This United state

'What is that woman up to? I saw her when you came through the Brasserie on your way to the bar.'

'She's trying to decide whether to leave America for ever, to settle down in England.'

Someone tapped on the door. When Marler opened it Paula walked in. Without sitting down, she stopped uncertainly.

'Is this the wrong moment for me to turn up? I can always go back to my room. I was restless. The waiting.'

'Stay,' Tweed told her. 'Sit down.' He turned to Marler. 'I was wondering why you asked about Sharon.'

'I doubt if instructions to kill you were transmitted over the phone. Which suggests to me they were given by someone inside this hotel.'

'What are you talking about?' Paula demanded. 'Instructions to kill Tweed?'

'I was going to tell you later,' Tweed said quickly. 'On our way back from seeing Beck across the road someone took a pot-shot at me. Missed by a mile.

'A short mile,' Marler corrected.

'So why query Sharon?' Tweed asked him. 'There are other people in the hotel.'

'Who, for example?'

'Ed Osborne.'

It was in the middle of the night when Jake Ronstadt called the members of his outfit to his suite. As ordered, they were all fully dressed. Unusually he stood at the head of the table.

'Who the hell gave you permission to sit down?' he snarled when they had automatically occupied their chairs. 'Get on your feet.'

'Anyone gettin' old and tired?' he sneered as they jumped up.

'Sorry, Chief. We're OK,' said Vernon.

'You'd better be – otherwise you'll find yourself with a bullet in the head, dumped in a ditch.' His voice changed, became dangerously wheedling. 'Has everyone packed, like I said? If you ain't raise your right hand.'

No hands were raised. Ronstadt stared slowly round, his hard eyes glaring at each man. They waited, not daring to move a muscle. Ronstadt spoke again, this time in a calm voice.

'We're leaving – for Freiburg first, then the Black Forest. I've told you before. But in case you've got short memories I'm goin' to repeat myself. I'll drive the lead car. Vernon comes up behind me. When we're on the autobahn, Vernon, I'll signal where you turn off – with a wave of my arm. You go up the slip road, meet the two cars waiting, transfer the weapons into your car, then drive down to rejoin me. Is that too difficult for you?'

'Piece of cake.'

'Then ram it down your throat. The bill's paid, so why are you all hangin' around here?'

'So Denise never called you after leaving?' Tweed asked.

'No. Why would she?' Marler said. `I'm the last person she'll want to see again. She must have concocted that whole yarn about the Minotaur.'

'Seems she did.

Tweed was trying to think up things to say. In his room everyone was gathered, including Keith Kent, who seemed the most placid. In the middle of the night there was an air of unspoken tension. Everyone was waiting to get on with it, knowing that nothing might happen. Paula sat in an armchair, swinging her crossed legs. She reached for her pack in her shoulder bag, then decided she didn't want a cigarette. Newman, seated on a couch, kept checking his watch. Marler was leaning against a wall. The other two who were most patient were Butler and Nield, chatting quietly to each other.

'Anyone like some more coffee?' Tweed enquired. 'Helps to keep you alert.'

No one did. Newman was thinking he could have had a nap in his room. Paula got up, went over to the windows, carefully peeked through a gap she made in the closed curtains. On the opposite bank of the Rhine a few lights gleamed in the old houses, their reflections trembling in the river. Insomniacs, she thought. They existed all over the world.

The mobile phone on the table began buzzing. Tweed forced himself not to grab. Picking it up, he was aware of six pairs of eyes watching him intently.

'Hello?'

'They're on the move. Must be close to the border.' 'Thank you.'

Beck's distinctive voice had come clearly across. Tweed put the mobile into his pocket. He spoke offhandedly, as though they were going on a day trip to a resort.

'Time to go. I suspect we have very little time left.'

In the Atlantic, well clear of the American coastline, Crag – Rear Admiral Joseph Honeywood, in command of the huge naval task force – settled into his seat in the Island of the President. It was night and he liked to be at control after dark. That was when you could get an unpleasant surprise. He looked at his Operations Officer.

'We're making good time. We should be on station in the English Channel less than four days from now.'

'No doubt about it, sir.'

'And so far, Bill, we've been lucky. We haven't been spotted by any other ship or a commercial airliner.'

'I have a feeling that will go on. The Brits will wake up to find us off their shores.'

'The SEALs are ready for action?'

'They are. If they have to land they'll sweep over anything that gets in their way. They're rarin' to go.'

32

Driving through Basel at night was an eerie experience, Paula was thinking. She liked the city, but in the dark the medieval buildings, illuminated only by street lanterns at intervals, had a majestic – and sinister – atmosphere. There were no trams running at this hour, the streets were deserted, the shadows deep and menacing.

She sat beside Newman, who was driving the first car. In the rear seats Tweed was alongside Keith Kent. Tweed was sitting up erect, his eyes everywhere. The adrenalin was flowing and he was very alert. He knew the layout of the city well and was on the lookout for anything unusual, which should not be there.

'We're getting close to the border,' he warned after a while.

'Marler's keeping up with us well, not too close, not far behind,' Newman commented after checking his rearview mirror.

Tweed glanced back through the rear window. Marler was driving the second Audi. As passengers he had Butler and Nield in the back. The seat beside him was unoccupied – for a purpose. He slowed as Newman's car lost speed, then the two cars stopped.

In the near distance was the checkpoint at the border. Paula could make out the heavy figure of Jake Ronstadt behind the wheel of a black Audi. He had his window down and appeared to be arguing with the duty officer. Another officer searched the interior of the car while three men in dark coats stood outside.

'What the hell is this all about?' Ronstadt was demanding for the third time. 'I've shown you my diplomatic passport. You have no right to stop us – let alone search the car.'

'Information received, sir,' another officer replied. 'What information might that be, buddy?'

'We are not allowed to disclose our sources. Would you mind stepping out so I can check the front?'

'I damned well would. I'm reporting this to Washington. And I'd like your name.'

'As Chief Customs Officer at this crossing point I have sole authority…'

He paused as another officer pulled at his sleeve. They walked a short distance from the car. They conversed briefly and the Chief Customs Officer was careful not to look to where Newman's car was waiting with Marler's, parked in the shadows. He returned to the Audi.

'If it was a large consignment we would have found it by now. You are free to proceed.'

Ronstadt started his engine. He lowered his window. The moment he had crossed the border he shouted back, 'You can stick your sole authority.'

He pressed his foot down, increasing speed as he drove onto the autobahn. Behind him three more black Audis followed. In his own Audi, Newman commented while he waited a little longer.

'Four cars. I counted four men in each – that's sixteen. We're outnumbered.'

'That worries you?' Tweed enquired from the back. 'Not at all. We've been outnumbered more heavily before. Time to go.'