Part 22 (1/2)

The lobby was otherwise deserted. Whatever guests were in the hotel would be in the dining room. Marler walked through the revolving door first, stopped in the street, his eyes scanning in all directions. As Tweed, Paula and Newman followed him out he raised a hand to hold them back.

'Thought I saw a shadow disappear behind that corner.'

'Probably your imagination,' said Paula. 'Lord, it's icy cold. And mind your footing - the pavement is slippery.'

One of Basel's small green trams came into view. They heard its rumble as it disappeared, crossing the bridge. Tweed led the way, his hands in his pockets. The air hit them like a blow in the face. Their exposed skin began to freeze as soon as they left the hotel.

'We'll walk up almost to Market-platz,' Tweed told them. recall a phone box in a side street. Lucky I thought to bring plenty of Swiss coins with me.'

Once the rumble of the tram had died away a heavy silence fell. It reminded Paula of the silence of Romney Marsh when she had paused before reaching the Bunker. There was no one about anywhere. The street they were walking up was lined on both sides with old stone buildings. Paula felt hemmed in. She stopped suddenly.

'I can hear footsteps.'

'It's your imagination,' Marler said, repeating what she had said to him a few minutes before.

'Are you sure?' asked Tweed, who respected her acute hearing.

They had all stopped, between the glow of street lamps. She looked back, saw nothing. Marler shrugged impatiently.

'Can you hear them now?'

'No. They've stopped now we have.'

'I want to get to that phone,' Tweed said.

With Newman ahead of them, Paula and Tweed walked beside each other. Marler brought up the rear on his own. They reached the beginning of the large open market square with the Town Hall, elaborately decorated with the symbols of Swiss cantons, behind the huge open s.p.a.ce which was the Market-platz. Marler hitched up the strap of the canvas bag he was carrying higher up his shoulder. They walked a short distance and Marler glanced back again. But he was watching for shadows, not listening for footsteps.

'We turn up this side street,' Tweed told them. 'It's the start of a very ancient part of Basel. And there's my phone box.'

Going inside the gla.s.s box, he extracted coins from his pocket, then at the right moment pressed numbers to call Park Crescent.

'Monica, Tweed here. I'm calling from a public phone. More secure...'

'I'm so glad to hear from you. Happenings. The Bomb Squad checked a key telephone exchange, found two huge bombs, made them harmless. Same thing at Mount Pleasant sorting office. But another bomb had been placed inside a major Knightsbridge store. Blew the first and second floors to smithereens. At least fifty dead and many injured. The number of casualties is rising. That's it.'

'Thank you. I'll keep in touch.'

Outside the box he told the others what Monica had reported. Paula, particularly, was shocked. She stared at Tweed and had trouble getting the words out.

'When is this horror going to end?'

'When we've finished them off. Let's get back to the hotel. I am so cold I feel like a snowman.'

They had reached the end of the side street, had walked a few paces back the way they had come, when Marler held up a hand. He spoke very quickly.

'The Umbrella Men are back. Drop flat! Drop flat!'

Too close for comfort a cl.u.s.ter of four black umbrellas, held low so they concealed their owners, were advancing towards them. For a second Paula was hypnotized by the weird spectacle - the way the dark cones moved towards her, the rims just not touching each other, the umbrellas held quite still, not wavering an inch.

She dropped beside her three companions, who were already flat on the pavement. Fascinated, terrified, as though watching a macabre stage performance, she saw the four umbrellas elevate as one, with martial precision, exposing the four men beneath them. Each wore a dark overcoat, held their umbrellas with their left hands. Their right hands dipped inside canvas bags similar to Marler's, but larger. The hands emerged with astonis.h.i.+ng speed, holding machine-pistols. The barrels of the deadly weapons elevated, again as one, again with military precision, aiming at their targets lying on the pavement. Paula was struggling to extract her Browning, knowing it would be too late. She saw all this as though her vision had quickened.

As he fell, Marler had dived a hand inside his holdall, the flap open. His hand came out holding a grenade. Newman hissed out the words.

That trick grenade won't work this time. It's probably the same lot we met before...'

Paula stiffened. She was waiting for the thud of bullets into her body when a fusillade hammered them. Marler lobbed his grenade over-arm. It sailed through the night air in an arc, landed amid the group of men under the umbrellas. There was a brief flash of light, a loud crack! as the grenade detonated.

Two of their attackers staggered backwards, hit the pavement with heavy thuds. Another one tried to stagger into the empty street, fell forward. The fourth man slumped against a wall, slid down it. Paula had felt vibrations from the detonation pa.s.sing under her. She stared again. Three of the umbrellas had shattered into shards, chips of stone from the nearby building had been hurled across the street. The man who had slumped against the wall had fired a short burst as he collapsed sideways, but his weapon had been pointed upwards. The burst had shattered a street lamp, showering the body with fragments of gla.s.s. What remained of the Umbrella Men were four still bodies.

'We'd better get out of this,' Tweed snapped, jumping agilely to his feet, slipping on ice, recovering his balance. 'Police headquarters are in the next street. The buildings may have m.u.f.fled the sound but we'll take no chances. We'll go back down the opposite side of the street.'

He was walking down the opposite pavement, Paula by his side, when Newman and Marler came up behind them. Marler glanced at his companion.

'That, as you'll now have gathered, was the real McCoy. Have faith in me.'

'You certainly saved our bacon,' Newman said with feeling.

Ahead of them, Paula grasped Tweed's arm. She nodded her head in the direction of the other side of the street. The thug who had collapsed over the pavement edge was almost invisible. His umbrella, the only one to remain intact, had fallen over his p.r.o.ne corpse. It looked as though he was taking a nap and had used the umbrella to shelter under.

'It's surreal,' Paula whispered.

Then she saw on a shop window they were pa.s.sing a huge smear of blood. The temperature was so low it had congealed in the shape of a hand. She shuddered. Tweed hurried her back to the Three Kings. They paused outside to brush snow and dirt off their coats, then walked into the warmth of their hotel.

'Heavenly,' Paula said to herself.

The concierge came from behind his counter to press 'one' by the side of the lift. All four of them were just able to squeeze their way inside.

'We'll all go to my room. Have a drink, said Tweed.

He poured wine from an ice bucket into four gla.s.ses. Before the others sat down they took off their coats. Tweed sat on a couch next to Marler, so they faced Paula and Newman on another couch. Tweed raised his gla.s.s.

'Here's to survival.'

'I'll drink to that,' said Paula with enthusiasm.

'I must apologize to one and all,' Tweed began. 'For being an idiot. I said something like, ”It's lucky they don't know we're here.” They do. Very significant.'

'You're not going to tell us why, of course,' Paula teased.

'I have other things on my mind.' He smiled to take the edge off ignoring her question. 'When Bob went to fetch his coat Keith Kent phoned me. He's coming to see us in the morning.'

'My tummy's rumbling,' Paula remarked.

'Bob,' Tweed requested, 'could you phone down and make sure they'll serve dinner for us? It's a bit late.' He drank some more of his wine. 'Well, that's four of them disposed of, thanks to Marler. A long way to go yet.'

'They'll serve dinner when they see us,' Newman reported, returning from the phone.