The Power (33 page)

'Oh, hell. I was always telling her to be more careful.

Which is why - if I hadn't a client - I used to open my door a
crack when one of the stairs creaked.
Not to be nosy,
believe me. Just to try and look after her. I hope it wasn't a
pervert. Did she suffer?'

'I'd say it was pretty quick. He slashed her throat open.
It's not a nice sight. Did you by any chance see her four thirty appointment arrive this afternoon?'

'Yes, I did.'

'But there's no light on the staircase. In daytime the fanlight at the top gives enough illumination to see your
way, but now
...

'There's a time switch, lasts one minute. If you know
where to find it you can switch it on from just inside the
front door. Then Helen and I have switches inside our
apartments we can operate. When he came upstairs she'd obviously operated her time switch.'

'So you can describe him?'

'Well, yes and no. I only open my door a crack so her
client won't spot me. I'd say he was taller than you are. His
feet seemed to hurt him a bit the way he was walking slowly
and carefully.'

'Slim?'

'No. Pretty fat, I'd say. His black overcoat was tight
across his waist and the buttons looked as though they
could fly off at any moment.'

'Colour of hair?.'

'No idea. He also wore a black broad-brimmed hat
pulled well down. Couldn't see his hair.'

'Describe his face.'

That's difficult too. He had a pair of those wrapround
tinted glasses which covered a lot of his face. And a white silk scarf which covered more of it. I do know his feet hurt
him.'

'What about his age?' Newman pressed. 'Thirty, forty,
older?'

'I honestly couldn't tell. I judge a man's age by the way
he moves - but coming up unfamiliar stairs with tender
feet throws any body language.'

'Would you recognize him again if you saw him?'

'Only if he was dressed exactly as he was when he
came up those stairs.'

'Then you'd really just be identifying the clothes,'
Newman pointed out.

'I suppose you're right.'

'Sitting here, did you see him leave, get a better
view?'

'No, I didn't. But just before you came in I was chatting with a girl friend. I didn't even see the three of you
go back inside.'

'You're English, aren't you?' Newman suddenly shot
at her.

'Yes, I am,' Klara said after a pause. 'So was Helen -
her real name is - was - Helen Dane from Cornwall. We teamed up to come out here, hoping we'd have a novelty value for Swiss men. And we do. But they prefer you to
have a common Swiss name. Don't ask me why. And
don't ask my real name.'

'What's your Swiss surname, then? Klara who?'

'I'm not telling you that either. I'm clearing out of my
apartment within the hour. Do the police know about Helen yet?' Klara asked.

'No, they don't. I'd just as soon you didn't mention
our visits.'

'You can count on that,' she assured him. 'First, I
simply couldn't stay in a building where poor Helen was
murdered. Second, what clients are going to come back to me here? Rennweg 590 will become notorious once the press get hold of the story. That girl friend I was
chatting to is about to vacate her apartment to take up a job in Geneva. I'm also not giving you the address.'

'Fair enough.'

Klara looked at Paula. 'Would you do me a great
favour? Come back with me to my apartment while I pack?
Please.'

Paula looked at Tweed. He checked his watch. His six
o'clock appointment with Jennie Blade at the
Hummer
Bar was coming up soon. Klara sensed his problem - time.
She gazed at Paula.

'I'm the world's quickest packer. One suitcase and in five
minutes we'll be in the street again.'

Tweed, reluctantly, nodded agreement to Paula. Newman warned Klara as she stood up, door key in her hand:
'When you're going to this new address I'd take a taxi. You
know Zurich well? Good. Think of two fake destinations.
Then get a third taxi to take you where you're going.'

'Good idea. Thanks .. .'

Tweed checked his watch again as the two women left
the caf
é
. He doubted Klara's statement that she could pack
in five minutes. Paula could but how many other women
achieved that speed?

'Her description of Voser was pretty distinctive,' New
man commented. 'A tall fat man with tender feet.'

'I found two aspects of her description intriguing,'
Tweed remarked.

'Which two aspects?'

'I want to chew them over in my mind,' Tweed told him
cryptically.'I did notice Klara is very tall.'

Newman gave up trying to penetrate the subtle recesses
of Tweed's mind. He sat watching the closed door
opposite.

