By Stealth tac-9

by Colin Forbes

  `You usually stay inside,' Newman commented. 'It's going to he a rough crossing.'

  `I need the fresh air to keep my brain moving…'

  Sunk deep in thought, the passage seemed over in a flash to Tweed. They drove off at Rodby and were in Denmark.

  Still sunk deep in thought, the car drive to Copenhagen also passed in a flash for Tweed. They drove past the old pre-First World War railway station and into a part of Copenhagen few tourists ever visited.

  Following Tweed's instructions, they drove past the grim and grey triangular building which is police headquarters. They turned on to Hambrosgade, a long wide anonymous street running past one side of the triangular building. Newman stared when Tweed pointed to a collection of single-storey wooden cabins.

  `Nielsen works here. Park.'

  Newman gazed at a very long cabin built of wooden planks and painted bright red. The legend on the side read KRIMINAL POLITIET. Cardon said again he would stay with the Merc. as Newman followed Tweed, who walked up to the door, pressed the bell. Inspector Lars Nielsen, Chief of Police Intelligence, opened the door himself.

  `Welcome to Copenhagen, Tweed. And I recognize you,' he said, studying Newman. 'The foreign correspondent. Come inside. Everything is happening.'

  Nielsen was a small thin-faced Dane with strong features and alert blue eyes which seemed to look inside you. The office he led them into was comfortably furnished, to Newman's surprise.

  `How did you come to be expecting me?' Tweed asked after a warm shaking of hands.

  `Otto Kuhlmann phoned me, estimated very accurately when you would arrive. You have to phone him urgently. That phone is scrambler. You'd both like coffee? Good. Have you eaten? Good. I'll be back. Make your call…'

  `Kuhlmann here. Ah, Tweed. Where are you speaking from? You've arrived at Nielsen's log cabin? Marler called me. You should call him now. You have the number? Do it now. Call me back whenever I can help

  …'

  Tweed dialled the number in Tonder. He prepared himself to speak carefully to the hotel proprietor. Marler came straight on to the line.

  `I'm speaking from my lodging house,' he warned.

  Marler had no reason to think his landlady, Mrs Pedersen, now working behind a closed door in the kitchen, was listening in. But he was still going to be careful what he said.

  `I'm with Nielsen in Copenhagen,' Tweed replied. `Have you discovered any sign of our missing package?'

  Tweed held his breath. Package wasn't a very flattering way of referring to Paula, but he also was being cautious.

  `No,' Marler told him bluntly. 'And we've had a delay over finding transport for Butler and Nield. I had to drive them to Avis in Esbjerg – the locals call it Espay, something like that. Both Nield and Butler are trying to locate our friendly doctor. Butler is the one likely to do the job.'

  `There isn't much time left,' Tweed reminded him. `From now on you can get in touch with me either through Nielsen or at the Hotel d'Angleterre in Copenhagen. As soon as events dictate, I expect to arrive in Jutland myself.'

  `That's it then for the moment. I'd better get out on the road myself…'

  In the old house at Tonder Marler put down the phone. He felt relieved that Tweed had arrived in Denmark. But, by God, they had to track down Hyde soon. Time was not on their side.

  Tweed was frantically but purposefully active during the next half-hour. He phoned Commander Noble at Admiralty.

  `I'm sleeping on a camp bed here while this operation is in progress,' Noble said after being assured Tweed was on scrambler from Copenhagen. 'The Minotaur has the new radar system. Tug wants to know which area to patrol.'

  `First tell me, have any more ships vanished?' Tweed asked. 'If so, that will give us some idea whereabouts the Stealth vessels I'm convinced are coming have reached.'

  `A small oil-rig supply vessel has gone missing. North-east of the Shetlands. Between the islands and Norway.'

  `Tug should patrol roughly twenty to thirty miles along the Jutland coast north of the Danish-German frontier,' Tweed suggested.

  That was approximately the position of the cross on a map print Cardon had brought back from Lop Nor in War Room West.

  `He's close to there now. And he's sent a small boat on a so-called courtesy visit to the port of Esbjerg. Equipped with a transmitter that can contact the Minotaur. Can you go to Esbjerg when the crisis is near?'

  `I can. I will. Within the next twenty-four hours would be my guess, or maybe forty-eight. The mastermind behind all this is in Denmark,' Tweed said.

