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of it. He just doubled his normal fee, which I was happy to pay. This assassin is pretty damned good. He killed that French Minister a few weeks ago, the one who made a powerful speech attacking the Americans, accusing them of trying to take over the world. A month before that he took out Heinz Keller, the German politician who is anti-American and might have one day become Chancellor of Germany.'
    'Sounds as though the assassin is American,' Paula speculated.
    'That's one thing he isn't,' Marler corrected her. 'It makes sense when you come to think of it. If he was ever caught Washington would take worldwide flak. Our friends across the Atlantic appear to have become more sophisticated. Diabolical might be the word.'
    'Do we get a name?' Newman prodded impatiently. 'Why not?' Marler said offhandedly. 'He's called the Phantom.'

    'He sounds very sinister,' Paula commented.
    'Sinister,' Marler agreed, 'highly skilled and professional. He assassinated the heavily guarded Prime Minister. Afterwards Special Branch never found the rifle he used. Imagine smuggling that away with a horde of security men checking everyone they could find. And the devil's firing point was the rooftop of a warehouse used for storing books. A repeat of Dallas all those years ago.'
    'Has the Ear any clue as to his nationality?' pressed Newman.
    'He's European, could even be an Englishman. The Ear stressed that was a rumour. He didn't know whether it was true.'
    'So his identity is completely unknown?' Newman asked.
    'Completely. Rumoured he has a number of girl friends. Again the Ear emphasized that also was no more than a rumour.'
    'So we have no name.'
    'None at all. As yet. The Ear is going on digging. Speaks good English. He'll contact me here if he finds out more. Monica, he'll give the name of Maurice and leave a message. Maybe just an address and a time and day.'
    'Any other clue?'
    'Only one, which could be misleading. The Ear says it's known he's paid in dollars. That could be a smokescreen. Could be some other nation is his paymaster.'
    'You've done well,' said Tweed. 'Now I think we should all hear what Bob has to tell us.' He looked at Marler. 'He has just returned from escorting Cord Dillon to the Bunker. Come to think of it, maybe Paula had better put you in the picture first. She had a bit of an adventure late yesterday evening.'
    'A bit of an adventure,' Paula repeated ironically. 'That's one way of describing it. Here goes...'
    Newman and Marler watched her as she gave a terse account of her experience with Cord Dillon. She started with her leaving the hotel in Albermarle Street. Yet again Newman thought that Paula was a very attractive woman. In her thirties, slim with a very good pair of legs, her black hair had a glossy sheen, falling just short of her collar. She had a face with strong bone structure and a determined chin. Her voice was soft but he could hear clearly every word she said. Smartly dressed in a two-piece navy blue suit she was a woman men in the street turned to look at. Above all else she was enormously capable and had great stamina.
    'That's it,' she ended. 'And that's enough, I'd say.' 'Tough cookie,' said Marler, squeezing her shoulder. 'If you say so.'
    'Now it's Bob's turn to bring us up to date,' Tweed suggested.
    He made occasional notes as Newman outlined everything that had happened when he'd escorted Dillon to the Bunker. Monica was recording the entire story, as she had with Paula.
    'That's it,' Newman concluded, 'to quote Paula.'
    'It's a lot,' Tweed said. 'Some of it very disturbing. Now we have quite an array of players in ;this grim game. Monica, in the morning I'd like you to start building profiles on these people. Jefferson Morgenstern, esteemed Secretary of State, whom I know. Ed Osborne, the new Deputy Director of the CIA. Both now in London. Sir Guy Strangeways, who lives at the mansion called Irongates at Parham. And...' He paused. 'Sharon Mandeville. Her whole history, which could be interesting.'