It was time for the Tinamou.
30
Noel hurried through the lobby of the George V, eager to get to his room, to Helden. Geneva was closer now; it would be closer still when they met Anthony Beaumont in Saint-Tropez and forced the truth from him.
Too, he was anxious to learn whether Buonoventura had returned his call. His mother had said she would let Sam know her plans. All Miles knew in New York was that Althene had left Mexico City for Lisbon. Why Lisbon? And who had followed her?
The image of the man in the black leather jacket came back to Holcroft. The steady look in his eyes, the acceptance of death … kill me and another will take my place. Kill him, another his.
The elevator was empty, the ascent swift. The door opened; Noel caught his breath at the sight of the man standing in the corridor facing him. It was the Verwünschte Kind from Sacré-Coeur, the fashion plate who had searched him in front of the candles.
«Good evening, monsieur.»
«What are you doing here? Is Helden all right?»
«She can answer your questions.»
«So can you.» Holcroft grabbed the man’s arm and turned him forcefully toward the door of the room.
«Take your hands off me!»
«When she tells me to let you go, I’ll let you go. Come on.» Noel propelled the man down the corridor to the door, and knocked.
In seconds the door opened. Helden stood there, startled at the sight of the two of them. In her hand was a folded newspaper; in her eyes was something beyond her astonishment: sadness.
«What’s the matter?» she asked.
«That’s what I wanted to know, but he wouldn’t tell me.» Holcroft pushed the man through the door.
«Noel, please. He’s one of us.»
«I want to know why he’s here.»
«I called him; he had to know where I was. He told me he had to see me. I’m afraid he’s brought us dreadful news.»
«What?»
«Read the papers,» said the man. «There are both French and English.»
Holcroft picked up a copy of the Herald Tribune from the coffee table.
«Page two,» said the man. «Top left.»
Noel turned the page, snapping it flat. He read the words, a sense of anger… and fear … sweeping over him.
NAVAL OFFICER AND WIFE LOST IN MEDITERRANEAN
St.-Tropez—Commander Anthony Beaumont, captain of the patrol ship Argo and a highly decorated officer of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, along with his wife, who had joined him in this resort town for the weekend, were feared drowned when their small boat foundered in an angry squall several miles south along this rock-bound coast. A capsized craft fitting the description of the small boat was sighted by low-flying coastal search planes. The commander and his wife had not been heard from in over forty-eight hours, prompting second-in-command of the Argo, Lt. Morgan Llewellen, to issue search directives. The Admiralty has concluded that Commander and Mrs. Beaumont lost their lives in the tragic accident. The couple had no children.
«Oh, God,» whispered Holcroft. «Did your brother tell you?»
«About Gretchen?» Helden asked. «Yes. She suffered so much, gave so much. It’s why she wouldn’t see me or talk to me. She never wanted me to know what she did, why she married him. She was afraid I might sense the truth.»
«If what you say is true,» said the well-dressed man, «that Beaumont was ODESSA, we don’t believe that newspaper story for a minute.»
«He means your friend in Berlin,» interrupted Helden. «I told him that you had a friend in Berlin who said he would transmit your suspicions to London.»
Noel understood. She was telling him she had said nothing about Geneva. Noel turned to the man. «What do you think happened?»
«If the British discovered an ODESSA agent in the upper ranks of the navy, especially one commanding a coastal-patrol vessel—a euphemism for an espionage ship—it would mean they had been duped again. There’s just so much they can take; there’d be no inquiries. A swift execution is preferable.»
«That’s a pretty rough indictment,» said Holcroft.
«It’s an embarrassing situation.»
«They’d kill an innocent woman?»
«Without thinking twice—on the possibility that she might not be innocent. The message would be clear, at any rate. The ODESSA network would have its warning.»
Noel turned away in disgust and put his arms around Helden. «I’m sorry,» he said. «I know how you must feel, and I wish there was something I could do. Outside of reaching your brother, I’m not sure there is.»
Helden turned and looked at him, her eyes searching. «You trust each other?»
«Very much. We’re working together now.»
«Then there’s no time for mourning, is there? I’m going to stay here tonight,» she told the well-dressed man. «Is it all right? Can I be covered?»
«Of course,» said the man. «I’ll arrange it.»
«Thank you. You’re a good friend.»
He smiled. «I don’t think Mr. Holcroft believes that. But then, he’s got a great deal to learn.» The man nodded and went to the door; he stopped, his hand on the knob, and turned to Noel. «I apologize if that appears cryptic to you, but be tolerant, monsieur. What’s between you and Helden also seems cryptic to me, but I don’t inquire. I trust. But, if that trust is found to be misplaced, we’ll kill you. I just thought you ought to know.»
The Verwünschte Kind left quickly. Noel took an angry step after him, but Helden touched his arm. «Please, darling. He, too, has a lot to learn, and we can’t tell him. He is a friend.»
«He’s an insufferable little bastard.» Holcroft paused. «I’m sorry. You’ve got enough on your mind; you don’t need foolishness from me.»
«A man threatened your life.»
«Someone took your sister’s. Under the circumstances, I was foolish.»
«We’ve no time for such thoughts. Your friend Buonoventura returned your call. I wrote down the number where you can reach him. It’s by the telephone.»
Noel walked to the bedside table and picked up the paper. «Your brother and I were going to Saint-Tropez tomorrow. To make Beaumont tell us what he knew. The news’ll be shattering to him. On both counts.»
«You said you were going to call him. I think it’s best that I do. He and Gretchen were very close. When they were younger, they were inseparable. Where is he?»
«Actually, I don’t know; he didn’t say. He just told me he’d reach me later this evening. That’s what I meant.» Holcroft lifted the phone and gave Buonoventura’s number to the operator.
«I’ll speak to Johann when he calls,» said Helden, going to the window.
The transatlantic lines were light; the link to Curaçao was made in less than a minute.
«You’re a pistol, Noley! I’m glad I don’t have to pay your phone bills. You’re seeing the goddamn world; I’ll say that for you.»
«I’m seeing a lot more than that, Sam. Did my mother call you?»
«She did. She said to tell you she’ll see you in Geneva in about a week. You’re to stay at the Hôtel d’Accord, but you’re not to say anything to anyone.»
«Geneva? She’s going to Geneva? Why the hell did she even leave the country?»
«She said it was an emergency. You were to keep your mouth shut, and not do anything until you see her. She was one upset lady.»
«I’ve got to get hold of her. Did she give you a telephone number—an address—where I could reach her?»