Tweed had time to call Monica after he arrived back at the
Gotthard. Klara had been as good as her word - she had
packed the suitcase and emerged back on Rennweg with Paula in five minutes. Newman saw her safely into a taxi
before they hurried back to the Gotthard
...
'Monica, Tweed here. Are you alone? I do not want to
get in touch with Howard now. I'm speaking from my hotel.'

'All's quiet down here in Surrey ...' Monica was word
ing what she said carefully. Anyone could be listening in. 'I
have the details of the Gaunt concern. The top man is a
millionaire. He likes to spread it round that he has no idea
where the next penny is coming from. He owns the manor -
no mortgage - a property in Rock with no name and has
considerable assets in Switzerland. No details about them,
of course. He was once a captain in the SAS. Had to resign
-
too independent-minded. A bit of an adventurer, like the old buccaneers. Popular with women. Has had a lot of girl
friends. That's it.'

'Thank you. Now, two women have applied to me for
jobs. I need to have detailed references. Ready to take
down their names? Good. Jennie Blade. And Eve Amberg
-
maiden name Royston. I'll spell that last name. Got it? I
suggest concentration on the Padstow area. I must go now.
I'll call you in the near future. Take care ...'

Paula was intrigued as Tweed put down the phone.
Waiting while he loosened his collar, she asked her question.

'Why especially do you want to know about those two
women?'

'Both of them have connections with Cornwall/Which is
where it all started.'

21

Walking briskly into the Oval Office Sara Maranoff knew
the moment she saw the President that he was expecting a
visit from his latest girl friend, Ms Hamilton. Bradford.
March was freshly shaven, wore a smart grey suit, had a
bottle of champagne in the ice bucket.

'Senator Wingfield has asked to come and see you.'

That friggin' wooden Indian? Stall the bastard Tell him
I'm up to my neck in paperwork for a new bill. Oh, I didn't tell you, Ms Hamilton is calling on me in half an hour. See
I'm not disturbed while we talk.'

'Sure, boss.' Sara's expression suggested it was news to
her. And she liked the word 'talk'. He wouldn't waste time
talking to her. 'Norton is on the line,' she went on. 'Sounds
to be in a hurry.'

'Does he? I'm in a hurry - for him to finish the jobs he
was sent out to do. Put him on the line

'Norton here. We're closing in on Tweed. Nearly got
him today ...'

'Nearly!
You mean the pest is hospitalized?'

'Not exactly. I've thought up a new angle to fix him for
all time. Thought you'd like a bulletin
...'

'Oh, you're issuing bulletins now, are you?' Livid, March
leaned across the desk, shouting down the phone. 'For
bulletin I read bullshit. The only bulletin I want from you is
that Tweed, Dyson, Ives and Dillon are all gone to join the
fathers they never had. How is Mencken working out?'

'He takes orders .. .'

'More calls like this and
you
will be taking orders from
him . .
.'

He crashed down the phone and Sara shuddered
inwardly. If Brad went on like that he was going to shatter
the instrument. It would be expensive replacing that
special private phone. Sara was money-conscious; She
tried another tack.

'I just heard you've recalled Ambassador Anderson
from Switzerland. That you're sending out Mike Gallagher
in his place.'

'I congratulate you on your source of information,'
March said sarcastically.

'Anderson is an experienced diplomat. Gallagher is
raw, a rough diamond. He could cause trouble, the language he uses.'

'Gallagher is a man I trust. Anderson has been inter
fering with things that don't goddamn concern him. He
is out.
Out!'

'Gallagher hasn't left the States yet. You could change
your mind. I would if I were you .. .'

'But you're
not
me!' March roared at her. 'When
you're sitting in this chair you can decide who goes
where. And Gallagher contributed plenty to my election campaign.'

She sighed. Normally she could handle Brad, but
there were times when he acted like a maddened bull. This was one of them. Time to change his mood. A
reference to Ms Hamilton, bringing her back into his
thoughts, should do the trick.

'Another bottle of champagne - to oil the works?' she
suggested.

March glared at her and Sara realized her tactic had
misfired. He pointed a short stubby finger across the
room.

'The door is there. Walk. Preferably through it with
out opening it.. .'

'Thank you, Sara,' said Senator Wingfield. 'Don't worry
about it. I know you tried.'

He put down the phone in the room at his Chevy
Chase residence where the Three Wise Men were gath
ered. The banker and the elder statesman, nursing their
drinks at the round table, watched the Senator as he
joined them. Wingfield shook his head regretfully.