by Colin Forbes
"I seem to be in one piece." She said nothing more until they arrived at the station. Beaurain was taking money out of his wallet when she grabbed his sleeve. "Look! There's Berlin just going into the station. He's still carrying his case,"
Running from the cab, they were able to pass straight through the barrier with their return tickets. An express to Brussels was just about to depart. Among the last-minute passengers scrambling aboard they saw the fat figure of Otto Berlin entering a compartment near the front of the train. They just managed to get aboard as the express started moving. Beaurain peered out of the window to make sure Berlin had not jumped off again. The platform was empty. He looked at Louise as they stood in the deserted corridor.
"This is an express. One stop before Brussels -Ghent, which is half an hour away. We've got him -he can't leave a train moving at seventy miles an hour."
Chapter Seven
"We search the whole express - but I want to find Berlin without him seeing us. So we can track him. We start at the front of the train and work our way back. You go first, I'll trail behind you. That way he's less likely to spot us."
The express was about half full. They walked rapidly to the front of the train but neither of them saw Berlin. They began working their way back towards the rear of the express checking every passenger.
"I'll check each lavatory as we go through," Beaurain told her. "If one is occupied we wait at a discreet distance and see who comes out."
They had over fifteen minutes to go when they reached the end of the train. No Berlin. Standing in the corridor Beaurain lit them both cigarettes and they looked at each other. Outside the windows the sunlit countryside flashed past - and again they saw a canal and barges with TV. masts and washing-lines.
"I can't understand it," Louise said. "You checked every lavatory. We've both seen every passenger aboard so what the devil has happened to him? He can't have just vanished into thin air."
"Except that he appears to have done just that."
The stop at Ghent gave no help in solving the mystery. People got off. More passengers boarded the express. No-one even remotely resembling Dr. Otto Berlin appeared. As the train left Ghent they made their way to the front, found an empty compartment in the coach behind the engine, sat down and stared at each other.
"Do we search all over again?" Louise suggested. "We must have missed something."
"We stay here until the train reaches Brussels," Beaurain said firmly. "At Nord we get out pretty sharp, wait by the barrier and check everyone off. No-one can board a train and disappear in a puff of smoke."
At Nord the express emptied itself. Standing a short distance away from Beaurain, Louise watched the passengers trailing past, many of them with luggage and obviously travellers from Ostend and the ferry from England. A squabbling family already tired from their journey and the heat; a crowd of locals wearing berets and chattering away in French; the inevitable priest with his suitcase.
They watched the last person off the express and then joined each other and walked towards the exit. Beaurain spoke as they came outside the station into brilliant sunshine. "We'll take a cab to Henderson's sub-base and see how the tracking of Litov is proceeding. Better than our efforts I hope."
He arranged for the cab to drop them a few minutes from the sub-base and they continued on foot. When they arrived in the first-floor room with the wall-map Beaurain only had to take one look at Henderson's face to know a disaster had occurred.
Pierre Florin, the sergeant you wanted to interview, has been found murdered at his apartment," Henderson informed them. "Commissioner Voisin is anxious to see you as soon as possible."
"How do you know about Florin?" Beaurain enquired.
"I phoned your apartment to see if you had arrived back - and Chief Inspector Willy Flamen of Homicide answered the phone."
"And what the hell was he doing inside my apartment?"
"I wondered that too," said Henderson, 'until he told me the place had been broken into. He called there to give you Voisin's message. And Flamen wants to see you - but he'll be waiting at his own apartment. I told him I was a friend and got off the line."
Beaurain had hoped for so much from his interview with Florin: above all, who had paid him to be absent from the reception desk at the vital moment. Or should the question be who had frightened him so much that he had risked his whole career? Terror, Goldschmidt had said vehemently, terror was one of the Syndicate's main weapons.
" How are you getting on with Litov?" he asked the Scot.
