by Colin Forbes
After driving through a district of wealthy suburbs they came out onto the coast road. On her right the dark waters of the Øresund rippled placidly by the light of the moon. There were the coloured navigation lights of an occasional vessel passing up or down the Sound.
The van and the shadowing Citroën were travelling north. Louise knew that with the sea on her right there was only one route they could be taking - and that route took them to Elsinore! Could the name on the van be a piece of double bluff? Or was Dr. Benny Horn running an apparently legitimate business which had offices in Copenhagen and Elsinore? Jules had repeatedly said idle speculation was a waste of time.
My God! Jules - he would be doing his nut back at the Royal Hotel! She hadn't managed to inform him where she was or what she was doing. It couldn't be helped; the van ahead was almost the only link Telescope had left with the Stockholm Syndicate.
"Have it out with Jules later," she told herself. "And just hope to God following this van turns out to be worthwhile. Then he can't say one damned thing,"
It was one o'clock in the morning when the phone rang in Beaurain's bedroom. Kellerman had fallen asleep in a chair instead of returning to his own room. Beaurain had just checked the empty coffee pot with an expression of disgust. He grabbed for the receiver, almost knocking the instrument on the floor in his haste. It was Louise.
"I'm going to talk fa st, Jules," he understood her meaning: at night, hotel operators, bored and idle, had been known to listen in on calls. "I'm in Elsinore you've got that?"
"Yes," he said tersely.
"The girl at the reception counter took me to the place where Max was a few hours ago. On Nyhavn."
"Understood."
"She drove a man in a van with the word Helsingør on the side - nothing else, just the name - to Elsinore. He's hugging a suitcase like a gold-brick. Just south of the town they have stopped at a house which backs onto the rail track. There are shunting yards and loaded freight cars. Two have a large consignment of what looks like compressed paper - packing materials."
"Got you."
She was gabbling on, throwing all sorts of details at him irrespective of whether they seemed significant to her. He understood what she was doing exactly; they had used the same technique before.
"My position is a bit exposed. I'm actually inside Elsinore and no-one's about at this hour. The only hotel I've seen is closed."
Position exposed . She was signalling danger to him. Beaurain recalled the chairman of the Banque du Nord who had warned him about the Zenith signal. He told her to hold the line for a second. Checking a map of Denmark, he picked up the receiver.
"Still there? Can you drive north out of the place a few miles?"
"Yes, I'd drive back to Copenhagen but I'm short of petrol."
He gave her the name of a tiny place on the coast, instructed her how to get there by road. "You drive down to the beach, Louise, and wait there with your headlights pointed out to sea. At fifteen minute intervals precisely commencing on the hour you flash your lights six times at five second intervals. Henderson will be coming to collect you himself."
"From the sea?"
"From Firestorm in a small motor-boat. Now, have you got it?"
"I'm leaving at once."
She broke the connection. No prolonged conversation, no asking of a dozen questions which flooded into her tired mind. Just obey orders. And something in Jules' tone had said, get the hell out of there fast. Inside his bedroom, high up in the Royal Hotel, Beaurain replaced the receiver and looked at Kellerman who still sat upright in his chair.
"She's followed two people to Elsinore one is the girl, Black Helmet, the other could be Benny Horn -who, incidentally, was carrying a suitcase. I'm guessing because there was no time to ask her for descriptions. I think she's in danger. I just hope Henderson reaches her in time."
He put in another call to the address near Brussels Midi station from where, earlier, Henderson had directed the watching operation on Serge Litov. As he had anticipated, it was Monique who answered the phone. She had taken over control of the command centre in Brussels. In as few words as possible he told her the signal to be sent to Jock Henderson aboard Firestorm, now somewhere just north of Elsinore. He replaced the receiver again and yawned loudly.
Time you caught up on your sleep," Kellerman suggested. "You take my room and I'll wait here for Monique to phone back."
