Vorpal Blade (25 page)

Paula stared at it closely by the overhead light Beck had
switched on. She turned it slowly this way and that to try and see something which would identify the body. It was
hopeless. Just a nerve-racking mass of dried blood.

'I can't even see whether the cut is a neat slice or ragged.
That's important.'

'Why?' asked Beck.

Tweed explained to him what they had discovered in
both the Foley and Holgate beheadings: the clean way the
blade had cut and the position and shape of the notch in
the blade.

'I'll tell Dr Zeitzler. He's the pathologist I called to Montreux from Zurich. I persuaded him to stay on until
we get our hands on the corpse.'

'Why is this Dr Zeitzler from Zurich?' Paula wondered.
'I would have thought a pathologist from Berne, the
capital, would be called.'

'Ah!' Beck chuckled. 'I insist on using the absolute tops
in every sphere of my operations. The best pathologist
by far in the whole of Switzerland is Dr Zeitzler. Very
dominant but he knows what he's talking about. Like him,
you will spend the night at Le Montreux Palace. You and
Paula have suites.'

'That's very generous,' said Paula. 'I remember Le
Montreux Palace. It's by far the best hotel in the city.'

'I've booked Newman into an attic,' Beck remarked
casually.

'Thanks a lot,' Newman growled from behind them.

'Just joking,' said Beck, so fluent in English. 'You do
have a very nice room waiting for you . . .'

While they were talking the limo had made good progress along the wide autoroute leading to Montreux at the far end of Switzerland's largest lake. Paula looked out of the window on her side, revelling in the undulating crests
of the Jura, tipped with the white of snow. Stretching
across to the highway she saw in the moonlight the neat grids of the vineyards which would start to flourish later.
Here and there neat little villages of stone were laid out
in organized rectangles. Each had an onion-domed spire
of a tiny church. So Swiss. So peaceful.

She looked the other way beyond Tweed and Beck,
towards where she knew the lake stretched. In the distance,
on the French side of the lake, grim mountain crags reared
up. Sheets of rain like long slanted needles close together
suddenly appeared, sweeping towards them. Beck pointed
in their direction.

'We shall soon pass Ouchy, where the autoroute is close
to the lake,' he remarked. 'The storm is building up at this
end of Lac Leman. The forecast is for it to go away in the
early morning. Then we hope the body will return to us.'

Paula felt sleepy. She moved so her head was on the
rest. So comfortable. The limo purring quietly along on
the superb highway. She fell fast asleep.

She was woken up by Tweed gently shaking her arm.
Blinking, she sat up straight, aware of two things. The limo was slowing, then stopping. Her right hand still clasped the
briefcase with the precious book on her lap.

'We have arrived in Montreux,' Tweed told her as the limo stopped.

She peered up out of the window. A yellow-gold colossus
of a hotel which seemed to stretch along the Grand-
Rue forever loomed above her. Many rooms had balconies but no one was using them tonight as the rain
sheeted down. Smartly uniformed servants appeared hold
ing huge umbrellas, opened their doors. Huddling under the umbrellas, Tweed and Paula hurried inside followed by Beck and the rest of their team.

At the reception area they produced their passports while
Beck stood a distance away. The receptionist welcomed
them warmly as he noted down details.

'You're not full at this time of the year, I imagine,'
remarked Tweed.

'No, sir. But you have just missed being with us at the
same time as another honoured guest.'

'Who was that?'

'The Vice-President of the United States.'

16

'Can't be helped,' Tweed said to the receptionist. 'I was talking to Russell Straub in London barely a week ago.'

Paula had trouble stifling a chuckle. Tweed certainly
extracted mileage from the brief confrontation he'd had with the Vice-President at Sophie's birthday party.

'Really, sir,' the receptionist commented, impressed. 'He left here about an hour ago. After dark.'

'By train, I expect?'

'Oh no, sir. He drove himself off in a big Ford.'

'On his way to Berne, I suppose,' Tweed replied, choos
ing the first city which came into his head.

'I've really no idea where he was going. He was out of
the hotel a lot, kept very much to himself.'

'We'd better get up to our rooms. Dinner is still being
served?'

'Yes, indeed, it is.'

Paula was taken one way to her suite while Tweed,
accompanied by Beck, was taken in another direction. His
suite was spacious, had a balcony overlooking the lake. He
turned to Beck after paying the porters.

'Can we see from this balcony where the body was
discovered first?'

