This United state

'We're nearly at junction 54,' she said. 'And before you slap me down may I remind you I am the navigator?'

'Best in the world, I'd say.'

'Flattery will get you nowhere!'

Tweed had reduced his speed a lot. Turning off the autobahn at the junction he proceeded at a more sedate pace. Paula checked her map again.

'Soon we'll cross a bridge over the Rhine. After that we're in Strasbourg in no time.'

'Look for the spire of the cathedral,' Tweed suggested. 'It is immensely high. From the top on a clear day you can see the Vosges Mountains and the Black Forest, and they're a long way off.'

'What's Strasbourg like?'

'The centre, crowded round the cathedral, is a labyrinth of streets and alleyways. The buildings are as old as the hills. They're crammed together and their rooftops are all different heights, a lot of them lopsided and odd-looking. The best part is where we're going – Petite France.'

'And what do you expect when we reach the Mel Regent?'

'Something unpleasant, but we're getting used to that.'

42

Paula almost purred with delight as Tweed, deep inside Strasbourg, drove across an old bridge lined with elegant iron railings and she saw the Hotel Regent. A large old four-square building, it was illuminated with tinted floodlights. She stared down beyond the railings at its reflection in the water under the bridge.

'We seem to have crossed a lot of bridges to get here.'

'The waterways are an essential part of Strasbourg,' Tweed explained. 'It's a very complex system and eventually you can sail in boats which take you on to the Rhine. Pleasure boats operate a lot in the season. I'm just hoping the hotel has rooms for all of us. The European so-called Parliament is here and when in session European MPs with fat expenses grab all the best accommodation.'

Paula glowed as they walked into a very modern and palatial reception area. The floor was paved with light green marble and the sides of the reception counter were also faced with marble. Round white pillars supported a high ceiling where the illumination was provided by recessed spotlights.

'We'd like rooms for seven people if that's possible,' Tweed said to the woman behind the curved counter. She was attractive, very fashionably dressed and had an air of authority. 'We have driven a long way,' Tweed added.

'No problem,' the woman said with a welcoming smile. 'We can give you all very nice rooms. If you could register, sir.'

Tweed dealt with the formalities, then looked at the woman as he returned her smile.

'If the porters could take our coats, some of us would like to go straight to the bar.'

'Certainly. Let me show you the way.'

Paula and Tweed were followed by Newman and Kent. Tweed heard Marler say the rest of them would like to go straight up to their rooms. Like the reception hall, the bar was modern but tasteful. In the manner of certain high-class cocktail bars it had comfortable armchairs upholstered in purple.

Tweed smiled to himself as they walked into the bar. By herself, seated in one of a series of banquettes facing each other, was Sharon Mandeville.

Marler was on his way upstairs to his room when a woman rounded a corner and started to descend. Denise Chatel. She looked harassed and had a briefcase tucked under her arm. She stopped dead when she saw him.

'Hello, Denise,' he greeted her. 'You'll think I'm following you.'

'Are you?' she snapped.

Then she hurried past him down the stairs. Her expression was bleak and completely lacking in warmth. Marler shrugged.

'I think,' Nield whispered, 'she's gone off you…'

In the bar Tweed walked straight over to Sharon. She looked up and gave him a smile of extreme pleasure. Putting down her file, she stood up so he could hug her.

'Just when I was getting so bored with all this work you walk in, so now I can look forward to a really entertaining evening.'

'Rather a late evening,' he said sitting down facing her.

'Oh, the night is young. Who knows? We may be here at dawn.'

'This is Keith Kent,' Tweed introduced. 'Keith, Sharon Mandeville.'

'How nice to meet such a competent-looking man for a change. I am wondering what you do for a living.'

'I'm a banker.'

'A money man. Well, they say money makes the world go round.'

'Except,' Tweed said, 'at times the lust for money, when satisfied, is sometimes succeeded by the lust for power.'

'Tweed, you are a cynic.' She laughed. 'A dyed-in-the-wool cynic.'

'Or maybe a realist.'

'Paula.' Sharon focused her attention on her. 'I'm so glad you're here. Otherwise I'd feel out-gunned. Why don't we go shopping together? There are some marvellous shops here if you know where to go.'

'I doubt if my bank balance would come up to yours,' Paula said with a smile.

'Nonsense. It would be a change to have some female company. I'm drinking champagne. I'll order another bottle.'

'Not for me,' Tweed said hastily.

'There's Paula and Keith. May I call you Keith? Good. And now, Bob, I noticed you were hobbling. You've been in the wars?'

'Slipped on a flight of stone steps in Freiburg. It's nothing.'.

Sharon waved to a waiter. She ordered two more bottles of Dom Perignon. Then she leaned towards Tweed, speaking quietly.

'Talking about company, have you seen who is at the bar?'

Tweed turned round. At the bar, which had a pale yellow front, two men were perched on bar stools, their backs to the room. Rupert and Basil Windermere. He looked back at Sharon.

'What are they doing here?'

'Lord knows. They're a nuisance. Both of them, separately, have pestered me. I gave them a very cold shoulder. I can't imagine why they turned up here – unless they followed me on the autobahn. But why would they do that?'

'Your guess is as good as mine.'

'Then, to cap it all, you haven't noticed who is at a corner table by himself over there. That boor, Ed Osborne.'

Tweed again twisted round on his banquette. At that moment Ed Osborne looked up, caught his eye, stood up and lumbered over to their table between the facing banquettes. He slapped Tweed on the back, grinning, slurring his speech.

'Hi, feller! Great to see you again. You folks mind if I join you? Guess it's OK.'

As he sat down next to Tweed he looked across at Sharon and winked. She ignored him and started chatting with Newman. Osborne had a glass of Scotch in his right hand. Waves of the drink were drifting into Tweed's nostrils.

'What brings you all, as I believe they say in our Deep South, to this part of the world?'

'What brings you here?' Sharon asked sharply, her expression cold.

'Good question. Very good question,' Osborne mumbled. 'Guess I can give you a good answer. Had a hard time in Washington, then in London. So I'm takin' a few days off. Kinda holiday – just roamin' around, roamin' where the spirit takes me.'

'Then I hope you're enjoying yourself,' Sharon replied, her manner still cold.

'What gets me,' Osborne went on, 'is how we all keeps turnin' up in the same places. First there was Basel, then Freiburg and now, believe it or not, Strasbourg. I reckon it's a case of who is following who?'

There was a silence. Sharon busied herself pouring champagne into glasses. Paula shook her head, thanked her. Kent leaned forward, his voice crisp.

'Maybe if we started with leaving London we'd know what is going on. Would you agree, Sharon?'

'Sorry, Keith, but you've fogged me.'

'Well, take myself. I travelled to Basel to check a bank account. Then I moved on to Freiburg because a man called Jake Ronstadt was going there.'

'A horrible man,' Sharon exclaimed. 'No manners at all.'