"Thanks, but I can't sleep until I know Louise is safe aboard Firestorm. You go get some sleep."
"You think I'll sleep until I know she's safe?" the German demanded.
Beaurain grunted tiredly and grinned. Then he sighed.
"It's just that I'm not sure how far the tentacles of this octopus, the Stockholm Syndicate, spread. De Graer shook me: they've threatened his niece now so how far can we really trust him? How far can we trust anyone? That's why our first call in the morning will be on an old friend of mine, Superintendent Bodel Marker of Danish police Intelligence. He runs his outfit from police headquarters. That's only ten minutes away. He's dependable."
"Of course, they do know we're here - I'm sure that girl spotted your name in the hotel register."
"So, we look out for two men - one dressed like an American, the other carrying a brief-case, the brief-case containing the killer's gun."
*
Inside the house on the outskirts of Elsinore, Dr. Benny Horn sat polishing his glasses as he watched Sonia Karnell making up her face. The room was smartly furnished with modern pieces, the walls freshly painted in white; the heavy drapes masking the windows were pulled closed.
"Do you have to keep fiddling with those glasses?" Karnell asked irritably. "What about that girl in the Citroën?"
"I'm thinking about her," Horn replied mildly. "Carl is watching her, and since he hasn't returned yet she must still be inside that phone booth."
"But isn't it madness?" Karnell became more vehement the more she saw how calm Horn was. "She is phoning the Telescope people to tell them where we are."
"I sincerely hope so. My whole plan for destroying them is based on the knowledge that they followed Serge Litov to Copenhagen. You located our primary target, Beaurain, who will be destroyed when he leaves the Royal Hotel. Litov discovered the main Telescope base in England near Guildford - and we have people already searching the area. Now the girl may lead us to the remainder of Telescope's force on the European mainland."
He broke off as a lean-faced man dressed inconspicuously in dark blue came silently into the room. "Developments, Carl?"
"The girl finished phoning. She's on her way back to the car."
Horn turned to Sonia Karnell. "So now you follow her. And use the Porsche parked at the back she will not recognise it. Carl has placed the explosive device in a box in the boot."
"Why not kill her here?" Karnell snuggled coaxingly against his velvet jacket.
"Because we don't want blood all over the place here. It is our respectable house. I've been known here for many years."
"That's a laugh," she said quickly in French, the language they invariably used together, although it was neither's mother tongue. He pushed her away roughly. The eyes behind the rimless lens had lost their placidity, were cold and darkly intense. Eyes which had frightened countless men in their time.
"You will not joke about such things. You will not argue when I give you an order." She struggled into her duffel jacket, shaken by his reaction.
"You will follow her because she may well lead you to another Telescope base in Denmark. Find out all you can, then use the device. Return here as soon as you can. There is much to do tomorrow. Understood?"
"Of course."
"Good luck. Be quick you must not lose her."
Unlocking the car, Louise Hamilton glanced round in the darkness, listened for five minutes, which is too long for anyone to keep perfectly quiet. Her next precaution was to take her small torch from her shoulder-bag and shine it on the hood. The hardly visible match was where she had left it; no-one had rais
ed the bonnet in her absence.
As she started the engine and drove slowly out of Elsinore she had the route map of Denmark open on the seat beside her. It took her two minutes to realise she was being followed. She was not surprised. Never underestimate the enemy - one of Jock Henderson's favourite maxims. Louise Hamilton had assumed only a short time after leaving Copenhagen that the couple must suspect that her car was a tail.
To escape any risk of detection she could have hung well back and almost certainly lost the van. The other option was to subordinate every other consideration - including personal safety - to making sure she did not lose the van. She had chosen the second option, and must have been spotted within ten minutes of leaving Copenhagen.
Now the roles were reversed. Heading north from Elsinore towards the remote rendezvous on the shoreline with Henderson, Louise was aware of the Porsche following at a discreet distance but not so discreet that there was any danger of the sports car losing her.