'If you don't mind risking getting a bit wet, although I
see they have lowered the blind.'
He led the way outside
and pointed. 'You can hardly see it from here because of the evergreens. It was down there by the
quai.'

'So now we can only hope,' Tweed said, going inside.

'I have sent out a large patrol boat with a huge scoop
to see if they can find it. I'll be leaving now.' He picked
up a hotel pad, scribbled down a number. 'I shall be at
this number all night. It's the police HQ not far from
the
quai.'

After a quick wash Tweed went in search of Paula's
suite. On the way he bumped into Newman on the same quest. The hotel was huge but eventually they found the
room. Tweed knocked on the door.

'Who is it?' Paula called out cautiously.

'Tweed here.'

She unlocked the door and they walked into a suite
on the scale of Tweed's. Paula had already changed for dinner into a sleeveless midnight-blue dress and a high
collar. Tweed walked round, peered out of the window.

'This is pretty isolated,' he remarked.

'That's what I thought,' Paula agreed. 'If either of you
needs me, knock four times on the door, pause briefly,
then knock once. Repeat the code if I don't respond. After
dinner I think I'm going to fall into a deep slumber. But
now I am
ravenous . . .'

Reaching the entrance to the restaurant Tweed paused,
told the head waiter he'd like a moment to look round.
Paula peered round him while Newman shuffled his feet
impatiently. She let out a gasp.

'Oh, my God. I don't believe it.'

'What is it now?' Newman asked.

'Look at that table over there by the window, half
hidden. Marienetta with Sophie.
And
with Black Jack
Diamond. What the devil's happening?'

'Why don't you go over and see them?' Tweed sug
gested. 'Bob and I will grab a table over there, well away
from them. I suggest you chat to Marienetta. You get on well with her.'

Paula made her way between the tables. She was only
halfway there when Marienetta, wearing a strapless dress, spotted her, jumped up from her chair. She hugged Paula the moment she reached their table.

'Now I will have someone interesting to talk to. I'm so
glad to see you.'

'What the devil are you doing in this part of the world?'
Black Jack, lolling in his seat, called out.

'I might ask you the same question,' Paula rapped
back.

'She's following us,' Sophie said unpleasantly.

'Since I'd no idea you were even in Switzerland that
would have been a difficult achievement,' Paula replied
amiably.

'They've been having another row,' Marienetta said,
taking Paula by the arm. 'Let's go over by ourselves to
the bar. I feel like a Cointreau.'

And I feel like food, Paula thought, but she allowed
herself to be parked at the bar. She asked for a
small
glass of Chardonnay. Marienetta ordered her Cointreau, enthusiastically admired Paula's outfit.

'What
are
you doing here?' Paula enquired.

'Uncle has a very advanced plastics plant at Vevey just
down the lake towards Ouchy. He came over unannounced
to check progress. Expected me to come with him because
he knows I'm better at administration. Sophie's baby,
really. She is the scientist.'

'Roman is staying here?'

'He was. He drove off somewhere by himself a couple of
hours ago. Don't ask me where to. He's so secretive. An
early business experience gave almost a mania for secrecy.
I saw police cars rushing down to the lake front before
dinner.'

'What was that about?' Paula wondered.

'No idea. Before we left London, Roman introduced Sophie to the American millionaire he'd chosen to get her away from Black Jack. Apparently he was taking Sophie
out for lunch in a cab. They arrived at the restaurant, the
American found he had no English money, tried to borrow
the fare from Sophie. That did it. She turfed him out, told
the cabbie to take her back to ACTIL.'

'Doesn't take a lot to upset her, does it?'

'Not if she's in a mood. She found out we were flying
out here and decided to fly out on her own, that is with
Blackjack.'

'Why?'

'To pay back Uncle for trying to palm her off on the
American. The slightest little thing can set her off. Uncle
was livid when he saw Black Jack out here - refused to eat
with them.'

'When did you all come out here?' Paula asked casually
between munching pretzels. Anything to keep the demon
hunger at bay.

'May I ask why you're out here with the formidable
Tweed and the tough guy, Robert Newman?'

'We're heavily involved in these horrific murder cases.
A third victim - another headless corpse - has been found
floating in the lake. Still out there somewhere.'

'Oh, my God! That explains the flurry of police cars.'
She paused. 'Whose body is this
one?'

'We don't know. Hope you don't mind my mentioning it but I haven't eaten for weeks.'