  `Keep in touch. Take care…'

  Tweed had earlier had confirmed to him by Nielsen the data previously passed to Kuhlmann: that Dr Wand had arrived by Lear jet at Kastrup Airport. Also the fact that from Kastrup he had driven himself in a limo to a villa outside Copenhagen.

  `I had my best men watching Kastrup,' Nielsen had told him. 'They followed him in a van to Gentofte. The discreet but thorough surveillance continues. Dr Wand is still there.'

  `Lars, I need to know urgently if Wand leaves that villa. And, if possible, where he's gone to…'

  Nielsen had promised this would be done. Now, still alone with Newman, Tweed phoned three other key men. First, the Special Branch officer in London he had warned earlier about Moor's Landing. While travelling to Copenhagen in the Mercedes Tweed had worked out what three o'clock in the morning would be in different countries -bearing in mind the different clock times.

  `Tweed here. It doesn't matter where I'm calling from…'

  `Howard came to see me,' the officer told him, phrasing his words carefully. 'I know about your official resignation. I'm listening.'

  `The time is approaching for your raid on Moor's Landing. I want the place sealed off, then turned over at three am. All the inhabitants must be arrested as illegal immigrants. I'm synchronizing this when the time comes with three other raids on the continent. Timing is vital.'

  `I'll send a large team to hide in the Southampton area at once.'

  `Good. And don't forget to grab Mrs Goshawk at April Lodge in Brockenhurst.'

  `Already noted.'

  `When I call you to act I may be short of time. The code-word for the operation is Landslide.'

  `Landslide it will be…'

  Tweed next phoned Benoit, gave him similar instructions to raid Vieux-Fontaine, the colony of new houses Paula and Marler had discovered outside Ghent. He gave him the same code-word, Benoit gave him a similar reaction.

  `A team of heavily armed men will be prepared at once. I will lead the raid myself. We'll drag the bastards out of bed, search the houses from top to bottom. I await your call…'

  The third call was to Otto Kuhlmann at Berliner Tor. The German listened, also said he would organize a strike force to stand by. Objective: Neustadt-Something, the colony of new houses west of Blankenese.

  `We'll overwhelm the thugs,' he promised.

  Nielsen came back into the office as Tweed put down the phone. He suggested similar action to be taken at the right moment. Extracting one of Cardon's map prints, he showed the Dane the cross marked on the coast of Jutland.

  `That's the place.'

  `I know it. A settlement of twenty-eight new bungalows built behind the dunes. There's some mystery about it – a holding company based in Luxemburg financed this odd development. It is rumoured a European conglomerate will be using it for a holiday-cum-training course for executives. The bungalows have been furnished and waiting for occupation for some time.' couldn't get permission to use the SAS, Lars. So you'll not have to argue the point with your Minister.'

  `We do have our own elite anti-terrorist squad. We haven't advertised the fact. They are at your disposal.'

  `Could you move them at once to Esbjerg? And let me know how I can get in touch with their leader?'

  `Anton Norlin. A very tough character. I will airlift them to a military training camp just south of Esbjerg. Here is the phone number. Ask for Norlin, use your own name.'

  Tweed tucked the folded piece
of paper inside his wallet, stood up, stretched the aches out of his arms. He shook hands with Nielsen.

  `I can't thank you enough…'

  `Don't try.'

  `So now we'll drive to the d'Angleterre. There may be a few interesting people waiting for us when we arrive…'

  45

  Paula braced herself for the worst. Dr Hyde had arrived in the basement room with Ilena. Both wore white coats and Hyde carried a large old-fashioned doctor's bag. He placed it on the table as Ilena pulled down Paula's left sleeve over her arm.

  `What are you doing now?' Paula snapped.

  Hyde turned slowly round, smiled, exposing his teeth. He pushed his rimless glasses further up his hooked nose and smiled again. It was like the smile of a crocodile which has spotted its prey.

  `Just relax, please. Let Ilena do her work.'

  The Slav-faced woman was unbuttoning Paula's blouse, pulling it down to reveal her bare shoulders and forearm. Her thick fingers removed the shoulder strap, dropping her slip. Paula was revolted by the touch of Ilena's clumsy, ugly fingers.