Karnell concentrated on the red lights ahead, flicking her eyes away from them at intervals to maintain night vision. The Citroën puzzled her - because of the direction it was taking. The girl behind the wheel then disconcerted her more severely because of a sudden change in her way of driving. The car accelerated and disappeared round a bend in the road. Karnell pressed her foot down, tore round the corner and then jammed on her brakes.
"You stupid little cunning tart."
The contradictions of her insult didn't bother the Swedish girl. Coming round the bend she had found the red lights immediately ahead, the Citroën cruising very slowly like someone looking for a turning.
It wasn't that at all, and Karnell knew it. The girl had speeded up and then braked as soon as she was out of sight beyond the bend. Just far enough from the bend to ensure that the Porsche wouldn't ram her - although it might have skidded off the road.
"Bitch! Bitch! Bitch!" Karnell snarled.
The Citroën was picking up speed again. Karnell glanced at the device on the seat beside her, a device which was protected with foam-rubber inside a cardboard box bearing the name of a well-known Copenhagen florist. Much as she disliked handling explosive, Karnell was beginning to look forward to attaching some extra equipment to the car ahead.
She kept the speed of the Porsche down as the Citroën vanished round another bend at speed. Sure enough, rounding the bend herself she saw the car was only a short distance ahead. Once again the driver had jammed on the brakes as soon as the Citroën was out of sight.
"You caught me once. Twice never, you whore," Karnell said triumphantly.
It happened about two kilometres after these two incidents. It happened without warning. Karnell saw the red lights suddenly leap away and vanish round a fresh bend in the road. It was again impossible for Karnell to see beyond the bend, which was lined with trees and undergrowth. She reduced speed and approached with great caution. Crawling round the bend she gazed stupefied ahead and in her state of shock pulled into the side of the road.
The road ahead was deserted. No red lights. No traffic at all. The Citroën had vanished into thin air.
Chapter Ten
Henderson himself was in command of the dinghy crossing the calm sea under the moonlight to the remote beach where Firestorm had seen the flash of Louise Hamilton's headlights from the Citroën. Two other men were aboard and all three were armed with sub-machine guns and hand grenades.
Louise's manoeuvre for losing the Porsche seemed to have worked - for a time. That depended on the determination and ingenuity of the other driver. Everything had hinged on conditioning the Porsche's driver to approaching bends with great caution and at low speed. On the third occasion Louise had accelerated as she came up to the bend, swung round the curve, saw the road immediately ahead clear to the next bend and had rammed her foot through the floor. As she roared through the dark she counted the right-hand turnings which were little more than tracks.
Approaching the third, she checked again in her mirror, saw no sign of headlights coming up behind her, slowed and veered sharply off the highway down a tree-lined track which crunched under her wheels. She kept up the maximum possible speed until she had turned a sharp bend in the track, out of sight of the highway. Now she only hoped to God she had chosen the track which led to the remote beach and the sea where Firestorm was waiting for her. Five minutes later, standing by the Citroën and watching the incoming outboard, she knew she had chosen well.
Stealthy footsteps in the night - behind her and coming down the track. Above the mutter of the outboard Louise was sure she had heard the hard crunch of slow-moving footsteps, the steps of someone who is careful where they place their feet - but is forced by the thick undergrowth on both sides of the track to make their way along the gravel.
She looked out to sea again and saw the outboard already cutting its motor. Henderson climbed out over the side. Another man disembarked, took hold of the side of the craft and held it in the shallows ready for swift departure. Louise moved along the water's edge towards the Scot who ran to meet her, crouched low and grasping a sub-machine gun in both hands.
"Anything wrong?" were his first words. As he spoke his eyes were scanning the woods and the entrance to the track.
"I thought I heard footsteps - I must be jittery."
"Anyone follow you from Elsinore?"
"One person - in a Porsche."
