'Pity we couldn't have followed them. But the tracking signal is under Ronstadt's car. You could be right about the Black Forest. Maybe we ought to take turns in driving up close to the Euler, standing watch on Ronstadt's car. Newman and I would be the best bet, taking pre-arranged watches.'
'I don't think so.' Tweed shook his head. He looked up. Paula and Newman had entered the restaurant, came to join them. 'I've something to tell you while this place is quiet…'
Tweed then repeated what he'd told Marler about Beck's visit to him. He also told them about Marler's suggestion, that he had turned it down.
'Why?' asked Paula. 'If we're not careful we'll lose Ronstadt. Then we have no way of locating their base.'
'Yes, we have. Beck is very clever. He gave me this.' He took from his pocket a small mobile phone of a type Paula had never seen before. 'I vetoed Marler's suggestion because I'm sure we need a large force when we do locate that base. All of us, in fact.'
`So how on earth do we manage that?' Paula persisted.
'I said Beck was clever. He'd heard about the bomb outrages in London and he takes as savage a view of them as I do. He has arranged for a succession of his own men – in unmarked cars – to watch the Euler. The ones on duty will carry a mobile like this one. It's specially coded and can't be intercepted. The moment Ronstadt leaves in his car they'll inform Beck, who will immediately inform me.'
'We might still miss Ronstadt,' Paula objected.
'Wait, please, until I finish. If Ronstadt takes the same route as his two thugs did earlier, he'll have to pass through the checkpoint on the Swiss side before you drive through on to Autobahn 5. Beck will instantly phone the officer in charge of the checkpoint, giving him the number of the Citroen. He will stop Ronstadt.'
'Stop him? What's the good of that?' Paula wondered.
'You really are in an argumentative mood this morning,' Tweed chided her.
'Very sorry. Please continue.'
'As I said; the officer will stop Ronstadt at the checkpoint. He will take his time searching the car, explaining that they conduct random searches for drugs. Briefly, he will delay him until we arrive. You and I, Paula, have to be in the lead car. I will be driving. As we approach the checkpoint you take out a cigarette and make a big fuss of lighting it. The checkpoint officer has a clear description of both of us – given to him by Beck.'
'This is clever of Beck,' Paula agreed. 'We'll have to stay out of sight of Ronstadt – that villain met both of us briefly at Goodfellows.'
'I think I can manage that. Marler, you'll follow in your car. Bob, you bring up the rear in your car. I wish Butler and Nield were with us. Butler could have travelled with Marler while Nield came with Bob…' He paused briefly. 'This investigation is going to take longer than I'd expected,' he said in a louder voice, sitting erect in his chair.
Paula glanced over her shoulder. Sharon Mandeville had entered the dining room. She headed straight for their table.
'I thought I could rely on you, Tweed, she said in a quiet voice. 'Yesterday we were going to have drinks.'
'I'm so very sorry, Sharon,' Tweed responded, standing up. 'I was caught up in a business meeting I couldn't get away from.'
'You're forgiven. Thank you, Bob. Or am I interrupting?'
Newman had jumped up, brought her a chair which he placed next to Tweed's. When Sharon sat down she was facing Paula.
'I feel out-gunned,' Sharon said with a smile. 'So many men.'
'I'm here,' Paula reminded her. 'I'll give you moral support.'
'That's very sweet of you.'
'You look dressed magnificently,' said Newman. 'Ready to set the world on fire.'
He was referring to the smart red trouser suit she wore. She gave him a warm smile of appreciation, then frowned before she spoke.
'Talking about setting the world on fire, somebody tried to do just that last night to the American Embassy in London. Smoke and flames were pouring out of a window, the fire brigade was called, Grosvenor Square was in chaos.'
'How do you know this?' asked Tweed.
'I called the Embassy this morning. What is happening? I don't know.'
'Which part of the Embassy was set on fire?' Tweed enquired.
'The office next to the Security room on the first floor. My office is OK, thank Heaven. I'm glad I wasn't there.' `So am I,' said Newman.
'Hi, everybody. Mind if I join the party?' a voice boomed behind Newman.
Tweed was looking up. He smiled ironically. The large figure of Ed Osborne had come into the dining room. Dragging a chair from another table, he placed it at the end, eased his bulk into it, clapped his large hands together, a grin on the outsize face above a bull neck.
'Great to see you guys again,' he said, looking at Paula and then Tweed. 'What brings you to this hick town?'
'First of all,' Newman rapped back, 'it's not a hick town. It is a more ancient and interesting city than you'll find in the whole of America.'
'Naughty.' Osborne slapped a hand against the wrist of the other hand. 'Keep your big mouth shut. Trouble is,' he went on, leaning forward, 'the mouth opens and it all hangs out. Coffee, garcon,' he demanded, addressing the waitress. 'PDQ. And since I guess you don't understand the lingo, that means pretty damned quick.'
'And for breakfast, sir?' she asked quietly.
'Just the coffee, honey. Didn't get that it was a girl at first,' he remarked as the waitress moved away. 'Her hair is trimmed so short.'
'Men don't wear skirts,' Paula snapped.
'They sure do – when they're transvest-' He broke off. 'Guess that's not a subject for breakfast.' He gazed at Paula. 'You enjoying a holiday out here?'
'We were. Until you arrived.'
'Great!' Osborne grinned broadly. 'I like a lady who answers back. You and I must get into a huddle soon as we can.'
'Don't go in for huddles,' Paula told him. 'And what are you doing in Basel anyway?'
'I get around. Why I am here?' He gave a belly laugh. 'Business, honey. Monkey business.'
Tweed pushed back his chair. Before he could stand, prior to leaving, Sharon leaned over, whispered in his ear.
'Now you won't forget we're having a drink together. Would noon in the bar behind us suit you?'
'Perfect,' Tweed whispered back.
'Hey!' Osborne boomed out. 'You two got a thing going together?'
'You'll excuse us,' Tweed said, standing up. 'We have an appointment to keep. We enjoyed your company, Mr Osborne.'
'Ed! I keep tellin' you, it's Ed…'
They were on their way out of the restaurant. Tweed had Paula by his side while Newman and Marler followed behind them. As the door to the restaurant closed behind them Paula exploded.
'What a coarse man!'
'Don't underestimate Osborne,' Tweed warned. 'Under that brash manner I suspect is a shrewd operator. Ruthless, too. I bet he could recite how all of us were dressed. His eyes were all over the place.'
'Well, he could do with a few lessons in how to dress. That loud jacket, striped shift, flashy tie, dingy corduroy slacks. It was all wrong. Like his conversation. If you can call it that.'
'Can we all have a quiet word?' Marler had caught up with them. 'Maybe over there in that far corner?' he suggested.
'Since you want to,' Tweed agreed.
They sat in a circle round a small corner table in the lobby, well away from the reception counter. Marler was about to explain when he stared. Pete Nield had appeared from the direction of the lift. He fingered his moustache as he greeted them.
'Harry and I just got here from the airport.'
'Enter the Knife Man,' Marler commented.
'And what does that mean?' demanded Tweed.
'Pete has added to his talents. During the past month or two he's been practising knife-throwing,' Marler explained, keeping his voice down. 'He's become fantastic. He invited me to go with him to a low-down pub in London. They were playing darts and Pete bought drinks all round, then asked if he could use a knife instead of darts. Everyone thought he was a lunatic but let him have a go. He stood well back from the target, threw his knife six times. Result? Six bull's-eyes. I lost a packet. I'd bet him he couldn't do it from that distance.'