Part 13 (1/2)

'I'm an owl, like yourself, Mr Tweed. Which suits Miss Mandeville, who likes to work when most people have left the Emba.s.sy.'

'Would you like some coffee?' Newman suggested. 'I'll make it,' Monica said in a brittle tone.

'That would be most acceptable. And a gla.s.s of cold water - if that's not too much trouble.'

She had a cool American voice. Underneath it Tweed detected a very different accent.

'Denise Chatel,' he mused, scrutinizing her through his horn-rims. 'That sounds like a French name.'

'My father was French, my mother American. When I was almost thirty they moved to Was.h.i.+ngton - my father was offered a good job. I went with them.'

'Do you ever return to France?' Tweed persisted gently.

'Oh, frequently. My job takes me to the American Emba.s.sy in Paris. Sharon likes to keep herself well informed about what is going on in Europe.' She smiled. 'Are you interrogating me?'

'Just interested in your unusual international background. An American mother, a French father. What job does he have?'

'He was a diplomat.'

Tweed had not been looking at her as he talked. He was' doodling circles on a pad, intertwining one with another. Something in her change of voice made him look up.

'Was?'

'He died a year ago. So did my mother. They were killed-in a road crash outside Was.h.i.+ngton.'

He could have sworn there was a film of moisture in her eyes. She suddenly picked up her cup of coffee, drank some, put it down, stared round the room like someone hunted.

'My condolences. Not that words mean a thing when something like that happens. What happened to the other car - or cars? I hope you don't mind my asking.'

'Of course not.' She swallowed more coffee. 'The police said there had only been one other car involved so far as they could tell. It vanished. They never found the driver.'

'I say,' Marler interjected, 'would you care to join me for dinner tomorrow evening?'

'May I think it over?' She had twisted round in her chair to address him, to look at him more carefully. 'Thank you for the offer.' She turned back to Tweed, leaned forward and whispered, 'Can you trust the people with us here? I know the woman who brought me coffee doesn't like me.'

'I could trust all three with my life,' he answered quietly. 'I have done in the past.'

'I'm frightened. Scared out of my wits.'

She was speaking again in a normal voice. But a transformation had taken place. When she had arrived she had been full of life, buoyant. Now her blue eyes appealed for help as she gazed at him. On the surface, she was indeed a very frightened lady. Newman refilled her cup.

'Is that the real reason you came to see me?' Tweed asked.

'Yes. I had an excuse to come - I can tell you that later.'

'Why me?'

'Cord Dillon said if ever I was in trouble you were the one man in London I could trust.'

Nothing in Tweed's expression changed. But she had shaken him. His mind was moving round at top speed - considering a variety of possibilities. All of them menacing.

'How did you come to meet this man, Cord Dillon?' he enquired carefully.

'Sharon used to ask him to come to her Was.h.i.+ngton office from Langley. I was always sent out of her office. Dillon struck me as a reliable soul. Once he arrived early and we were alone together in my office. I knew then that Sharon was due to come to London, that I'd be coming with her.'

'What is scaring you?'

'Well...' She paused. 'I saw some of the men who were to come to London. I've seen them since at the Emba.s.sy. They watch every move I make. I found my phone had been bugged. My apartment over here in Belgravia - close to Sharon's - was searched while I was at the Emba.s.sy. It was a highly professional job. Only a woman would notice that certain things were not quite as I'd left them.'

'What do you suggest I do to help you?'

'I want us to keep in close touch.' She turned to look at Marler. 'I'll be happy to have dinner with you tomorrow night. What is your name?'

'Alec,' Marler said instantly, using the first name to come into his head. 'We'll go to the Lanesborough. Can I collect you at your apartment?'

'No! Don't do that.' She was alarmed. 'They have someone watching my apartment whenever I'm there. I'll come to the hotel.'

'Eight o'clock suit you?' Marler suggested. 'I'll be waiting in the bar. I'll arrive early.'

'Thank you.'

'Maybe you'd better, tell us why you were supposed to come here,' Tweed reminded her.

'My G.o.d, I nearly forgot that.' She turned to look at Newman. 'You're having dinner with Sharon tomorrow evening at Santorini's. She sent me over in a limo to say she'll be there at eight thirty.'

'She could have phoned,' Tweed pointed out.

'She told me she'd tried to get you but the line was always engaged.'

Tweed glanced across at Monica, who nodded agreement. She had tied up the lines, making calls to her contacts inside America. She was still building up her profiles.

'I'd better go now,' their visitor said, 'they may wonder why it took so long. And please call me Denise.'

'I'll see you safely into your limo, Denise,' Marler suggested.

'No! Don't do that. They may have followed the limo and then they'll see you. But thank you for the offer.'

'Keep in touch,' Tweed told her, standing up to shake hands. Her grip was firm. 'If you want to tell Marler more tomorrow evening he'll report it to me.

Monica waited until she had gone. Then she began tapping her fingers on her desk to get their attention.

'You're all hooked on her.'

'I don't think so,' Tweed contradicted.

'Well, I do. I grant you she's a real looker.'