Part 4 (1/2)

'I suppose you're right,' Tweed agreed when Buchanan made his offer. 'Monica is staying on, checking the names I gave her. And Roy can tell me what happened outside - plus I have a few things to tell him.'

'What about Paula?' Newman asked as they went back down the stairs with Buchanan.

'She's staying on too...'

This had been Marler's suggestion.

'The Ear will be more comfortable if I have Paula with me in the waiting room,' he explained to Tweed.

'He relaxes more in women's company - that is, the few he can trust.'

'He may not trust me,' Paula pointed out.

'He will. His ability to weigh up people is remarkable. He has an uncanny knowledge of human nature. But only if you feel up to it.'

'I can't wait to meet the Ear,' she replied.

3.

When Newman had left the building with Tweed and Buchanan, Marler set the stage for the arrival of the Ear. He raided the drinks cupboard of Howard, the Director. Holding three gla.s.ses and a bottle of white wine he took them downstairs and laid them on the bare wooden table in the waiting room. He then upset George.

'I'll guard the front door. You go upstairs and make yourself at home in one of the offices. Not Tweed's.'

'I'm supposed to be the guard,' the red-faced ex-army sergeant protested.

'I know. We have someone coming who won't want to be recognized.'

'Have it your own way.'

'I'm going to ....'

With Paula seated at one of the three chairs round the table, Marler waited behind George's desk, listening for the sound of a taxi pulling up. Instead, after half an hour someone rang the bell. Peering through the spy-hole in the heavy front door Marler stared in surprise, then opened it. He ushered the Ear into the waiting room, closed the door.

'This is Paula. I hope you don't mind her being with us.'

Paula looked at their visitor. She hadn't expected such a small man. No more than five feet tall, he had shuffled in and now he gazed at her through thick pebble gla.s.ses, perched on the bridge of a hooked nose. He took off the gla.s.ses, glanced at Marler before reverting his gaze to Paula.

'Disguise,' he explained. 'Nice name, Paula,' he went on, still staring at her in a way she did not find offensive.

Without the gla.s.ses he became a different person. His nose seemed even more hooked, his thin mouth was firm, his jaw pointed. Penetrating blue eyes surveyed her. His cheekbones were prominent and his thick dark eyebrows curled upwards. He reminded her of a d.i.c.kensian character.

'I shall be very happy for the lady to be present,' he decided. 'I like your clothes,' he told Paula. 'Smart but not a mantrap.'

'He does speak his mind, Marler said quickly.

'I think he has a wonderful sense of humour.' Paula laughed. 'His description of me is perfect.'

'And very practical shoes. For moving silently or running.'

He doesn't miss a thing, thought Paula, who had her legs crossed, exposing the rubber sole of one shoe. The explanation he had given was precisely the reason she wore them. Marler pulled out a chair for their visitor to sit down. He extended a hand to Paula. His grip was firm.

'I am Kurt Schwarz.'

'I don't think Kurt will mind my telling you his base is in Switzerland. In Basel.'

Marler sat down in a chair facing them. The Ear put down on the floor an old trilby hat he had been carrying. He wore a shabby windcheater with patches on the sleeves and a pair of denims which had seen better days.

Below the sharp nose his Adam's apple was also prominent, heightening the d.i.c.kensian impression. He picked up the bottle of wine, glanced at it, put the bottle down.

'Not bad, could be better,' he told Marler.

'You don't have to drink it.'

'That would be impolite. And I wish to toast the health of this charming lady.'

'Flattery will get you somewhere. How did you find those old clothes? You look like a tramp.'

'I saw a junk shop still open on the way from the airport. I told the cab driver to drop me there. They had a selection of second-hand clothes. There was a public lavatory nearby. I went into it after leaving the shop and changed in a cubicle.'

'Kurt,' commented Paula, 'your English is very good.' 'I once spent two years in Hammersmith. Is it still there?'

'Unfortunately, yes.'

'Well, Hammersmith is like Hampstead compared to half of Paris. Tourists don't see the slums I know so well.' He watched Marler struggling with a gadget to extract the cork from the wine bottle. 'I could get that cork out now with my teeth. Maybe yours are false.'

'That's enough of that.'

Marler poured the wine. The Ear raised his gla.s.s. 'To Paula, a long and happy life.'

'Thank you,' she said as they clinked gla.s.ses.

'What did you do with the clothes you came across in?' Marler asked.

'Put them inside the canvas hold-all by the side of my chair.' He reached down, pulled out a black beret, fitted it on to his thick grey hair. He still reminded Paula of a d.i.c.kensian character. Even his voice fitted - it was hoa.r.s.e but warm. 'Now, shall we be serious?'

'That's why you're here,' Marler replied.

'The Americans have transmitted electronically one hundred million dollars to an account at the Zurcher Kredit Bank on Bankverein.'

'That's in Basel?'

'Yes.'

'You're sure of your information?'