This United state

'You'll liven up. I'm listening.'

'Pater put on his military uniform, in a manner of speaking. Told me to come with him. The idea, I'm sure, was to keep me out of mischief. And here I was, waiting for a pair of gorgeous female legs to appear, and what happens? You turn up. Again, no offence meant.'

'None taken. I had a drink with. Basil earlier. I suppose that he came along for the free ride.'

'You've got it.' Rupert snapped his fingers, grinned wolfishly. 'Literally.'

'I think I missed something there.'

'Pater's paying for all Basil's expenses, including the air ticket. The idea is I need someone to keep an eye on me. Basil was elected.'

'As a nursemaid,' Newman joked.

'Can't say I- find that tremendously funny. Comes from being one of those reporter chappies, I suppose. They all develop a rather weird sense of humour. Of course you made a mint out of that huge best-selling book you wrote, Kruger: The Computer That Failed. I've met reporters who failed – ended up behind some crummy desk sub-editing other people's stories. On a clerk's pay.'

'So what are you going to do when you get back home?'

'I rather fancy the idea of becoming manager of a mutual fund.'

Newman could hardly believe his ears. He had never heard Rupert talk like this before. He'd always thought the prospect of doing a proper job had never occurred to him. That was for the peasants.

'I'm surprised,' he said.

'Thought you might be, old boy. Oh, is the divine Paula about?'

'Yes, she is.' Newman became wary. 'She's very booked up now. Tonight she's having dinner with a party of us. Think I'd better make a move.' Newman reached for the bill the waiter had left so he could sign it. 'I'll handle this.'

'No, you won't.' Rupert's hand grabbed the bill. 'I invited you for a drink.'

Newman got up to go. He had left the table when Rupert called out to him. He swung round and Rupert was smiling sardonically.

'Bob. Give my love to Paula when you see her…'

Jack Ronstadt sat at the head of the long table in his suite at the Euler. He was in a towering rage. He spoke very quietly, which alarmed everyone sitting with him. They knew when he was quiet it was a very bad sign.

'You bombed,' he began, using the American expression for falling flat on your face. 'First, four of our guys are blown to hell by a grenade. Second, Rick Sherman, sent to torture information out of the Irina crone before he breaks her stupid neck, ends up with a knife in his throat.' He looked round at the tense faces. 'Any more contributions? What about yon, Vernon?' he asked the thin man.

'Well, Chief…' Vernon cleared his throat. 'Guess you're talkin' about the barge.'

'You're goddamn right I am.' His fist crashed down on the table. 'I put you in charge of organizing what should have been the end of Tweed and his mob. What friggin' happens?'

'It kinda didn't work out…'

'Kinda?' Ronstadt was going full throttle now. 'Don't mess with me. It was a friggin' catastrophe.'

He bunched his fist. It moved so quickly no one saw what was coming. The large fist connected with Vernon's jaw. He fell over backwards, taking his chair with him, lay sprawled on the floor. Vernon kept his eyes lowered, concealing hatred welling up inside him. He clambered to his feet, lifted up the chair, resumed his place at the table.

Ronstadt's expression was passive, as if nothing had happened. He had hit his subordinate with only half his strength. If he had really hit him Vernon's jaw would have been broken – and he needed Vernon.

'So we move on,' he continued quietly. 'First thing tomorrow Vernon and Brad are turning in all our cars. They're gettin' vehicles with snow tyres for us. There's been a big snowfall in the Black Forest. My idea is we leave tomorrow night. I do mean in the middle of the night. We collect a big cargo waitin' at the base. It has to reach Britain very fast.' He smiled for the first time. 'Any questions?'

There was silence. No one felt like opening their mouths after witnessing the punishment meted out to Vernon-Ronstadt sighed. He started shuffling the pack of cards he'd picked up.

'Some smart guy might have asked, "What about weapons?" '

'What about weapons?' Vernon asked obediently.

'Vernon, you'se comin' on.' Ronstadt reached out a hand, grasped Vernon's shoulder, squeezed it in a friendly way. 'You'll make it yet. Tomorrow mornin' all weapons and explosives left are to be dumped in the Rhine. That officer at the checkpoint close to the autobahn is a nosy bastard. When we're on the way, across the border, a car from base will meet us with more weapons. Don't no one go to bed tonight. I may call another meeting middle of the night. After I've contacted Charlie, got the OK…'

Paula was ready early for the dinner. In her room she began thinking about Denise Chatel. It struck her Denise was lonely. She might be upset if she saw the dinner party to which she had not been invited. She picked up the phone, spoke to the operator.

'Could you put me through to Denise Cheers room, please.'

'Sorry. I can't do that. Ms Chatel has checked out.' 'Checked out? What do you mean?'

'She asked me to have her car brought to the entrance about three-quarters of an hour ago. Then she checked out. Left the hotel.'

'Did she leave any forwarding address?'

'No, she didn't.'

'Thank you.'

Paula hurried along to Tweed's room. He opened the door and she waited until she had sat down. She was feeling stunned. Normally she was quick when it came to working out relationships between people. Now her mind was circling round at speed like a whirlpool.

'I've just heard that Denise Chatel has checked out of here,' she announced.

'When?' Tweed rapped out.

'Over three-quarters of an hour ago. Had her car brought to the entrance, then she was off.'

'Any idea where to?'

'None at all. She didn't leave a forwarding address. Tweed, I just don't know what's going on any more.' 'Have some more coffee…'

'No! I don't want any more coffee. I'm up to here with it. And I think you're drinking too much of the stuff. Caffeine sets your nerves on edge.'

Tweed sat down in a chair opposite her. As he poured himself another cup he glanced across at her, then concentrated on what he was doing. Sitting back, he sipped at his cup.

'I'm sorry,' said Paula. 'That outburst was very rude. Don't know what's got into me.'

'Too much coffee,' Tweed said with a smile. He put down his cup. 'Newman and Marler will be arriving in a minute. I want a word with them before our dinner. And I want to tell them while you're here. It's important you're fully in the picture. I'm not surprised you felt confused. So did I – until I realized certain people are feeding me. with smokescreens. Verbal camouflage is a better description. They're trying to conceal from me who is who – and what is really about to happen.'

'I feel better. I thought it was me.'

She had just finished speaking when Newman and Marler came in. Paula decided to speak up first when she saw Marler. He stood against a wall, lit a king-size.

'Marler,' she said, 'Denise checked out of the hotel less than an hour ago. Drove off by herself…'

'What?'

It was rare to be able to gauge his reactions from his expression. Now he looked staggered, mystified.

'She didn't leave a forwarding address. So we have no idea where she's gone, why she left so suddenly, anything.'

'And she didn't say a word to me. Don't understand it.'

'There may be quite a simple explanation,' Tweed interjected. He looked at Marler. 'Paula, Bob and I are having dinner with Sharon downstairs this evening. I'd like everyone to leave this to me,' he warned. 'At a suitable moment I'll bring up the news about Denise. Incidentally, I shall be playing a power game, so don't be surprised when I say something odd to our hostess. My objective now is to disturb the enemy. I think I can use Sharon without her realizing it.'