The Janus Man Read Online Free PDF

something big — otherwise, why murder him?'
    `Don't let's over-dramatize, old boy.' Howard, six foot tall, wearing a new made-to-measure chalk-stripe suit, perched his behind on the arm of an easy chair. 'We don't know that for sure — from what Hugh has just told me...'
    `Hugh knows damn-all. I'm keeping the wraps on this one.'
    `Hugh's a good chap,' Howard protested. 'And I heard in Paris from Pierre Loriot the quiet streets are empty. The Russian laddies have all gone home — doubtless to listen to Uncle Mikhail and make their number with him.'
    `Pierre said that?' Tweed leaned forward, intrigued by Howard's news. The reference to 'quiet streets' was parlance for the Soviet embassies located in discreet areas. 'That was his report,' Tweed pressed. 'What was his opinion?'
    `There has to be a difference?' Howard studied his manicured nails, his plump face smug.
    `Well, was there? You tell me.'
    `I suppose you could say there was a subtle shade of difference. Pierre did say the pregnant silence — his phrase — worried him. Just his opinion though. Pierre isn't happy without something to worry about. Keeps him late at the office — away from that awful wife in Passy. He'd read the telephone directory rather than go home before ten...'
    And so would you, matey, Tweed thought, but didn't say so. It was well-known Howard's relations with his rich wife, Cynthia, had become distant. 'Clear out of sight,' was Monica's comment.
    If there's nothing else...' Tweed began.
    `Think that's all.' Howard stood erect, straightening his tie. `Sorry about Fergusson, and all that. Goes with the territory, of course...'
    `Not with my territory,' Tweed shot back as Howard strolled to the door and left the room. He looked at Monica. 'Hamburg next stop …'
    Six
    July 10 1985 . Flight LH 041 arrived at Hamburg dead on time at 1255 hours. Tweed peered from his first-class seat through the window as the machine descended through a grey vapour. The greyness dissolved, Germany spread out a few hundred feet below.
    He studied the jigsaw of cultivated fields and plantations of firs and pines. Narrow sandy tracks led inside the woodlands from the outside world. Peninsulas of housing estates poked into the fields, then the countryside was inundated by the urban tide.
    More trees as the plane dropped lower. He remembered this approach to Hamburg, one of his favourite German cities. A stranger would never realize he was passing over the city. In the seat behind him Newman was not peering out of the window. His eyes were flickering over the other passengers, searching for anyone taking an interest in Tweed. They landed.
    Tweed was the first passenger to walk down the mobile staircase, Newman the third. They had travelled from Heathrow as though they had never met. Tweed was standing by the carousel, waiting for his two cases, when Chief Inspector Otto Kuhlmann of the Federal Police joined him.
    `Got a light?' Kuhlmann asked in German, holding his cigar.
    `I think I can accommodate you,' Tweed replied in the same language. He lowered his voice as he flicked on the lighter and the German bent forward. 'I have two cases, as you suggested over the phone...'
    `Point me to the first one. I'll take that.'
    When the first case appeared Kuhlmann leaned forward and heaved it off the moving belt. He then had trouble relighting his cigar with Tweed's lighter. The second case appeared, Tweed grabbed it, accepted the lighter from Kuhlmann and they walked away together from the crowd gathered round the carousel.
    Anyone watching would have assumed the two men had travelled together on Flight LH 041 from Heathrow. Outside the reception hall Kuhlmann led the way to an unmarked police Audi, they both climbed into the back and the driver left the airport.
    `That little manoeuvre may have covered your arrival,' the German commented as they drove along tree-lined streets. Entering Hamburg was like driving into the country.
    ` May is the operative word. Where are we going