  Hyde took out a thick roll of cloth, unfastened the knot, opened the roll, and laid it on the scrubbed table. He laid out a row of gleaming scalpels, lovingly felt them with his hands protected with surgical gloves. Paula was chilled with fear. Hyde looked round at her again.

  `The tools of my profession. You have nothing to worry about. I am one of the most skilled surgeons in the world.'

  `You're going to carve me up, you swine!' Paula spat out.

  `Now that is not polite.' A flash of venom appeared for a second in his soulless eyes. 'It is really most important that you relax. Of course, you will be given an anaesthetic. You will feel no pain.'

  `You will when my friends catch up with you,' she flashed back. 'You'll wish you'd never been bloody born.'

  `Dear me, the patient is so agitated. Ilena, are you satisfied you know what you have to do?'

  `I am very OK. I know the work I do.'

  `So, when we operate everything will go smoothly,' remarked Hyde.

  Ilena was lifting her shoulder strap back into place, then she buttoned up the blouse and roughly lifted the sleeve back up over the forearm and shoulder from Paula's hand pinioned by the leather strap. Standing up, she stared down at Paula, her trunk-like arms akimbo.

  Hyde was replacing the scalpels neatly across the cloth and rolling it up with care. Refastening the knot, he slipped the heavy roll back inside his bag. Turning round, he gave Paula an even more ghastly smile.

  `That was merely a rehearsal. I said you had nothing to worry about. You must learn to trust me, to have confidence in my abilities. Give her some more soup for lunch, Ilena. We must keep up her strength.'

  Followed by Ilena, Hyde climbed the stairs, opened the door and disappeared. As usual, Ilena slammed the door shut. Paula heard the key turn in the lock. Her reaction was a mixture of relief and murderous fury.

  A rehearsal! The sadistic bastard. She was bathed from head to toe in sweat. She'd have given anything for a bath, a change of clothes. As sweat dripped off her she suddenly thought the liquid might help.

  Once again she began slowly twisting her damp wrists under the straps. They felt looser. Careful not to hurry, she went on working her wrists from side to side. Then she relaxed her fingers and pulled her arm upwards. This time her hand came half-free from the strap. Only the width of her knuckles held her prisoner. She began again, working her wrists from side to side.

  `Are we getting anywhere at all tracing this Johnny Clausen?' Marler asked Butler.

  They were standing on the south-eastern outskirts of Tinglev. The countryside was level with monotonous fields and a track leading across them away from the town. Marler's Mercedes was parked by the roadside behind the Volvo Butler had hired in Esbjerg.

  `I've found out where Johnny lives. In a small cul-de- sac not far from here,' Butler replied. 'He's out on a job with his car, taking a passenger to Bolderslev – that's a short distance north of here. I'll be waiting for him when he gets back.'

  `You have to make him talk,' Marler insisted. 'How are you going to go about it? Every minute counts.'

  `In the back of my car on the floor is a long loop of rope. Bought it from a ship's chandler. Follow me..

  He led Marler along the track. No one else was about. A few cows grazed in a nearby field. The track curved behind a large clump of trees and the landscape changed. Marler stared at a treacherous-looking stretch of marshland. Dark water stood still amid large tufts of acid-green, grass. Under the water he detected a bed of slime and mud.

  `Johnny Clausen must talk,' Marler emphasized. 'Must tell us where he took Dr Hyde.'

  `Leave it to me. Johnny will talk,' Butler said. 'I guarantee it.'

  Pete Nield climbed out of his own hired Volvo. Carrying a photo of Dr Hyde, he walked into a small bar furnished with dark oak. The counter, the ceiling beams, the woodblock floor all oak. No one else was in the place as he approached the barman, ordered a glass of Coke.

  `I'm looking for a friend who was supposed to be staying round here,' he began and smiled. 'I owe him some money. Here's a picture I once took of him. Have you by any chance seen someone like this recently?'

  He placed the photo on the scrupulously clean bar-top. It was the tenth place Nield had visited that day up and down the coast and inland. The florid-faced barman, polishing a glass which was already gleaming, stared at the photo for longer than Nield would have expected. Then he looked up at his customer.

  `Did you say this man was a friend?'

  Sensitive to people's reactions, Nield heard alarm bells ringing. He fingered his trim moustache.