"He's boarded a flight for Scandinavia he bought a ticket to Helsinki. Max was right behind him and is now aboard the same flight - a Scandinavian Airlines plane flying to Stockholm via Copenhagen." Henderson nodded towards the wall-map. "It's marked there with the red line."
"So his final destination could be Copenhagen, Stockholm or Helsinki," Beaurain suggested.
"That's the way I see it," the Scot agreed. "Unless he's being clever and gets off at Kastrup or Arlanda and switches to another destination. If he does that, I have gunners at both airports to track him. And we always have Max Kellerman travelling in the same first-class cabin as him."
"Where are they now?"
Henderson checked the clock. "En route to Kastrup Airport, Copenhagen. Within half an hour of
landing."
"We'd better get over and see Willy Flamen." Beaurain stood up, uneasy about something. How the devil had they let Otto Berlin slip off the Ostend Express? Henderson swung round in his chair.
"Maybe I didn't make myself clear, sir. It is Commissioner Voisin who is anxious to see you. Asked particularly would you give him some idea of your arrival time."
"You made yourself quite clear. We're still going to call on Willy Flamen first. I'll contact you later to find out what's happening to Litov. Come on, Louise." Beaurain had reached the door when he turned and gave a final order. "One more thing, put all our people inside Brussels on a red alert immediately."
Louise waited until they were sitting in the Mercedes before she asked the question. The Belgian had a brooding look and had not yet signalled to the guard to open the gate.
"Jules, what was that about a red alert? That means everyone has to expect an emergency at any moment, doesn't it?"
"The request from Commissioner Voisin to go and see him immediately..." Beaurain signalled the guard, gunned the motor and drove out of the archway into heavy traffic. Louise noticed his eyes were everywhere: checking the mirror; glancing at both sidewalks; checking the mirror again. "Plus the fact that Voisin wants me to warn him in advance when I'm going to arrive. It fits in with that Zenith signal."
"But he's a Commissioner of Police! Jules, you aren't serious. You don't think Voisin is one of the Syndicate's men?" Her tone of voice expressed her incredulity. "You may not like the fat creep but you're letting your prejudices cloud your judgement. Hey, where are we going? You've missed the turning to Flamen's place."
"We're going to take a look at police headquarters. Flamen we visit later." He eased into the kerb and parked. "And I'd like us to switch places - you drive and I'll be the passenger. Be prepared to drive like hell."
Louise walked round the car and got in behind the wheel. Beaurain had no qualms about giving her the order to drive this way: Louise Hamilton had been a crack racing driver at Brands Hatch in England. Without a word he extracted his .38 Smith & Wesson from his shoulder holster and rested the weapon in his lap.
There wouldn't be much traffic at this hour around the police headquarters, which meant the 280E would be conspicuous to watchers. And Beaurain had no doubt that the Stockholm Syndicate would know the model and the number of his car. It was a crazy idea about Voisin: he hardly believed it possible himself. But he kept hearing Goldschmidt's voice. Trust no-one, Jules. There is treachery everywhere.
"If you're so suspicious," Louise said with a hint of sarcasm, 'you should have sent a team of gunners to check out police headquarters."
"You're probably right. But to
tell you the truth, that didn't occur to me until we'd left Jock."
"Well, here we are. We'll soon know now."
Oh my God! Louise's exceptional self-control prevented her swerving. For a moment she couldn't speak to warn Jules - then she saw he had grasped his revolver with one hand and with the other had lowered his window.
"Jules - on both sides - two cars ..."
"The one with a single man inside too?"
"Yes they called him Pietr. He was the policeman in the blue Renault. He tried to block me in when I was getting away,"
"Proceed as slowly as you're going now, as though we haven't seen anything. Be ready to
accelerate like a rocket when I say "go"."
"They'll have us in a crossfire if they see us."
"They've already seen us. Hold down the speed. They're waiting for the moment when they have us sandwiched."
"That couple in the car on the right the short bulky man's called André and he's a killer."
