`I am very OK. I know the work I do.'
`So, when we operate everything will go smoothly,' remarked Hyde.
Ilena was lifting her shoulder strap back into place, then she buttoned up the blouse and roughly lifted the sleeve back up over the forearm and shoulder from Paula's hand pinioned by the leather strap. Standing up, she stared down at Paula, her trunk-like arms akimbo.
Hyde was replacing the scalpels neatly across the cloth and rolling it up with care. Refastening the knot, he slipped the heavy roll back inside his bag. Turning round, he gave Paula an even more ghastly smile.
`That was merely a rehearsal. I said you had nothing to worry about. You must learn to trust me, to have confidence in my abilities. Give her some more soup for lunch, Ilena. We must keep up her strength.'
Followed by Ilena, Hyde climbed the stairs, opened the door and disappeared. As usual, Ilena slammed the door shut. Paula heard the key turn in the lock. Her reaction was a mixture of relief and murderous fury.
A rehearsal! The sadistic bastard. She was bathed from head to toe in sweat. She'd have given anything for a bath, a change of clothes. As sweat dripped off her she suddenly thought the liquid might help.
Once again she began slowly twisting her damp wrists under the straps. They felt looser. Careful not to hurry, she went on working her wrists from side to side. Then she relaxed her fingers and pulled her arm upwards. This time her hand came half-free from the strap. Only the width of her knuckles held her prisoner. She began again, working her wrists from side to side.
`Are we getting anywhere at all tracing this Johnny Clausen?' Marler asked Butler.
They were standing on the south-eastern outskirts of Tinglev. The countryside was level with monotonous fields and a track leading across them away from the town. Marler's Mercedes was parked by the roadside behind the Volvo Butler had hired in Esbjerg.
`I've found out where Johnny lives. In a small cul-de- sac not far from here,' Butler replied. 'He's out on a job with his car, taking a passenger to Bolderslev – that's a short distance north of here. I'll be waiting for him when he gets back.'
`You have to make him talk,' Marler insisted. 'How are you going to go about it? Every minute counts.'
`In the back of my car on the floor is a long loop of rope. Bought it from a ship's chandler. Follow me..
He led Marler along the track. No one else was about. A few cows grazed in a nearby field. The track curved behind a large clump of trees and the landscape changed. Marler stared at a treacherous-looking stretch of marshland. Dark water stood still amid large tufts of acid-green, grass. Under the water he detected a bed of slime and mud.
`Johnny Clausen must talk,' Marler emphasized. 'Must tell us where he took Dr Hyde.'
`Leave it to me. Johnny will talk,' Butler said. 'I guarantee it.'
Pete Nield climbed out of his own hired Volvo. Carrying a photo of Dr Hyde, he walked into a small bar furnished with dark oak. The counter, the ceiling beams, the woodblock floor all oak. No one else was in the place as he approached the barman, ordered a glass of Coke.
`I'm looking for a friend who was supposed to be staying round here,' he began and smiled. 'I owe him some money. Here's a picture I once took of him. Have you by any chance seen someone like this recently?'
He placed the photo on the scrupulously clean bar-top. It was the tenth place Nield had visited that day up and down the coast and inland. The florid-faced barman, polishing a glass which was already gleaming, stared at the photo for longer than Nield would have expected. Then he looked up at his customer.
`Did you say this man was a friend?'
Sensitive to people's reactions, Nield heard alarm bells ringing. He fingered his trim moustache.
`I was being polite. Frankly I don't much like him. So that is another reason I want to pay back the loan with interest. Then I'm rid of him.'
`He was in here yesterday. He had three double gins. I had one other customer, a young attractive girl. He was making suggestions to her she didn't like. When he asked for another double gin I told him he'd had enough. He swore at me before he staggered out to his car.'
`To his Volvo?' Nield suggested.
'No. It was a blue Fiat. I went to the door to watch him drive off. The Fiat seemed to be a drunk as he was.' `He is staying here in Tonder?'
`No idea. Never seen him before. Never want to see him again. I spent twelve months in London once serving behind bars – and never saw such an unpleasant type.'
Nield thanked the barman and went out. He sat behind the wheel of his Volvo, drumming his fingers on the rim.
`Sighted in Tonder.'
He must report that to Marler urgently.
Tweed and Newman walked into the reception hall of the Hotel d'Angleterre while Cardon paid off the cab driver.
Newman had decided not to advertise the fact of his Mercedes' existence. He had left it in a car park near the Radhuspladsen – the Town Hall Square. Danish words were jaw-breakers. The three men had then taken a taxi to the hotel.
Tweed sat in a chair facing a receptionist across a desk, registered for three separate rooms. Lifting his case, he walked up the steps to an interior lounge area. Unlike the Four Seasons, this sitting area had no windows on the outside world. The chairs were comfortable but lighting was dim. A few groups of people were scattered round the room.
Lee Holmes, wearing a black off-the-shoulder dress, jumped up. She walked straight towards Tweed, with a slight but graceful swing of her hips. don't believe it,' she began. She kissed him on the cheek. 'You're following me.' She lowered her voice. 'At least I hope you are. I know a night club where we could have a lot of fun. A bit noisy but lively. Will you escort a lady this evening?'
`Not sure of my plans. Let's decide later.'
He was watching over her shoulder. Helen Claybourne had stood up from where she had been sitting with Lee and Willie. She strode over, very erect, held out her hand.
`Welcome to Copenhagen, Mr Tweed.' Her cool grey eyes gazed into his. 'Could we have a chat somewhere quiet?'
`He's mine,' Lee informed her.
Willie had trotted after them. Beaming all over his face, he clasped Tweed round the shoulder.
`My dear chap. How about a drink? Celebrate our reunion. It's a small world, or has that been said before? Never mind. A drink…'
`Not just now, thank you. We've only just arrived. I don't see the Brigadier.'
`Better look behind you. Creeps up on you like a cat.'
`I heard that remark,' a familiar voice growled.
Tweed glanced over his shoulder. Burgoyne had come from the direction of the old-fashioned elevator leading to the upper floors. Dressed in cavalry twill trousers, a navy blue blazer with gold buttons, and a cravat at his neck, he didn't look pleased to see Tweed.
`Can't shake you off, can we?'
`I thought it might be the other way round. Newman told Helen we'd stay at this hotel.'
`Helen keeps herself to herself. Interesting to hear she is on such close terms with Newman..
`Drop dead!' Helen told him savagely, her eyes blazing.
Tweed nodded, joined Newman and Cardon who had been watching and listening with amusement. He led them to the old-fashioned elevator and pressed the bell.
`There's a bank of elevators over there,' Newman remarked.
`More room in here with our luggage,' said Tweed, who had used the hotel before. As the elevator began to ascend he spoke again. 'Come to my room, both of you. Didn't take us long to bump into the Burgoyne Quartet. Significant.'
Inside the villa at Gentofte, Mrs Kramer entered Dr Wand's room at the rear of the house. Wand, studying a map of the coast of South Jutland, closed the map.
'What is it?' he snapped with unusual brusqueness.
`A woman calling herself Anne-Marie is on the phone.'