  `I was being polite. Frankly I don't much like him. So that is another reason I want to pay back the loan with interest. Then I'm rid of him.'

  `He was in here yesterday. He had three double gins. I had one other customer, a young attractive girl. He was making suggestions to her she didn't like. When he asked for another double gin I told him he'd had enough. He swore at me before he staggered out to his car.'

  `To his Volvo?' Nield suggested.

  'No. It was a blue Fiat. I went to the door to watch him drive off. The Fiat seemed to be a drunk as he was.' `He is staying here in Tonder?'

  `No idea. Never seen him before. Never want to see him again. I spent twelve months in London once serving behind bars – and never saw such an unpleasant type.'

  Nield thanked the barman and went out. He sat behind the wheel of his Volvo, drumming his fingers on the rim.

  `Sighted in Tonder.'

  He must report that to Marler urgently.

  Tweed and Newman walked into the reception hall of the Hotel d'Angleterre while Cardon paid off the cab driver.

  Newman had decided not to advertise the fact of his Mercedes' existence. He had left it in a car park near the Radhuspladsen – the Town Hall Square. Danish words were jaw-breakers. The three men had then taken a taxi to the hotel.

  Tweed sat in a chair facing a receptionist across a desk, registered for three separate rooms. Lifting his case, he walked up the steps to an interior lounge area. Unlike the Four Seasons, this sitting area had no windows on the outside world. The chairs were comfortable but lighting was dim. A few groups of people were scattered round the room.

  Lee Holmes, wearing a black off-the-shoulder dress, jumped up. She walked straight towards Tweed, with a slight but graceful swing of her hips. don't believe it,' she began. She kissed him on the cheek. 'You're following me.' She lowered her voice. 'At least I hope you are. I know a night club where we could have a lot of fun. A bit noisy but lively. Will you escort a lady this evening?'

  `Not sure of my plans. Let's decide later.'

  He was watching over her shoulder. Helen Claybourne had stood up from where she had been sitting with Lee and Willie. She strode over, very erect, held out her hand.

  `Welcome to Copenhagen, Mr Tweed.' Her cool grey eyes gazed into his. 'Could we have a chat somewhere quiet?'

  `He's mine,'
Lee informed her.

  Willie had trotted after them. Beaming all over his face, he clasped Tweed round the shoulder.

  `My dear chap. How about a drink? Celebrate our reunion. It's a small world, or has that been said before? Never mind. A drink…'

  `Not just now, thank you. We've only just arrived. I don't see the Brigadier.'

  `Better look behind you. Creeps up on you like a cat.'

  `I heard that remark,' a familiar voice growled.

  Tweed glanced over his shoulder. Burgoyne had come from the direction of the old-fashioned elevator leading to the upper floors. Dressed in cavalry twill trousers, a navy blue blazer with gold buttons, and a cravat at his neck, he didn't look pleased to see Tweed.

  `Can't shake you off, can we?'

  `I thought it might be the other way round. Newman told Helen we'd stay at this hotel.'

  `Helen keeps herself to herself. Interesting to hear she is on such close terms with Newman..

  `Drop dead!' Helen told him savagely, her eyes blazing.

  Tweed nodded, joined Newman and Cardon who had been watching and listening with amusement. He led them to the old-fashioned elevator and pressed the bell.

  `There's a bank of elevators over there,' Newman remarked.

  `More room in here with our luggage,' said Tweed, who had used the hotel before. As the elevator began to ascend he spoke again. 'Come to my room, both of you. Didn't take us long to bump into the Burgoyne Quartet. Significant.'

  Inside the villa at Gentofte, Mrs Kramer entered Dr Wand's room at the rear of the house. Wand, studying a map of the coast of South Jutland, closed the map.

  'What is it?' he snapped with unusual brusqueness.

  `A woman calling herself Anne-Marie is on the phone.'

  `Leave me alone so I can concentrate.' He picked up the receiver on his desk. He had been careful to conceal from Mrs Kramer that Anne-Marie was a code-name. `Yes, my dear,' he said, am sure you are calling from a public phone box. There has been a development? Please be good enough to bring me up to date.'

  `Tweed,' a woman's voice reported. 'Tweed arrived at the Hotel d'Angleterre here in Copenhagen within the past hour.'