his partner. She sat down, couldn't think of anything to say. Shouldn't she tell him about the weird phone call in Lisa's room?

'Lisa,' he said, 'has had a bad time of it. She actually saw Mark's body on the pavement when she got back to here. From Bob's description, when he visited the morgue, it must have shaken Lisa up badly.'

'I can understand that.'

She was still trying to decide whether to tell Tweed when Newman arrived. He smiled at her, squeezed her shoulder.

'I can do without any more grim shocks today. What are the tactics for this morning?'

'Leave me to do the talking,' Tweed replied. 'You two keep your eyes open. You might just see something interesting.' He looked at his watch. 'Time to go. Nield has told the porter to have the Merc ready for us – the cream one, of course.'

When they entered the corridor Paula noticed the man using the vacuum cleaner had disappeared, but half the carpet still needed attention. Tweed had gone ahead, turned to call to Paula.

'I'm having a brief word with Lisa, then Keith…'

He tapped on Lisa's door and stood half inside when she opened it. Paula heard every word that was said.

'Lisa, I'm off to a meeting with Paula and Bob. Expect to be back in about two and a half hours. I hope you can then join us for lunch. You can? Good.'

He hurried on to Keith Kent's door, beckoned Paula and Newman to come with him. A heavy-eyed Kent let them in. Paula thought he looked as though he'd had no sleep. His desktop was scattered with Kefler's papers and he had a small ledger open. The page was a jumble of figures. He took the blue book out of a drawer and it had a marker inside it.