This United state

Marler was looking up, staring at the tops of the buildings they passed as they reached the other side. They were close now to the main entrance to the hotel. Tweed was deep in thought, his feet moving mechanically, his mind on what Buchanan had told him. He arrived at the revolving door. Suddenly Marler grabbed hold of him, shoved him forcefully into a compartment of the door which caused him to slam into it and be pushed inside. At the same moment a bullet hit the stone floor where he had been standing a millisecond before. The bullet ricocheted into space.

Glancing up at the building opposite, Marler followed him into the lobby. Tweed was waiting for him. He spoke calmly.

'What was that?'

'A bullet with your name on it.' Marler kept his voice down as the receptionist was coming towards them from behind the counter. 'I'd go after him but he's like a cat burglar. I'd say he's long gone already.'

'The Phantom?'

'No, doubt about it.'

'Don't mention it to the others.'

The receptionist reached them. She was holding an addressed package. She was holding it out towards Tweed when Marler took it.

'This arrived by courier for Mr Tweed. He said the plane was late. Something about ice on the runway.' 'Thank you,' said Tweed.

'I'll take this to my room, check it carefully before I open it,' Marler said when they were inside the lift.

'Come straight to my room as soon as you can. I'll have everyone else there when you arrive. I want to ask some questions first. You're ready to leave at the drop of a hat?'

'Before the hat hits the floor.'

Tweed gave Paula some instructions when she arrived in his room first. As he was speaking she listened, then stared in disbelief.

'I want you to do the same thing with the Hotel Colombi in Freiburg that you did with the Schwarzwalder Hof. Book rooms at the Colombi for all of us. Give them my credit card number and tell them we'll pay for any unoccupied rooms. Not sure when we'll get there.'

'What on earth for?' she wanted to know. 'Sharon is staying there.'

'I know. That's not the reason. This way we have two different bases in Freiburg. We may find it useful to flit from one to the other.'

'I'll call now…'

Tweed waited until everyone was settled in the room. When Paula completed her call, he used the phone to contact Keith Kent.

'Keith, like you to be here in my room to hear what's going on.'

'First of all,' he said, seated on a hard-backed chair, 'Paula, I would be interested in your impression of Sharon. You did sit facing her during our leisurely dinner.'

'She's enigmatic.'

'That doesn't tell me anything. Be more specific.'

'She's very experienced in the company of a lot of people, I'd say. But she doesn't hold the stage. I can't quite penetrate what's under that deep calm. On the other hand she can be very buoyant and great fun. I think she's tugged this way and that as to whether to stay in America or move to Britain for good. I sense she's leaning towards the latter. Sensibly, she's moving to different locations to get a perspective on her life.'

'What do you think, Bob?'

'I don't believe one word she says.'

There was a hush. Paula looked quite taken aback at his reaction. So much so, she began smoking one of her rare cigarettes.

'What do you base that on, Bob?' Tweed asked. 'I was joking. I think she's great.'

'What is it about her that makes her so attractive to men?' Tweed enquired.

'I can tell you that,' Paula replied. 'Personality. She's a mix of the cool and the exciting. This intrigues men. They're not sure where they are with her. Outcome? They want to know her better.'

'That's pretty shrewd,' Newman agreed.

'I've got grim news for you,' Tweed said suddenly. 'It came to Marler and me via Beck and Roy Buchanan…'

He told them about the horror which had taken place in London. They listened in complete silence. Butler bunched a fist as though he wanted one of the opposition present to slam it into. Nield closed his eyes, then opened them, his expression one of fury.

'We've got to bust these bastards,' Butler exclaimed. 'I agree with you one hundred per cent,' Tweed assured him. 'I want you all now to watch a tape of Roy Buchanan broadcasting on TV this afternoon. Marler, could you oblige?'

'Right now,' Marler said.

He inserted it into the video recorder. Picking up the remote control, he backed away, perched on the arm of Paula's chair. The red light was already glowing on the set. He pressed the button and a BBC news bulletin was showing. Scenes of carnage far worse than those seen earlier of the bombed store in Oxford Street were preceded by an unusual warning from the newsreader.

'Before we show the following pictures we would advise anyone who is squeamish not to watch. We especially suggest children should not see what follows.'

Paula gasped, wanted to close her eyes. She forced herself to go on viewing. They reminded her of scenes of the war in Vietnam. The pictures were a tangle of horribly injured victims, of stretcher after stretcher being brought out with the bodies on them showing no signs of life. Chaos and blood were everywhere. A woman staggered out of the ruined entrance. A paramedic appeared, took hold of her gently, removed her from camera range.

The scenes of carnage gave way to the reappearance of the newsreader, his voice solemn.

'There will now be a short broadcast by Superintendent Buchanan of the Metropolitan Police.'

Roy Buchanan's image appeared, a view of head and shoulders. He stared straight at the camera, his expression grim, his voice calm and determined.

'Ladies and gentlemen, the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police has just appointed me as Head of the Anti-Terrorist Squad. I have also been given full powers to call on the help of any other unit I may deem to be necessary. We know that the atrocity you have just seen – together with the bombing of two other department stores in the capital – is not the work of the IRA. Nor is it the work of any ultra-extremist Muslim sect. I shall be working day and night to hunt down these vile murderers. I have given orders that when they are encountered by my men, if they open fire, we shall shoot to kill. Lot there be no doubt about that. Thank you for giving me your attention.'

'That was pretty tough,' Newman said as Marler switched off the TV. 'Thank God. He really means it.'

'So do I,' Tweed said very quietly. 'We will exterminate these vermin.'

Marler remained behind when the others had left, after a warning from Tweed that no one should contemplate going to bed. That they must be ready to leave at a moment's notice.

'After we got back from Beck's place,' Marler said, 'and you missed death by inches, I went up to my room. I immediately phoned Windermere's room. There was no reply. I then phoned Rupert's room. Again there was no reply. So both were out.'

'You think one of them is the Phantom?'

'Don't you?'

'It could be a third person who hasn't yet appeared on the scene,' Tweed mused.

'The Phantom is a crack shot, although twice he's just missed. Once with Paula at Irongates in Kent, the second time with you tonight.'

'You don't think they could have been deliberate misses, to unnerve me? And why has it to be a man. These days there are some women who are as expert shots as men,' Tweed speculated.

'I'll get him – or her – in my sights sooner or later. I still have my Armalite.'

'By the way,' Tweed said, 'when we drive to Freiburg, which I'm convinced 'Mill be the case, we'll be staying at the Colombi to begin with. I remember it – a first-class hotel not far from the railway station and fairly close to the outskirts. We have the Schwarzwalder Hof as an alternative base. It's deep inside the old city. We may even dodge backwards and forwards. And don't be surprised if, when we do arrive at the Colombi, we see Sharon. She told me at dinner she's going there.'