Rhinoceros (17 page)

Paula, on her own, was stalking the fat man in a pink
shirt. His behaviour seemed very odd. Holding his malacca
came in both hands, she suspected he was directing the
onslaught. At the very least he was closely observing the
effectiveness of the attack. He was facing away from her as
she crept up behind him. She rammed her .32 Browning
automatic into his back.

'This is a gun,' she yelled in a fierce voice. 'Shove off
and don't come back.'

The fat man dropped his cane. Then Paula was knocked off balance as a thug collided into her. She swung round, hit the thug across the jaw with the muzzle of her gun. He staggered back, slid down a wall, lay still. When she was
free to turn round to confront Pink Shirt the fat man had vanished. She couldn't see him anywhere. And his cane
had vanished with him.

Tweed was running after Lisa, who was pursuing Delgado.
Her raincoat flapped as Delgado disappeared round a cor
ner. As she peered round the corner he struck at her with
a club. It grazed the side of her head. She staggered back, fell. Delgado came back, raised his club to finish her off. Tweed grabbed hold of the Beretta, tucked in the back of her raincoat belt. He hauled it out, aimed it point-blank at
the giant. Delgado changed his mind, disappeared round
the corner. Tweed peered round cautiously, in time to see
the giant vanish down an alley. He turned his attention
to Lisa.

Her pulse was irregular, her eyes closed. He lifted her
as Newman appeared. Appalled, he gazed down at Lisa.
Tweed snapped at him.

'We've got to get her to the clinic. No help round here. So drive my car if we ever reach it.'

Newman went wild, using brute force to clear the route
to the car. He opened the rear door and, gently, Tweed
carried Lisa inside, sitting down with her head on his lap. The rear door was slammed shut, Newman got behind the
wheel. The car took off like a rocket, Newman keeping one
hand on the horn, blaring non-stop.

CHAPTER 9

They had been waiting at the clinic for an hour. Newman sat
on a chair against a wall in the gleaming white-walled cor
ridor. Tweed was pacing up and down, couldn't keep still.

'Why are they taking so long?' growled Tweed.

'They have to give her a thorough examination, I expect,'
said Newman. 'She's in a private ward?'

'All the wards are private here. Who were you calling on
that wretched mobile?'

'Harry, so he knew where we were. He's on his way . . .'

He stopped speaking as Butler appeared, hurrying down
the corridor. His face was damp with sweat and he had
obviously moved after hearing from Newman.

'How is she?' he asked.

'We don't know yet.'

The consultant, Mr Master, a friend of Tweed's, appeared
in the corridor accompanied by a tall horse-faced sister
Tweed immediately took a dislike to. Master looked at
all three visitors with a serious face.

'I have a problem, Tweed . . .'

'Damnit, how is she? That's what we want to know.'

'Of course. She has concussion at least. The odd thing
is she's now conscious and desperately anxious to see you. It can only be for a few minutes. Oh, this is Sister Vandel
who will be looking after her.'

'Mr Master, I don't agree with her seeing anyone now,'
snapped Vandel.

'You told me that before. What do you think, Tweed?
Seeing you might settle her, if she's still conscious.'

'Take me to her now,' Tweed said decisively.

Master led the way down the corridor, opened a door
numbered 25. The room was spacious, airy, light. Lisa
was lying in a bed under sheets and a blanket. Her
head rested on a pillow and her eyes were closed. The
right side of her head was covered with a large bandage. Tweed was shocked by her complexion. Normally she had
a reasonably high colour but her face was ashen. Part of her red hair had been tied back with a ribbon to keep it
clear of the bandage.

'You see,' said Sister Vandel, 'she's fallen unconscious
again. This visit is pointless.'

Lisa opened her blue eyes, gazed at Tweed. She raised
a limp hand, indicating she wanted him to come close to
her. Tweed, upset, but not showing it, smiled, sat down on a chair next to the bed.

'You're going to be all right,' he said softly.

She smiled, raised the limp hand again, telling him she
wanted him to take it. He took hold of it, squeezed the
fingers tenderly. She feebly squeezed his in appreciation. She was opening and closing her mouth, clearly trying to say something.

'She mustn't talk,' commanded Vandel from the other
side of the bed.

Tweed gave her a certain look, cold, fierce. It was a look
Paula would have recognized, seen only at rare moments
when he violently disapproved of a blunder. Vandel looked
away, disconcerted.

Tweed bent closer to Lisa. The expression in her blue
eyes seemed to communicate that she was desperate to tell
him something. Her mouth opened again and he sensed
she needed to speak clearly.

'Ham . . . Dan.' She made one final effort. 'Four S . . .'

Then she closed her eyes, letting go of Tweed's hand.

