Inside Tweed was questioning the chief receptionist.
`We need three rooms with baths. You can manage that? Good. I'd also like the room number of my friend, Erich Lindemann.'
`Mr Lindemann isn't staying with us. He always does when he is in Oslo…'
`You mean he checked out today?'
`No, sir. Mr Lindemann hasn't stayed with us for the past two months.'
So much for Miss Browne and her knowledge of Scandinavian languages, Tweed thought. I'll bet she can't speak a word of one of them. But, of course – Lindemann is the linguist. He wouldn't want an assistant who could understand what he was saying on the phone.
`I have another friend who is staying here. Miss Diana Chadwick.'
`Now she is with us.' The receptionist glanced over his shoulder. 'Room 736. But she's out. Her key is on the rack.'
`Don't mention I enquired when she comes back. I want to surprise her.'
Newman and Nield came inside at that moment and registered. On their way up in the elevator Tweed warned them not to unpack, to be ready for departure at a moment's notice. He had just dumped his bag in his own room when the phone rang. A Captain Palmer was waiting to see him.
`Send him up, please. And ask room service to send up two pots of coffee.'
Palmer was a tall, thin, wiry-looking Norwegian in his early thirties. Dressed in a plain grey business suit, he shook Tweed's hand warmly, sat down and crossed his legs. He had thick sandy hair, a long nose and dark observant eyes with a hint of humour in them.
`Too long since we met, Tweed. I gather this is an emergency, so let us dispense with the greetings. What can I do to help?'
`A large power cruiser is approaching the entrance to the fjord. White colour with brass trimmings. Called Nordsee. I've had it shadowed by a Sea King, now waiting at Fornebu. If I send out my chopper again it might frighten off the man aboard from heading for his ultimate destination…'
`Which is?'
`I've no idea yet. I wonder whether you could arrange for at least one police launch from Sandvika to keep an eye on the Nordsee's movements. It appears to be heading for Oslo, but I need to know any alteration in course. And discretion is the order of the day.'
Palmer shook his head. 'Not a police launch. They only patrol the fjord near Oslo. What we need is the Coastguard. They operate in the outer reaches of the fjord. I can make the call now from here. We should have one vessel watching your prey within thirty minutes. A more precise description of the Nordsee would help.'
`I'm not good on boats…'
Tweed called Newman in his room, asked him to come, and when he arrived explained what was needed. While the two men talked he phoned down to ask if Diana had arrived back. She hadn't. Palmer then took over the phone, dialled and spoke rapidly in Norwegian. He put down the receiver.
`A Coastguard vessel will be on station shortly. The commander will report to me personally by radio direct to my HQ. I will then call you if there are developments.'
`I believe you're supposed to make a report of all incidents?' Tweed remarked.
`That is so.' Palmer shook hands again and went to the door. He turned before he left. 'But then again, I often have the most extraordinary lapses of memory.'
The next few hours – while Tweed waited for Diana to come back to the hotel – were tense. Night fell and Tweed arranged a roster for dinner. While he ate with Newman and Butler Nield stayed in the reception hall, seated in a chair. The instructions Tweed gave were precise and surprised the others.
`She may already have her bag packed and try to leave when she knows I'm here. If necessary, you are to forcibly restrain her in her room. Then call me via reception.'
They ate in the Grand Cafe, attached to the hotel, a large and rather old-fashioned place which overlooked the main street. Newman looked round, fascinated by the other diners. He'd noticed some of them at their tables an hour earlier. He remarked on the fact to Tweed, who sat gently drumming his fingers.
`Yes,' Tweed agreed, 'it's like pre-war customs in England I've read about. Gone forever. People – the locals – come and sit here for ages talking. It's part of their way of life.'
`And you're bothered about something? Diana?'
`Diana, yes. It's getting so late. But also, no report from Palmer. Something has gone wrong. I sense it.'
'This has happened before at this stage of the game… `True. This particular game though is the most dangerous I've ever played in the whole of my career so far.'
They were about to leave the Grand Cafe when Nield appeared at the door and beckoned to Butler, who jumped up and walked over to him. They conversed briefly; Nield vanished in the direction of the entrance hall and Butler returned to their table.
`She's just collected her key and gone up in the elevator.'
`Then I'd better get up and see her.' Tweed's tone was so grim, there was a ruthless expression on his face Butler had rarely seen. Tweed stared at him. 'I'm going to grill the hell out of her. You and Pete had better come with me. Stay outside her door – in case she tries to make a run for it. If she does, stop her.'
He walked straight out of the restaurant to the elevator bank, pressed the button, waited, stepped inside the elevator without a word. As it ascended Butler and Nield exchanged glances behind his back.
Tweed walked out into the corridor, checked the room number indicator, strode off to the left, turned left again and then right. He rapped on the door of 736. Diana, clad in a white sweater and a cherry-coloured skirt opened it.
`Tweed! How on earth did you…'
`We have to talk.' He pushed past her into the bedroom, closing the door. 'You have to talk – tell the truth. For the first time. Sit down.'
`When I'm asked nicely…'
`Sit down! Question number one. How long have you known Dr Berlin?'
She sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs as she studied him from under her eyelashes. Tweed remained standing, hands clasped behind his back.
`Over twenty years. You know that…'
`The real Dr Berlin I mean. Hurry up. I'm short of time.' `I don't know what you mean.'
`Why were you so scared out of your wits when you found the locks had been changed on the Sudwind?'
`I knew it was a warning.' Her voice had changed. She had a lace-edged handkerchief she began picking at. 'I thought at first I wouldn't be able to get at any of my own things – until I saw my drawers had been left alone.'
`Who were you scared of?'
`Whoever had changed the locks…'
`How have you managed for money all these years since you left Kenya?'
`You think I've slept with men, don't you, Tweed?' `No. So who gave you money to live on?'
`He did. He made me a regular allowance.' A vehement note came into her voice. 'I never slept with him. Not once.'
`I can believe that. So what made you worth the allowance?' `I'm frightened. Horribly frightened.'
`Why?' demanded Tweed in the same brusque tone, 'did you run out on me? Take the night express to Copenhagen, then fly up here?'
`Because I was horribly afraid – after I heard that American girl had been killed on the beach. I knew it must be him. I thought I'd be next. I'm a blonde. I have a girl friend who works in Oslo. I've had dinner with her. And Oslo seemed far enough away from Lubeck. I panicked. I want to start a new life. I'm sick of being a kept woman – even though I never performed the services a kept woman normally renders.'
`So, why did Dr Berlin keep you? As a witness? As one person who gave him credibility? One person who would say he was the same man as the Dr Berlin in Kenya? Do I have to drag it out of you, for God's sake?'
No, not any more. You're right. I was his witness. When we first sailed from the Med to Lubeck years ago he saw me. How he knew who I was I don't know. Maybe from a photograph. Perhaps someone told him I'd known Berlin well in Kenya. I was on my beam ends for lack of money…'