Rhinoceros

'I vote we move off,' said Harry. 'Where has Tweed got to?'

He looked along the road and the four strollers were quite a distance along it. Paula turned round and Harry waved frantically for them to come back fast.

The strollers changed partners for the walk back. Tweed joined Nield while Paula and Lisa followed a distance behind them. Tweed had diought one advantage of walking away was that Lisa wouldn't see what happened to the body. Despite her outward calm he felt sure it would take several days for her to get over her hideous experience with Delgado.

'Lisa,' Paula said quietly, 'there is something I've wanted to ask you and this is a good opportunity. If you don't mind.'

'Ask away.'

'When you were badly concussed and in the clinic back in London you tried to tell us something. You made such an effort I really admired you. What you said was Ham… Dan… 4S. We eventually worked out Ham meant Hamburg and 4S meant the Four Seasons Hotel. But what did Dan mean?'

'I said that? I've got no recollection of this.' Lisa looked at Paula. 'I can see the Hamburg bit and the hotel. Even though it's all gone from my memory.'

'Could Dan have been Danzer, the chauffeur to one of the partners controlling the Zurcher Kredit Bank?'

'Never heard of Danzer. Chauffeur to which partner? The one with the gold-rimmed spectacles?'

Paula almost missed a step. Lisa had, they thought, no knowledge at all of the partners. And the only time Paula had seen Milo wear gold-rimmed spectacles was when he had paid the bill at the Fischereihafen restaurant down by the Elbe docks. She had to say something.

'I don't know which partner he's chauffeur to – Danzer, I mean. It's a detail.'

But as they walked back all Paula's earlier doubts about Lisa flooded back into her mind. She was badly shaken.

The Sikorsky helicopter was within half an hour of taking off from its remote location at Hamburg's airport. All four VIP passengers were aboard. They were waiting for permission from the control tower to start their flight. The aircraft was luxuriously equipped with leather armchairs and the armed guard had brought down the wide aisle a trolley of every kind of drink imaginable. Gavin Thunder had asked for a stiff brandy.

He was seated next to the American Secretary of State, squat and with a high-domed forehead and a hard face expressing great intelligence. Not surprisingly, the Prime Minister of France and the Deputy Chancellor of Germany sat together several rows ahead.

'You seem nervous, Gavin,' the American remarked.

'I'm not too keen on helicopters.'

'Use them frequently. Useful for short urgent trips in the States. Something important in that case in your lap?'

'Only the complete operational plan.'

Thunder had the executive case open and inside were sheaves of typed papers, clipped together so there were seven copies of the document. He extracted one sheet and the rest came loose from the clip and scattered. He handed the sheet to his colleague.

'That's the important one. The rest are details.'

The American read the close-typed page divided methodically into sections. He was a fast reader.

'I like it. We're thinking on similar lines. You've divided up your country into six control areas, each commanded by a Governor with wide powers. And a secret apparatus of informers to report to the governor any dangerous protesters. Plus a Bill for Parliament which declares martial law without appearing to do so. Who is this Supreme Governor – Brigadier Barford?'

'A very experienced soldier who has also run Special Branch, our equivalent to your FBI. His views coincide with ours.'

'So all we need, which will happen soon, are riots such as the world has never seen. Then the Elite Club will take over. I presume preparations for the outbreak are well advanced. I have been informed they are.'

'Very well advanced. They are an essential element in our plan – to scare the populations of our countries witless to such an extent they will accept anything. Rather like the way Hitler came to power because the German middle classes were desperate to stop the Communists assuming power. I have replaced the man in charge of the earlier riots. A man I have great faith in witnessed them and thought they were feeble. I have put him in sole charge.'

'Anyone I know?'

'I doubt it. A man with a brilliant brain called Oskar Vernon. With Vernon and Brigadier Barford running the operation we cannot fail.'

CHAPTER 31

'There's a windmill,' Paula said, 'and the sails are turning.'

'That's because for the first time since we arrived in Germany a wind has blown up,' Tweed told her. 'It's a south wind so it will be warm. Don't expect any relief from the heat.'

'You're so encouraging. Now we're leaving Flensburg behind where are we heading for?'

'As close as we can get to the island of Sylt in the North sea – or the Nordsee as the Germans call it. Sylt is the last in the chain of German Frisian Islands. Immediately north of there and you're in Denmark.'

'Why Sylt?'

'Because I want to see if there are signs of preparations for a rendezvous of international statesmen.'

'You mean politicians, don't you?' suggested Newman behind the wheel of the blue Mercedes. 'There aren't any statesmen these days.'

'I stand – or rather sit – corrected. We're now on Route 199. In a while we move on to small country roads. I'll continue guiding you.'

Paula was staring out on to the sun-scorched countryside. Its character had changed from the monotony of the endless maize crops. It was becoming hilly, with copses of trees often growing by the roadside. More intimate and varied. Again the road was free of any other traffic and she welcomed the atmosphere of peace, the feeling that nothing awful could happen here. Tweed turned round to look at Lisa.

'You really are back to normal, I'd say.'

'Shall I tell him why?' Paula wondered and giggled.

'Go on,' Lisa urged her. 'Why not? It was funny.'

'We went into a restaurant in the Grosse Strasse after the incident,' she explained tactfully. 'We ordered coffee but Lisa was, naturally, dying to have a real wash-down. So she pretended to be ill and I escorted her to the ladies'. Then I stood on guard outside to stop anyone getting in. One unpleasant middle-aged woman tried to push past me. In German I told her the position and said she'd have to find somewhere else. She stormed off.'

'In the meantime,' Lisa took up the story, 'I'd stripped off, used up four flannels washing myself all over. I felt tons better when I'd dried myself even though I had to put on the same clothes.'

'That was a good idea,' said Tweed.

'Oh, there was something else,' Paula recalled, her tone of voice serious. 'I'm sure that while I was standing there looking through the windows into the street I saw someone we know. You're not going to believe this.'

'Try me.'

'I'd bet a lot of money I did see him. Striding down the street. It was his walk which caught my attention. You can always tell a person by his walk.'

'Who, for heaven's sake?' asked the exasperated Tweed.

'The Brig. Bernard Lord Barford.'

'What on earth is that gigantic aqueduct thing?' Paula wondered.

They had travelled quite a distance when the massive structure came into view. At the bottom of a slope leading up to it stood a stationary train.

'That,' Tweed said, 'is the famous Hindenburg Dam which carries the railway – the only access to the island – to Sylt. The train appears to be waiting for something, which is odd.'

'I can hear a machine flying in the air a long way off,' remarked Lisa.

'Bob!' Tweed's instruction was urgent. 'Take this turning to the right. We're nearly on it.'

Newman slowed, swung the car skilfully just in time to drive up a hedge-lined lane which climbed steeply. Ahead of it was the summit of a small hill with a dense copse of trees to the left. On top of a slightly higher hill behind the copse stood a windmill, its sails motionless.