He stood up and Vandel came over to hurry him out of
the room. Tweed told Master to send the bill to Park
Crescent when Lisa was fully recovered and left the clinic.
They were in the corridor, the door closed, when Tweed turned to Vandel as Master walked off.

'Sister, your patient is an important witness. There is a remote risk someone may try to get in here to attack her.
I'm therefore posting a guard outside her room round
the clock.'

'We do not allow . . .'

'Sister, look at this.' He produced the folder which
identified him as Deputy Director SIS, opened it, held
it under her nose. 'If you continue objecting I can always
have a word with Mr Master.'

'That won't be necessary,' she said hastily.

'Harry,' Tweed called down the corridor, 'bring your
chair up here. I want you to sit by this door to guard
Lisa against any intruders,' he told him as Harry arrived,
plonked his chair next to the door. 'The only people allowed inside are Mr Master, Sister Vandel here and
any replacement she brings and introduces you to while
she's off duty.'

'Clear enough,' said Harry, staring blankly at the sister.

'If she recovers,' Vandel snapped, 'she'll have to be taken
to another room for a second X-ray.'

'Understood, but Mr Butler will accompany her. Another member of my staff will take over from Mr Butler in a few
hours. I will work out a roster of guards. Meantime, Mr
Butler is probably hungry and thirsty.'

'A big mug of tea with plenty of sugar and a bit of milk
— and a sandwich, ham if you've got it, will do me,' Harry
announced.

'We're not running a hotel for visitors,' Vandel rapped
out.

'Then I'll have a word with Mr Master.'

'Oh, well, I'll see what I can do . . .'

She stormed off down the corridor, disappeared. Harry opened his windcheater a few inches, showed Tweed the
butt of his Walther.

'No one except those you mentioned will get near
her. That Vandal is the dragon of the clinic. There's
always one.'

'Vandel,'
said Tweed.

'Vandal will do for me,' Harry decided.

'I'll send Pete Nield to relieve you as soon as I can,' Tweed assured Butler.

'No 'urry . . .'

On his way out Tweed met Master again. He stopped
to thank the consultant for what he was doing.

'One thing bothered me. Sister Vandel said at one
stage
if
she recovers. I think she was simply frighten
ing me.'

'One can never be sure, but I'm confident the phrase
should have been
when
she recovers.' He looked annoyed. 'I'll have a word or two with Vandel. We'll take good care
of the patient . . .'

Outside in the night Tweed found Newman seated
behind the wheel of his parked car. He explained as Tweed
got in next to him.

'I decided to stay with the car. It's unlikely any of those thugs will get into this area but I wanted to protect the car.
How is Lisa?' he asked, driving off.

'I'd say she's completely exhausted, needs a lot of sleep and quiet. I didn't think she looked all that fresh when we
left Park Crescent.'

He took out his notebook, wrote down
Ham . . . Dan
. , . 4 S.
Then he showed the page to Newman. 'Mean anything to you? Lisa had trouble saying anything but
that's what she said to me.'

'Not a thing. Is it important?'

'Lisa thought it was - to make the effort she did make
to say that to me.'

'You probably didn't hear her properly. In her state it's
likely she was confused.'

'I don't think she was. Could be the key to this bizarre
international situation.'

'Heard on the radio Paris, Berlin and Brussels experie
nced the same type of trouble. The wreckers are abroad.'

'And it's just occurred to me,' Tweed ruminated, 'those
are three of the cities Lord Barford visited recently. If we can believe what Aubrey Barford told Paula in a drunken stupor. And I think we can.'

CHAPTER 10

Marler had driven to Dorset, visited his contact, a retired manager in a security company, living in the model vil
lage of Abbotsbury, north-west of Weymouth. He'd suggested his contact might like to join him, but the
manager had said sorry, he was no longer in shape.

'And those villains I saw ferried ashore last night were
the toughest I've ever encountered . . .'

So, for several hours, Marler had sat in his car alone.
He had driven off the road overlooking Chesil Beach
up a steep track. He was now behind the wheel of his car, parked out of sight behind a clump of shrubbery.
The height gave him a clear view over the seaway east
of Weymouth, over Chesil and west towards Bridport. High-powered night glasses hung from a loop round his
neck.

Chesil Beach was a quite unique phenomenon. Instead of
sand, six miles or more of a great bank of pebbles extended
from Weymouth westward. Marler knew the area, knew
that near Weymouth the 'pebbles' were almost the size of small boulders, gradually diminishing in size as the bank
stretched to the west where eventually they were truly
pebbles in size. He also knew that fishermen, coming
ashore in a fog, could tell where they were by checking
the size of the pebbles.