Vorpal Blade (34 page)

'I don't think either of you should have anything to do
with that thug. He's only a cheap reporter.'

'I rather like him—' said Sophie.

They didn't hear the rest of her sentence because the
lift doors had closed and it was ascending.

* * *

'A small brandy for you, Paula,' Newman said once they were inside Tweed's suite.

'Not brandy,' Tweed said sharply. 'A glass of water.
Then maybe another.'

'Yes, please.'

Paula had collapsed into an armchair after throwing off
her coat. She swallowed the water in the glass Tweed
handed her, gave it back to him for a refill. She sat with
her knees close together, her hands on the arms of the
chair. Staring into the distance she said nothing for a few
minutes. Tweed put a finger to his lips, warning Newman
not to speak. She had three glasses of water before she relaxed and spoke.

'That was quite something to come back to downstairs.
Sophie and Marienetta at each other's throats.'

'Sophie asked for it,' Newman commented, sitting
opposite to her.

'Then the strange arrival of Black Jack who seems so
anxious to get away from us.'

'The Arbogast family in action,' Tweed remarked.
'Except for Roman.'

'I saw Roman leaving the building - I was with Bob
- well over half an hour ago. I think he was in his
headquarters near the Sihl where it happened. There was a
light in one window on the second floor, the blind drawn.'
She frowned. 'That doesn't mean there was anyone in the room. Whoever had gone up there could have drawn the
blind, switched on the light - and left.'

'Your brain's whirling round,' Tweed said.

'It could be staying at this hotel,' she went on as though her mind were far away. 'It. Whoever committed that foul
atrocity. The indignity of it. Why didn't it take the head
away as it did with the others?'

There was a knock on the door. Newman opened it and
Arthur Beck walked in. His expression was grimmer than
Tweed had ever seen it. Paula looked up, stared at him.

'Why didn't it take the head away this time?'

'I think . . .' Beck paused and studied Paula to assess
what state she was in. He was surprised by her normality.
'I have thought about that,' he started again. 'My theory
is that as it took place in the middle of a big city, whoever
is responsible thought it would be too risky to take away
the head. At Montreux no one would be on the front for
several hours - it was still night. I presume similar isolated
conditions prevailed at Bray in Britain, at Pinedale in
Maine.'

'They did,' Tweed confirmed.

'Now all hell is going to break loose in Switzerland,'
Beck's tone was grim. 'Two Europeans beheaded within days. The press will go mad. The horror of the way they
were killed will add to the panic. Zeitzler is working
through the night on this, his second autopsy. Results
will be ready in the morning. We have the data - films and photos - of the murders abroad for comparison. I'll let you know, Tweed. Now I must dash.'

As Beck left the suite Marler slipped into the room and
took off his raincoat. Tweed
stared at it.

'You've been outside, prowling around?'

'To some profit.' Marler stood against a wall, produced
a cigarette, lit it. 'Did any of you know Sam Snyder is here
in Zurich?'

'No, we didn't,' Tweed replied.

'Odd how he keeps popping up whenever there's one of
these beastly murders,' Paula said quietly.

'Snyder,' Marler continued, 'is staying just up Bahnhofstrasse. At the Baur en Ville. I strolled into their bar, which
you can enter directly from the street, and there he was,
having a drink.'

'You asked him why he was here?' Newman demanded.
'What the devil he was doing?'

'Not quite in those terms,' Marler drawled. 'He'd have
closed up like the proverbial clam. Had a drink with him.

'Why didn't it take the head away this time?'

'I think . . .' Beck paused and studied Paula to assess
what state she was in. He was surprised by her normality.
'I have thought about that,' he started again. 'My theory
is that as it took place in the middle of a big city, whoever
is responsible thought it would be too risky to take away
the head. At Montreux no one would be on the front for
several hours - it was still night. I presume similar isolated
conditions prevailed at Bray in Britain, at Pinedale in
Maine.'

'They did,' Tweed confirmed.

'Now all hell is going to break loose in Switzerland,'
Beck's tone was grim. 'Two Europeans beheaded within days. The press will go mad. The horror of the way they
were killed will add to the panic. Zeitzler is working
through the night on this, his second autopsy. Results
will be ready in the morning. We have the data - films and photos - of the murders abroad for comparison. I'll let you know, Tweed. Now I must dash.'

As Beck left the suite Marler slipped into the room and
took off his raincoat. Tweed stared at it.

