This United state

'Looks as though he could be leaving,' Paula whispered. 'Oh, Lord, I think he's coming over to us.'

Before he started moving towards their table Sharon had glanced up, then immediately looked down at her file. Osborne, also, had seen his arrival. He gave the newcomer one bleak stare, then resumed reading his newspaper.

'Hi, folks,' Ronstadt greeted them. 'What a big surprise. You're a long way from Goodfellows back in London,' he said addressing Paula. He held out his large hand and she felt compelled to shake it. 'Say, you've got quite a grip there.'

'It comes in useful on occasion,' she replied, staring straight into his hard eyes.

'I guess it does.' He chuckled, a deep rumble which seemed to originate deep down in his chest. 'Fending off unwanted admirers. I guess there must be quite a few of 'em.' He turned his attention to Tweed. 'You sure get around.'

'So do you,' Tweed replied bluntly. 'Where exactly have you come from to get here?'

'I was in Basel. Nice peaceful city. Nothin' ever happens there.' He paused, as though expecting a reaction. 'Now I'm tourin' Germany. Kinda restin' up. Got a big job in London when I get back there.'

'What kind of a job is that?' Newman rapped out.

'Settlin' in new staff. We're enlarging the Embassy. London is becomin' the key city in the Western world.'

'London could do without the bombs,' Paula said, lifting her voice. 'And the hideous casualties caused by mindless terrorists.'

Out of the corner of her eye she saw both Sharon and Osborne look up, startled by her vehemence.

'You're sure right there,' Ronstadt agreed equably. 'Think I've disturbed you folks enough. Have a nice day.'

He walked off to an isolated table. On the way he called out in a rough manner.

'Waiter! Over here! I'm hungry.'

'Aggressive, callous bastard,' Paula hissed quietly, her hand gripping the napkin in her lap to regain self- control.

'Oh, he was deliberately being provocative,' Tweed said calmly. 'I liked your reference to bombs and terrorists, Paula. He didn't linger after that. I don't think he was very happy about the whole restaurant hearing you.'

'Did he hurt your hand when he shook it?' Newman enquired. 'I saw he exerted all his strength.'

'No, he didn't My grip is as strong as his. My aerobics. And I wanted to test his strength. I might come up against him later on my own.'

'Don't,' Newman warned, keeping his voice down. 'He's probably packing a gun at this moment.'

'And I'm packing my Browning,' Paula retorted. 'It does look as though he's leaving after breakfast, doesn't it?'

'No,' said Tweed.

'What makes you say that?' she demanded.

'The fact that he was putting on a demonstration for our benefit.'

'What kind of a demonstration?'

'Rather an obvious ploy. To give us the impression that he is leaving shortly. Hence his clothes, his overcoat and baseball cap. If he was on his way he'd attempt to conceal it. I think he's had enough of us. And something Marler phoned me about will, I'm sure, have upset Mr Jake Ronstadt. Thrown him off balance. Tell you later.'

'So we're here a bit longer?'

'At least for the rest of the day would be my guess: I see Sharon is leaving. She's gone now.' He drank more coffee. A short while later he stared. 'Well, look who's arrived.' -

Paula and Newman stared across the dining room. Standing in the entrance, looking round the room, dressed in a dove-grey two-piece suit, was Denise Chatel. She was clutching a large handbag. After swiftly checking out who was having breakfast she vanished.

35

Newman was getting up from the table when Tweed glanced across at Ronstadt. It seemed obvious he hadn't seen Denise. Crouched over a mobile phone, he had his head down, concentrating on his conversation.

'I'm going after her,' said Newman.

'Good idea,' said Tweed.

He doubted whether Newman had heard him. Without appearing to hurry, he was moving at speed out of the restaurant. He found no trace of Sharon outside. She must have gone straight up to her room. He saw Denise at the garderobe, collecting her coat. He went over in time to help her on with it. She nearly jumped out of her skin until she saw who it was. She moved towards the exit and Newman walked alongside her.

'Someone in the restaurant you didn't like the look of?' he asked cheerfully.

'Yes.'

'Ronstadt? Osborne?'

'I don't want to talk about it.'

'But you do want breakfast. We can find a cafe outside. Plenty of them in Freiburg.'

'I'm ravenous, Bob.'

They were already outside in the street. She was becoming more confident about him, he sensed. They turned left and, walking fast, she almost slipped on a stretch of ice. He grasped hold of her, saved her from falling.

'Loop you arm through mine,' he said firmly.

She did so. She was trembling, and not with the cold. She was wearing a thick overcoat with a high collar. He smiled at her as they continued walking.

'People will start talking if they see us like this.' 'That's not funny.'

'Just a joke.'

'Bob.' She looked at him. 'You haven't got a coat and it's freezing. Should we go back so you can get one?' she suggested without any enthusiasm.

'The cold doesn't worry me. It's the great heat – with humidity – which I find trying.'

He was telling the truth. In this respect he was like Tweed, who also could stand any amount of cold, but he had to push himself hard in hot, humid weather. They arrived outside a large cafe-cum-restaurant. Denise tugged at his arm.

'Let's check out this place. I want to get you inside into some warmth.'

It was an old place, with huge dark wooden beams across the ceiling. There were several couples inside, dressed like locals. Denise nodded, guided him inside, made for a remote table near the back. He helped her off with her coat and felt the warmth on his face and bare hands. They sat facing each other.

'When did you last eat?' he asked, picking up the menu.

'I had a snack yesterday afternoon in my room at the Three Kings.'

'Nothing since? I see. How about a whopping great omelette?'

'Sounds wonderful. Mushroom, if they've got it. Otherwise plain would do fine. And a lot of coffee, with milk.'

The waitress, with a checked blouse and a dark skirt, appeared. He ordered a large omelette for Denise, a small one for himself. He had already had breakfast but he thought it would make her feel more comfortable if he ate with her. He didn't look at her. Instead he looked round the restaurant.

'Is Alec with you?' she asked suddenly.

'Alec?'

'Marler.'

'Of course. I was dreaming. He's in the city, but he's some way off. I'm afraid you'll have to put up with me.'

'I'm sorry, Bob. I didn't mean it like that. I feel perfectly comfortable with you.'

'Thank you. Good…'

He said no more until they were served. Then he waited until she had eaten every scrap of her huge omelette, plus quite a lot of bread, drinking her milky coffee between bites. Her face had been ashen, but now her high colour had returned. She leant back in her chair, laid a hand on her tummy.

'Not very elegant, but I do feel better.'

'You drove here from Basel?'

'Yes, I did. It was very tiring. When I appeared in the restaurant I registered, had my bag taken up to a room, was given my key.'

She produced it from her handbag. Holding it, she let him read the number, then dropped it back into her handbag. He asked her if she'd mind if he smoked one cigarette.

'Not if you give me one too. Thank you. Did Alec tell you what I'd told him? About my parents in the States?' 'Yes, he did.'

'You probably wonder what I've been doing. First I disappear, then I reappear.'

'Tell me only if you want to.'