Vertigo.
Only Paula noticed the way he stood stock still, as though hypnotized by the horrific height of the thing. Oh, my God, she thought, I'd forgotten. It's his ultimate terror. Vertigo.
She squeezed his arm. He shook his head to stop her saying anything. He'd realized that she'd understood. He took a deep breath as Van Gorp emerged from the entrance and waved for them to come on. What were they waiting for?
They were waiting for Blade who had wandered off on his own. The Sabre Troop commander was studying the tower from every angle and position. Tweed obviously thought it might be important. He had checked it with a critical eye. He joined Van Gorp and the others mounted the steps and went into the spacious reception hall.
'I've bought tickets,' Van Gorp announced breezily. 'The lift is over there. I think we can all just squeeze in if we have it to ourselves…'
The lift – with no view of the outside world – ascended faster than Paula had expected. They had all managed to cram themselves in but they were pressed together and Tweed was hidden behind Blade's tall straight back. He caught Paula looking at him anxiously and winked. There were several levels he noticed from the button panel he could see in a gap between Newman and Van Gorp. One for the restaurant. Who the devil could get any food down – keep it down – up here?
The lift doors slid back. Van Gorp led the way. 'We're on the viewing platform,' he called back cheerily.
Fresh air met Tweed as he stepped out and for the fraction of a second he paused, then forced himself to keep moving, stiff-legged. The platform running round the tower was open. A rail no higher than his waist circled it. Christ! Paula touched his elbow as though by accident. He walked to the rail, grasped it with both hands, stared down. Like gazing over an abyss. Straight down. Sheer drop. Paula stood close on one side, Van Gorp on the other. In the basin barges like match-boxes were moored four abreast. Tweed saw his knuckles were white, gripping the rail like a vice. He forced his hands to relax, holding the metal rail lightly. He concentrated, made himself observe.
Several police launches berthed at the inner end of the basin. He raised his level of vision. The Maas stretched away, a wide river flowing towards the distant sea. Crammed with shipping. Barges, freighters, tourist boats returning with their living cargo.
It was late in the afternoon, early evening. The sun was setting, a wave of purple dusk darkening the clear sky. Lights coming on all over the miniaturized city. He felt a little giddy. The drop was drawing him over the rail. He looked up quickly.
'Glorious view,' said Van Gorp. 'Most spectacular in Holland.'
'Must be,' Tweed said. 'Think I'll walk round the platform. You stay with our friend, Paula.'
He moved away before she could protest. He had a strong urge to stay close to the circular tower, away from the rail. He compelled himself to put one foot in front of another, staring out at the panoramic view.
Blade had disappeared. Continuing his slow walk, Tweed found him leaning out over the rail, far out, gazing down as though estimating the possibility of scaling the tower. God, if he slips… Tweed walked on. The platform was deserted. He changed direction, crossed to the rail to see what was below.
A large green park with toy trees. No one inside it at that hour. The pulling sensation began again. He walked on. It seemed a hell of a long way round. Then he saw the others. Butler, Newman, Benoit and Van Gorp with Paula who stared in his direction, gave him a warm smile but stood her ground.
'Fantastic tower this,' Van Gorp began again.
'How high are we?' Tweed asked.
'A hundred and four metres – three hundred and forty feet. The restaurant is just below us. Then there's the crow's nest up there. That's closed in with glass…'
Then why the hell didn't you take us there? Paula thought. This is agony for Tweed, but he won't let on. And I can't do a damn thing.
'Look up,' Van Gorp urged. 'See the tower going on higher above the crow's nest? Spectacular is the only word.'
'Great. Just great.'
Tweed looked up and the vertigo seemed worse. The immense height of the needle made him feel dizzy again. He looked up for what would seem a normal length of time, then dropped his gaze. The Dutchman was pointing now, one long arm raised, index finger extended.
'Like to take a look at the Space Tower, Tweed? This down here is nothing compared with up there. Right at the very top. Take you to the lift. Come on. Your ticket covers the trip…'
'Have we the time?' Paula asked.
'Only take a few minutes. See half Holland from up there. Almost. The North Sea, too. Not to be missed.'
'I'm getting rather thirsty,' Paula persisted.
'We can go to the restaurant while Tweed makes the trip on his own. It's a much smaller lift. See the diameter up there? Very narrow. This way, Tweed.'
The round trip, as the Americans say,' joked Tweed.
He followed Van Gorp who led him to another lift at a higher level, pressing the button. Paula was nearly going spare. Tweed saw her expression, shook his head.
'Go get a drink. Be back soon. No time at all…'
Newman came alongside her as Tweed entered the lift. They watched the doors close on him. 'Why didn't you go up with him, you thoughtless idiot?' she hissed. 'It will be a terrible ordeal – suffering as he does from vertigo.'
'Oh, my God! I'd forgotten – absorbed by the view. You're right. ..'
'I doubt if you've any idea what vertigo's like,' she went on.
'Paula,' he whispered, 'vertigo takes different forms. Once I went up by lift to the top of the Duomo in Milan -the Cathedral. Only a hundred feet up. I came out into the open, walked down a flight of steps at the front, then noticed I could see between the stone balustrade pillars down into the street. I was paralysed. Luckily no one was about – I crawled back up those steps.' He raised his voice, called out to Van Gorp waiting to lead them down to the restaurant.
'How high up is that Space Tower?'
'One hundred and eighty-five metres-six hundred feet.'
'Charming,' Newman muttered.
'Oh, one point I forgot to mention,' Van Gorp said. That Space Tower is a small glass cabin which revolves.'
'Jesus!' Newman muttered again. 'Now he tells us. Maybe I'd better go up…'
'Not now,' Paula snapped. Too late – it will be noticed. He'll cope. Somehow.'
Penned up inside the much smaller elevator Tweed was tempted to press the button for the crow's nest. Briefly. He pressed his thumb firmly against the top button and stood motionless.
The elevator shot up much faster than he'd expected, climbing like a rocket. He felt he'd left his stomach behind on the platform. The ascent – up nearly another three hundred feet – took only a few seconds. It will be better at this height, Tweed thought. Like looking down from a plane which never bothered me. The doors slid open, he stepped out.
It wasn't better, it was worse. The elevator doors closed behind him. He was alone inside a small circular cage with glass walls. The light was a glare. He took out a pouch, attached his clip-on tinted glasses over his spectacles, moved close to the glass window.
The sun was setting behind the distant horizon of the sea, a blood-red disc sliding out of sight. Blood. Lots of blood. Why did he think of that now? The sun sank from view. He removed the tinted lenses. He looked down and shuddered. He was gazing down the sheer side of the precipice-like column with a bird's-eye view of the platform so far below. He blinked, feeling disorientated. It felt as though the floor was moving. An illusion… God, no! He looked up again and saw the view had changed. The floor was revolving.
He felt giddy. The world began spinning slowly. He was going to faint. Never! Extracting a tube of mints from his pocket, he popped one in his mouth. The bitter taste revived him. Must get on with the job.