Part 10 (2/2)

'You shouldn't talk to the barman the way you do, Rupert,' Basil told him. 'He doesn't like it.'

'Who gives a frig for a barman?'

'Not the lord of the manor, the king of creation, G.o.d's gift to the casinos in Europe.'

'How would you like this drink poured over your crummy suit?' Rupert snarled.

'Time to go, find fresh fields,' Newman said firmly, gripping Basil's arm.

'I think you're right,' Basil agreed. He glanced at Rupert. 'You don't get the best type of person in here.'

Rupert was lifting his gla.s.s when Newman hauled Basil off the stool. Just in time. Rupert's double Scotch flooded the stool Basil had just vacated. Newman hustled Basil away from the bar, between tables and out of the entrance. The cold air hit Basil, who stumbled, swayed.

'Time to go home,' Newman insisted. 'We can have another drink there ...'

An hour and a half later Tweed paid the bill and left the club with Paula. They had come by taxi and Tweed was looking for another cab. Of course, there was no sign of one.

'We'll find a cab and I'll see you safely home,' he said.

'That isn't necessary. It's out of your way. You can see me into a taxi and it will take me straight home.' 'Are you sure?'

'I'm certain.'

Tweed was in two minds. His instinct was to drop her off at her flat in the Fulham Road. On the other hand he wanted to go back to his office. He felt sure Monica would be working on her profiles into the early hours. He was impatient to see what she had come up with - and to add to her list the name of Jake Ronstadt. He had sensed something disturbing about the American's personality.

'That was odd,' Paula remarked, pulling her coat more tightly round her against the chilly night, 'Rupert, of all people, turning up at the bar.'

'He probably haunts places like that at night. Especially a new one like Goodfellows, only opened two months ago. On the lookout for new girl friends. You told me Mrs Belloc, down at Irongates, made a reference to his harem.'

'He's a typical rich man's son. An idler and a wastrel. He seemed to know Windermere.'

'Like attracting like. Both of them are worthless.'

'At one moment it looked like turning ugly,' Paula reflected. 'Bob certainly moved fast, getting Windermere out of the club.'

'Here's a cab.'

Tweed flagged it down. He opened the rear door and Paula dived inside, glad to get into some warmth. Tweed gave the driver a banknote to cover the fare and the tip.

'It's your job to see my friend gets back safely to the address I've given you.'

'With a tip like that, mate, I'd take her safely to Singapore,' the driver a.s.sured Tweed.

'I must be tired,' Paula called out to Tweed after she had lowered the window. 'I forgot to thank you for a marvellous dinner. I feel so relaxed.' She leaned out, kissed him on the cheek. 'Thank you again.' She looked down at the pavement. 'And don't get wet - it must have rained when we were inside.'

'Good night. See you in the morning.'

Newman had two surprises when he steered Basil outside Goodfellows. His companion suddenly straightened up, walked a few very steady paces before he turned back.

'Aren't you coming? You know my flat is just off Regent Street. Takes only a few minutes to hoof it there.'

Newman's second surprise was when he looked across the street at another restaurant. Sitting at the window table by himself, still wearing the horn-rims, was Marler. What on earth was he up to?

'I said, aren't you coming?' Basil called out again. 'b.l.o.o.d.y cold hanging around out here.'

'That flat of yours must be d.a.m.ned expensive,' Newman commented as he hurried to walk alongside his companion.

Basil, striding along, showed no sign that he was affected in any way by the amount of alcohol he had consumed. He was even humming a tune.

'Awfully d.a.m.ned expensive,' he agreed in a lordly way. 'What does it matter? I've borrowed it from a wealthy lady who has gone abroad.'

'Do you ever buy anything yourself?' Newman wanted to know.

'Not if I can help it. Here we ire. Down this side street.'

Newman had the uncanny feeling they were being followed. He glanced back once. Couldn't see any sign of another human being. Odd. His instinct in that direction had always been right before. They walked rapidly down the narrow street. It was deserted. Basil stopped by his front door, felt for his keys. Newman turned to see if he could fit key into lock first time. He did without hesitation.

'Bob,' he said, turning on his heel. 'Now we've got here I'm feeling a bit tired.'

'Go straight up to bed,' Newman urged, relieved he wouldn't have to spend any more time with him. 'You look fresh but...'

'I was up till 4 am last night - that is, this morning. Do you mind? And thanks for coming with me.'

'Off to beddy-byes.'

Basil disappeared inside, closed the door. Newman felt spots of rain on his face. He swung round and Marler was only a few paces away. Newman grinned, punched Marler on his shoulder.

'Thought I had a tail.'

'You did. But it wasn't me.'

'Who the h.e.l.l was it, then?'

'The Ear. He's been tracking Windermere all evening. I just wonder why.'

'Where is the Ear?'

'Ahead of us. He slipped past you when you watched Windermere opening his door. You never hear him. You rarely see him. And we're going to get soaked. Let's walk on, find a cab.'

They turned up the collars of their raincoats. It was very quiet. Only the patter of the rain and the squelch of their shoes on the pavement. Newman stopped suddenly, staring ahead. A small figure wearing a trilby hat appeared out of nowhere, shuffling away from them.

'I wonder who that is,' Newman mused.

'That is the Ear. Maybe he wants to talk to me. Now he is slowing down. Why?'

He looked up as he spoke and thunderclouds seemed almost to touch the top of the flat roofs of the terrace houses, most turned into flats, one of which was occupied by Basil Windermere. A brilliant flash of lightning was followed instantly by a deafening clap of thunder.

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