She continued cruising forward, her eyes whipping from side to side. Both cars were parked facing the oncoming Mercedes. Both could drive out and create a barrier she'd never pass. Was Jules really more tired than she had realised? The Fiat stationed on the right began to move from where it was parked outside the entrance to police headquarters.
As Louise had warned, they were going to be trapped in a crossfire. The cars had been waiting for them, had known that sooner or later Beaurain would arrive to keep his appointment with Commissioner Voisin!
"Go!"
Beaurain shouted the command and her reaction was a reflex, her foot ramming down hard on the accelerator which responded with instant action and power. The Fiat containing the two men was heading on a course which would take it across her bows, forcing her to stop, while they poured a hail of gunfire into it.
On his side Beaurain had already seen the thin man beside the driver lifting a sub-machine gun. Out of the corner of his eye he saw what he had foreseen -that the Renault was still parked at the kerb. No man can drive and aim a weapon accurately at the same time, and Pietr was aiming his silenced weapon through the open window.
Beaurain fired four times at the oncoming Fiat. The 280E was surging forward like a torpedo under Louise's expert control. Three of Beaurain's bullets hit the man with the sub-machine gun. Blood splashed the shattered glass of the Fiat's windscreen. The car began to swerve wildly as Beaurain fired again and hit the driver.
"Don't move your head!"
Beaurain turned to his left, laid his arm along the back of Louise's seat and fired two more shots. One hit the target. Blood spurted from Pietr's head and he slumped over his wheel. Beaurain saw it all in a blur as the 280E screamed past police headquarters where no-one had appeared despite the cannonade and the screech of tyres.
Louise's skilful manoeuvring took them past the moving Fiat and then they had left behind the carnage and Beaurain, looking back, saw no sign of pursuit. It was as though police headquarters had been stripped of patrol cars and personnel while the Syndicate killers tried to complete their job.
"You certainly handled that," Louise commented as she changed direction again in case of pursuit. "I wouldn't have known which car to tackle first."
"The Fiat - because it carried a sub-machine gun and it was moving. Now, head for Willy Flamen's apartment."
"Get out of Brussels, Jules: better still, out of Belgium. Both of you. Preferably tonight. The cold-blooded killing of Pierre Florin should be enough warning."
Willy Flamen stared over the rim of his cup at Beaurain and Louise as they drank the coffee and ate the sandwiches provided by his wife. The policeman was a man who spoke his mind and possessed great courage. Which made his advice all the more disturbing.
"You're telling us to run? That's not like you, Willy. Anyway it was agreed at Voisin's meeting that I should investigate the Syndicate." He smiled wrily. "The brief was to confirm its existence, for God's sake."
"Well recent events should have convinced you of that," Flamen commented, pausing to light his pipe. Beaurain recalled that he used it at moments of crisis. "And there is worse to come if you can believe that's possible."
"Do cheer us up," Louise joked.
He pointed his pipe-stem at her.
"Enjoy this, then. Jules let it be known he wanted to interview Florin, the sergeant who was on desk duty just before he took sick leave. As you know, Florin was found murdered at his apartment. When I made a search there, I found a notebook belonging to you, Jules - it had your name in the front. A small black notebook - easily dropped when someone is in a hurry." He sat back in his chair and went on puffing his pipe. Louise stared at him, the muscles of her jaw tight.
"And I believe my own apartment has been broken into and ransacked," Beaurain said quietly.
"That is so," Flamen agreed. "Ransacked to cover the stealing of the notebook later left in Florin's
apartment. Voisin wants me to hold you for questioning," he added casually.
"In what connection?" Beaurain asked tightly.
"In connection with the investigation of the murder of Pierre Florin - because you were going to question Florin and also on the evidence of your notebook being found there." Flamen produced a small black notebook from his pocket and pushed it across the table. "That is yours, I take it, Jules?"
"You know it is."
"By the way, Florin was shot in the back of the neck. One shot."
"The old Nazi method of execution."
"Of course!" He snapped his fingers.
