A Matter of Honor Read online

  “Which one?” she whispered.

  “In the chauffeur’s uniform.”

  Robin glanced out of the window. “He may be evil, but he’s damned good-looking,” she said, inconsequentially.

  Adam looked disbelieving. Robin smiled apologetically.

  “Everybody’s in,” called a man from the front of the bus. “And I’ve double-checked, and we seem to have one extra.”

  Oh, my God, thought Adam, he’s going to throw me off the bus.

  “My brother,” shouted Robin from the back. “He’s only traveling with us for part of the journey.”

  “Oh, that’s okay then,” said the manager. “Well, let’s be on our way.” He turned to the driver.

  “He’s started looking at the bus,” said Robin. “But I don’t think he can see you. No, you’re all right, he’s now turned his gaze back to the hotel entrance.”

  “I didn’t realize you had a brother,” said the manager, who was suddenly standing beside them. The coach moved slowly out of the square.

  “Neither did I until this morning,” mumbled Robin, still looking out of the window. She turned to face her boss. “Yes, I forgot to mention to you that he might be in Switzerland at the same time as the orchestra. I do hope it’s not going to cause a problem.”

  “Not at all,” said the manager.

  “Adam, this is Stephen Grieg, who, as you will already have gathered, is the orchestra’s manager.”

  “Are you a musician as well?” asked Stephen as he shook Adam’s hand.

  “No, I can truthfully say that I have never been able to master any instrument,” said Adam.

  “He’s tone deaf,” butted in Robin. “Takes after my father. He’s in magazines, actually,” she continued, enjoying herself.

  “Oh, really. Do you publish them or sell them?” inquired Stephen.

  “I’m with Playboy,” said Adam, mentioning the first magazine that came into his head.

  “Playboy, the magazine that produces those fabulous calendars?”

  “What’s so special about their calendars?” asked Robin innocently. “I’m sure Adam can get you one.”

  “Oh, that would be great,” said Stephen. “I hope it won’t put you to too much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all,” said Robin, leaning over Adam conspiratorially. “Actually, to let you in on a little family secret, there is a rumor at H.Q. that Adam will soon be joining the main board. The youngest member in the publishing company’s history, you know.”

  “How impressive,” said the manager, taking a closer look at the orchestra’s latest recruit.

  “Where shall I send the calendar?” bleated out Adam.

  “Oh, direct to the RPO. No need to tell you the address, is there?”

  “In a brown paper envelope, no doubt,” said Robin. “And don’t worry about the year. It’s not the dates that he gets worked up about.”

  “What time are we expecting to reach Frankfurt, Stephen?” shouted a voice from the front.

  “Must leave you now,” said the manager. “Thanks for the promise of a calendar. Robin’s right, of course—any year will do.”

  “Who taught you to spin a yarn like that?” asked Adam, as soon as he was out of earshot.

  “My father,” said Robin. “You should have heard him at his best. In a class of his own. The problem was my mother still believed every word.”

  “He would have been proud of you today.”

  “Now we’ve found out what you do for a living,” said Robin, “may we learn what’s next on the agenda for the youngest director of Playboy?”

  Adam smiled. “I’ve started trying to reason like Rosenbaum, and I think he’ll stay in Geneva for at least an hour, two at the most, so with luck I’ll get a fifty-mile start on him.” He unfolded the map across the two seats.

  His finger ran along the road the bus was traveling on, and it was Robin who spoke first.

  “That means you could make Zurich airport before he has any chance of catching up with you.”

  “Perhaps,” said Adam, “but that would be too much of a risk. Whoever Rosenbaum is,” he went on, abiding by Lawrence’s request to be cautious by not letting Robin into his secret, “we now know for certain that he has a professional organization behind him, so I must expect the airports to be the first place he will have covered. And don’t forget the Swiss police are still on the lookout for me as well.”

  “So why don’t you come on to Frankfurt with us?” asked Robin. “I can’t believe you’ll have any trouble from Stephen.”

  “I’ve thought about that already but discounted it also as too great a risk,” said Adam.

  “Why?”

  “Because, when Rosenbaum has had time to think about it,” said Adam, “the one thing he’ll remember is this bus. Once he’s found out the direction we’re heading in he’s sure to come after us.”

  Robin’s eyes returned to the map. “So you’ll need to decide where and when to get off.”

  “Exactly,” whispered Adam. “I can risk sixty to seventy miles, but not a lot further.”

  Robin’s finger ran along the little road. “About here,” she said, her finger stopping on a little town called Solothurn.

  “Looks about the right distance.”

  “But once you’re off the bus, what will you do for transport?”

  “I’ve little choice but to walk or thumb lifts—unless I pinch another car.”

  “With your luck, Rosenbaum will be the one person who stops to pick you up.”

  “Yes, I’ve thought about that as well,” said Adam. “I would have to find a long stretch of road where I can see without being seen for about one hundred yards, and then thumb lifts only from British cars or cars with British license plates.”

  “They taught you a trick or two in the army, didn’t they?” said Robin. “But how do you intend to cross the frontier with your passport?”

  “That’s one of the many problems I haven’t yet come up with a solution for.”

  “If you decide to stay with us,” said Robin, “it wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Why?” asked Adam.

  “Because whenever we cross a border they only count the number of people on the bus and the number of passports, and as long as they tally, the customs officials don’t bother to check everyone individually. After all, why should they? The RPO is not exactly an unknown quantity. All I would have to do is add your passport to the bundle and mention it to the manager.”

  “It’s a clever idea, but it’s not on. If Rosenbaum caught up with me while I’m still on this bus, then I would be left with no escape route.”

  Robin was silent for a moment. “Once you’re on your own, will you contact Lawrence again?”

  “Yes I’ve got to let him know what happened this morning, because whoever he’s dealing with must have a direct line to Rosenbaum.”

  “Could it be Lawrence himself?”

  “Never,” said Adam.

  “Your loyalty is touching,” said Robin, turning to look at him, “but what you actually mean is you don’t want to believe it could be Lawrence.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Like my mother didn’t want to believe that my father was a liar and a drunk. So she turned a blind eye to his little foibles. You know, even when he dropped dead of cirrhosis of the liver, her only words were, ‘strange for a man who never drank.’”

  Adam thought about his relationship with Lawrence and wondered if you could know someone for twenty years and really not know him at all.

  “Just be wary how much you let him know,” advised Robin.

  They sat in silence as Adam checked the map and went over all the different possible routes he could take once he had left the bus. He decided to aim for the German border and take the long route back to England, from Hamburg or Bremerhaven, rather than the shorter, more obvious route via Calais or Ostend.

  “Got it,” said Robin suddenly.

  “Cot what?” said Adam, looking u