"Get into the outboard. Tell Adams to start it up."
Stealthy footsteps. Henderson distinctly heard them before the outboard flared into power. The crunch of footsteps on gravel as someone came closer to the parked Citroën. He ran back, keeping a low profile, giving the order as he scrambled aboard in his half-length rubber boots.
"Masks on. Assume we're observed."
Louise looked back briefly to the hired Citroën which looked sad and abandoned on the lonely beach. But she would be returning soon: to pick up that car and drive back to Elsinore.
Sonia Karnell was irked by the crunching sound of the gravel as she moved forward with her gun held out before her. She could normally move as silently as a cat - but confined to the gravel track she made a noise.
But the fact that the track had been made up of pebbles had been of enormous help. When she had lost the girl in the Citroën, Sonia Karnell's stupefaction had been quickly overtaken by the realisation she had been tricked.
There was a series of turnings off to the right - towards the nearby sea. The problem had been to locate which track the bitch had used. Karnell was convinced she had not driven much further along the highway - since she could see too far for the Citroën to have vanished to the north. No, it had been swallowed up by one of the tracks cut through the woods to the sea. The only question: which track?
Crawling along, losing valuable time, but knowing she had to proceed in a systematic manner, the Swedish girl stopped at the entrance to each track, got out of the car and examined it with her torch. At the third track she found skid marks where a car had turned sharply off the highway. She followed her torch beam only a few yards checking the very clear indentations of a car's tyres. When she returned to the Porsche she even saw stones and dirt scattered over the highway.
She drove the Porsche down the track far enough to conceal it from the highway. The last thing she needed at this stage was a Danish patrol-car - and the discovery of the bomb, which would be rather difficult to explain. Then she crunched her way cautiously down towards the beach, her Walther at the ready.
"Oh, I should have bloody known!"
Through the gap in the trees at the end of the track she saw what was responsible for the sudden burst of engine sound - an outboard rapidly growing smaller as it headed for the tip of a headland to the north. Whipping a pair of night glasses from her shoulder-bag, she focused them with expert fingers.
"You clever Telescope bastards! Bastards!"
In the twin lenses the four people crouched in the dinghy came up clearly, but they were all wearing Balaclava helmets which concealed their features. Even wit
h the field glasses, only the eyes showed through slits in the woollen helmets.
There was no vessel in sight they could be making for. What she did not know was that immediately after the outboard had been winched over the side in response to the flash of Louise's headlights, Captain Buckminster - on Henderson's orders - had withdrawn Firestorm out of sight behind the tip of the headland.
"Just in case Louise has been followed," Henderson had observed to the ex-naval captain, "I suggest you pull north behind the headland when we head for the shore."
Then you lack my support," Buckminster had objected.
"At this stage I think it may be more important to conceal from the Syndicate our main and most deadly weapon Firestorm."
And so Sonia Karnell was left swearing on the foreshore as the dinghy disappeared. She vented her fury by taking great care over her actions during the next few minutes.
She would have taken great care in any case: you do not fool about with bombs. The extra care she took was to plant the device underneath the Citroën without leaving any clue to its existence. Once the job was complete, she wriggled herself from under the car and shoved the torch back inside her pocket. She had activated all the systems and she walked round the vehicle before leaving it, to make sure there were no tell-tal e traces.
The bomb was controlled by a trembler. If the Citroën were driven at reasonable speed and had to pull up sharply for any reason: Bang! If the Citroën were taken up or down an incline at an angle exceeding twenty degrees, no matter how slowly: Bang! Before leaving the booby-trapped car she took one last look out to sea where Louise Hamilton had vanished on the outboard.
"Don't forget to come back for your car, darling. I just wish I could be here."
On the sidewalk outside the Royal Hotel two men stood studying a street map of Copenhagen. It was 8.30, a glorious morning on the following day, the sun shining brilliantly out of a clear blue sky with a salty breeze in the air.