"That's w hat it reminded me of. It could be the signature of the executioner - a German trained by the Nazis. By the way, have either of you visited Bruges recently?" Flamen enquired placidly. His pipe was smoking furiously and he was staring out of the window.
"Yes," Beaurain answered shortly. Today."
He kept his answers as brief as possible and avoided mentioning that Louise had accompanied him. Willy Flamen could be clever and devious.
"Why?"
"Because this morning a bar gee called Frans Darras and his wife, Rosa, were brutally murdered aboard their barge. The same technique was used both were shot in the back of the neck. One bullet apiece. Voisin has dived in head first, linked the three killings together because of the modus operandi and linked them all with you because of Florin. The fact that you were in Bruges today won't help when he hears."
Flamen broke off to answer the telephone. He listened and then asked a number of questions rapidly. The topic of the phone call was obvious. Flamen broke the connection, excused himself, and used the phone to despatch a team of investigators and forensic experts. Replacing the receiver, he gave a grunt and then looked at both of them with a grim smile.
"Where have you parked your Mercedes, Jules?"
"In a side street out of sight."
"Good." He stared at the ceiling. "There was a blood bath outside police headquarters not fifteen minutes ago. Voisin is going mad - as if that were news. Three men attacked a vehicle passing headquarters. All three are dead, and one was armed with a sub machine-gun. Some fool of a woman peering out after it was nearly over says that four men who were attacked were travelling in a Mercedes. She didn't specify a 280E." He waited for comment.
"So?" asked Beaurain.
"I'm glad to see you both looking so well." His manner became very serious as he leaned forward over the table. "More than ever I think you should leave Belgium tonight. Surely you can continue your investigation from a safer country."
" Name one," said Beaurain. "But thanks, Willy." He left it at that.
"One thing which puzzles me is how the Syndicate operates its communications - because you can bet your pension it will have a system and a good one. Is anyone working on that?"
Flamen stood up and brought a map of Belgium from a side-cabinet which he spread out over his desk. "There has been an unusual amount of illegal radio traffic during the past six months."
"In these ringed areas?" Beaurain asked, studying the map.
&
nbsp; "Yes. A colleague of mine compiled this and I borrowed it - I thought it might interest you. I can't make head or tail of the thing."
"But you think it has some significance?" Louise enquired.
"That's what I'm not sure about," Flamen admitted. "We have a fleet of radio-detector vans scattered throughout Belgium. Some are under the control of counter-espionage."
"And these ringed areas show the areas of the most intense activity during the past six months?" Louise asked. While she and Flamen were talking Beaurain was staring at the map with a scowl of
concentration.
"That's right," Flamen agreed. "The trouble is the Syndicate's transmitters keep moving while
transmitting. That increases the difficulty of location enormously. They must have the transmitters inside tradesmen's vans - something innocent-looking which wouldn't look out of place travelling along a highway."
"How do you know these are Syndicate transmissions? Has someone broken the code?" Beaurain asked.
Flamen hesitated. "That's top secret information from another department. Frankly, until
today I wasn't sure myself, and no-one else is, so this is between the three of us. One of our men did crack one code. Two days later he was killed. Shot in the back of the neck. One bullet."
"Order Captain Buckminster to take Firestorm into the Kattegat and then proceed full steam ahead until he's anchored off Elsinore."
Immediately after their meeting with Chief Inspector Willy Flamen, Beaurain and Louise had driven back to Henderson's control headquarters. On arriving Beaurain had begun to issue a stream of instructions to Henderson. Within minutes the atmosphere inside the room - which had been tense before they returned - became electric. At one stage Henderson swung briefly in his swivel chair to ask a question.
"All this means, sir, that Telescope is temporarily evacuating Belgium including the Château Wardin? Is it really essential to go that far?"
"If we are to fool the Stockholm Syndicate we have to put into action what you have rehearsed time and again, Jock. We withdraw so swiftly we're gone before they suspect what's happening."