“Yes,” I said quietly. “I am holding a gun on you. And I intend to use it if you get up from that chair.”
Pfaff swallowed and studied my face. I could see his mind working, trying to figure out who I was and trying to assess my purpose. “You would not dare shoot a gun in here,” he said.
“I can be through the back entrance within fifteen seconds of your hitting the floor.” I hoped he would accept the bluff. “And I have friends waiting outside. Do you want to try me?”
The anger in his face was gone now; fear had taken control of it. He was not a brave man — which was good for me.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“Information.”
He laughed nervously. “The Tourist Bureau is down the street.”
I sighed. “Be coy with me, and I’ll blow your head off.”
His grin faded. “What kind of information do you want?”
“I think we’d better discuss it in private,” I said. I reached into my jacket pocket with my free hand and threw a wad of Swiss francs to pay for our orders on the table. “The meal is on me,” I said with a small smile. “Now, I want you to get up and walk very slowly to the front entrance. I’ll be right behind you, and this gun will be aimed at your back. When we get on the street, I’ll give you further instructions.”
“Do you think you can get away with this stupid thing?” he demanded.
“You’d better hope I do.”
I stuck Wilhelmina into my pocket, and we went outside. I walked him to the Mercedes and told him to get into the driver’s seat. I got in beside him, flipped him the keys, and told him to start driving toward the edge of town.
Pfaff was getting very frightened now. But he drove the car into the green hills as I had ordered. I directed him onto a dirt road that ran off to the right into some trees and ordered him to stop when we were out of sight of the main road. When the motor was off, I turned and leveled the Luger at his head.
“You are committing suicide with this farce,” he said loudly.
“Because your Topcon hoods will get me?”
His lips worked together. That was the first time I had mentioned the organization. “That is correct,” he said flatly.
“We’ll see, but in the meantime, you’re going to cooperate with me, aren’t you?”
“What do you want to know?”
“I want to know who is boarding the Orient Express tomorrow morning.”
“Many people.”
“I know already that Topcon’s chief is going to carry the stolen device on the train personally,” I said. “But you can tell me who he is, and give me a description of him.”
“You must be insane.” He looked incredulous.
I was not in the mood for insults. I swung the Luger down across the side of his face. He grunted and fell away from the blow as blood ran down his cheek. His breath became shallow as he grabbed at the wound.
“I don’t want any more talk like that,” I growled at him. “I want answers to the questions I ask you. And you’d better start talking fast.”
“All right,” he finally agreed. “May I smoke a cigarette?”
I hesitated. “Go ahead.” I watched closely as he took one out and lighted it. He opened the ashtray on the dash and put the match in it.
“Will you guarantee my safety if I cooperate with you?” he asked, his hand still at the ashtray.
“That’s right.”
“Then I’ll give you the name you want. It is...”
But Pfaff had no intention of telling me anything. His hand had released the catch on the ashtray and pulled it free of the dashboard. He flung the load of ashes into my face.
While my eyes were full of ashes, he hit my right arm and knocked it violently aside. He had a lot of strength for a small man. Then the car door was open, and Pfaff was out and running.
I swore aloud as I cleared my burning eyes. I still held the Luger. I stumbled out of the car. By now my eyes were clear enough to see Pfaff running headlong toward the main road.
“Stop!” I yelled, but he kept moving. I aimed a shot at his legs. The Luger roared, and the bullet kicked up at Pfaff’s feet. I had missed.
Pfaff turned and ducked into the trees to the left of the dirt road. I ran after him.
I had removed Pfaff’s shoulder gun when he had gotten into the Mercedes, so I figured I had an advantage, but I was wrong. As I moved into a small clearing, a shot rang out from Pfaff’s direction and whistled past my ear. He must have had a small gun hidden on him somewhere.
As I ducked behind a thick pine tree, I heard Pfaff moving just a few feet ahead. I started out more cautiously. I slipped the Luger into its holster, for we were very near the main road, and I did not want to add my gunfire to the noise. Besides, I wanted Pfaff alive.
After another twenty yards, just when I thought I might have lost him, Pfaff broke cover not far from me and started running off across a clearing. I decided to be less cautious. I sprinted after him, hoping he wouldn’t hear me until it was too late. As I got to within twenty feet of him, he turned and saw me. He had just raised the small automatic to aim when I hit him in a diving tackle around the waist.
The gun went off twice, missing me both times as we plummeted to the ground. We rolled around a couple of times. Then I got hold of his gun hand, and we both struggled to our feet. I rammed a fist into Pfaff’s face and twisted at the gun arm. The automatic fell from his grasp.
But Pfaff was not finished. He raised his knee savagely into my groin. While I was recovering from the blow, he broke loose, turned, and ran again.
I fought the pain in my gut and started after him. We slashed through underbrush and tree branches. I gained on him every second. Then I was hurtling myself at him again. We both went down, my hands grabbing at him and his fists pummeling my face and head. We crashed into a dead tree, which crumbled under our impact. I had a good hold on the man now, but he was still flailing with his hands. Then I smashed a fist into his face, and he fell back to the ground.
“Now, damn you, tell me the name,” I demanded breathlessly.
Pfaff reached into a pocket. I wondered what weapon he would come up with this time. I moved my forearm and let the stiletto drop into my palm as Pfaff’s hand came out of his pocket and went to his mouth.
It took me a split-second to realize what was happening. Pfaff, knowing he was a goner, had popped a cyanide capsule into his mouth. He was biting down on it.
I threw the stiletto to the ground and dropped to my knees beside him. I grabbed at his jaw and tried to pry it open, but my attempt was unsuccessful.
Then it was over. Pfaff’s eyes widened, and I felt his body go rigid in my grasp. I let go of his jaw, and it fell open. There was an unpleasant odor Then I saw the tiny rivulet of blood at the corner of his mouth and the broken glass on his tongue. Slowly, his face was turning a darker color.
Klaus Pfaff was dead.
Four
The diesel engine of the Orient Express slid almost silently into the Lausanne station as the sun was just coming up beyond a distant hill. There were few people waiting on the platform. I watched as the train rumbled to a stop and read the lettering on the side of the cars: PARIS LAUSANNE MILANO TRIESTE BELGRADE SOFIA ISTANBUL. They were exotic names, and they revived memories of many of my past assignments.
The train had stopped, and a few passengers were disembarking. By now a larger crowd had gathered on the platform to board. I scanned the faces casually. One of them might be the man with the monitor, unless Klaus Pfaff’s disappearance had made Topcon think twice about moving the device on this train. But I did not think so. Apparently, plans had already been made to meet and do business with the KGB on this train. Those plans could not be changed so easily.
After another look at the faces around me, I picked up my luggage and started to board the train. Then I heard the voice behind me.