'You've been outside, prowling around?'

'To some profit.' Marler stood against a wall, produced
a cigarette, lit it. 'Did any of you know Sam Snyder is here
in Zurich?'

'No, we didn't,' Tweed replied.

'Odd how he keeps popping up whenever there's one of
these beastly murders,' Paula said quietly.

'Snyder,' Marler continued, 'is staying just up Bahnhofstrasse. At the Baur en Ville. I strolled into their bar, which
you can enter directly from the street, and there he was,
having a drink.'

'You asked him why he was here?' Newman demanded.
'What the devil he was doing?'

'Not quite in those terms,' Marler drawled. 'He'd have
closed up like the proverbial clam. Had a drink with him.

Listened. He's pursuing the Arbogast family. Tracked
Sophie and Black Jack to Zurich, slipped aboard the
same plane. The way he traced them from Heathrow.'

'He'd have loved,' Paula began, 'to get a picture of
poor Mrs Elena Brucan in that boat.' He voice was tinged
with rage.

'How was Snyder dressed when you found him in the
bar?' Tweed asked Marler.

'Wearing a fur-lined coat as though he'd just come in
from outside. Under the table was a leather camera case.'

'So maybe he did get pictures,' Newman commented.
'He could have walked down the narrow promenade along
side the Sihl from the other direction. That would be the
quick route from the Baur en Ville.'

'If that leather case was for the purpose of transporting
his camera,' Paula observed.

'Now,' said Tweed, anxious to change the subject, T think
Paula is ready for a small brandy - if you'd do the honours,
Bob. And you were going to tell me, Paula, about your chat
with Marienetta over tea.'

With her perfect memory Paula recalled every word of
her conversation. What she had said, what Marienetta had
said. She also remembered to describe the brief confron
tation Marienetta had with Russell Straub when the Vice-
President entered the lounge. Tweed listened, his eyes
never leaving her, recording every detail in his memory.
She took a sip of brandy, spread a hand.

'That's it. Don't think I've left out anything.'
'And,' Tweed checked, 'Straub looked furious when she
called him cousin.'

'Looked as though he could have killed her.'
'And Marienetta quoted Straub's ex-wife as calling him
a fanatic? That was the exact word used?' 'It was. She confirmed it twice.'

'A wife should know, even if she was on the verge of
throwing him overboard. Gives us an interesting view of
Russell Straub.'

'I could have told you that anyway,' Newman said
dismissively. 'Any politician with a load of money and
party-machine support is not going to be too fussy about
how he gets to be President.'

'I'm rather intrigued by the word "fanatic",' Marler
said.

'Then there's the axe,' Paula said vehemently. 'The
killing weapon. We haven't thought enough about that.
If - and it looks pretty definite - the same axe was
used across the
Atlantic in Maine how was it transported
over here?'

'It could have been taken over from Europe in a case
wrapped in fibreglass,' Newman suggested. 'The case
travels in the cargo hold.'

'So how was it brought back for committing three more hideous murders?' Paula wanted to know. 'Heathrow Cus
toms can order anyone to open a case. The killer would
never take that risk.'

'Then I don't know the answer,' Newman admitted.

'Paula, list those people who we know have travelled to
America,' Tweed requested.

'Here we go again. Marienetta, Sophie, Roman Arbogast,
Black Jack Diamond . . .'

'And why does he fly out there?' Tweed persisted.

'From what we've heard to enjoy himself, tour the clubs,
I'd imagine, look for girl friends. It's his style.'

'And who else do we know has gone?'

'Sam Snyder, who from his arrangement with Roman,
has the use of the Gulfstream when it's available. I'm
running out of names.'

'You're forgetting someone because they're so obvious,'
Marler interjected. 'The Vice-President, Russell Straub. A
man like that can move anywhere without interrogation.'

'There is one more,' Newman added. 'Broden, security
chief for ACTIL. He's in this hotel, presumably watching
over Roman. With his authority he could move anywhere
he liked.'

Tweed had been sitting in a hard-backed chair. He
was leaning forward, hands clasped in front of his lap.
They were suddenly aware he hadn't spoken for a while.
He was looking into space. He spoke now very delib
erately.

'I could narrow that list down. A big piece is missing
from the picture slowly forming in my mind. Paula, how
are you feeling?'

'Normal,' she replied immediately, 'as poor Abraham Seale used to say. Ready for anything.'