`Let me see…'
He never finished his sentence. Butler's limp right arm suddenly came alive. There was a blur of movement inside his unzipped windcheater and Johnny stared into the muzzle of a 7.65mm automatic. Butler pocketed the banknotes.
`You get the money if you do exactly what I say. Or you get your head blown off. First job, get back behind the wheel of your Saab. I'll sit beside you…'
Under Butler's brusque instructions Johnny drove his Saab off the road deep inside a copse of evergreen trees. He then got out and, with Butler close behind, walked back to the Volvo.
`Same act,' Butler snapped. 'Get behind the wheel and follow my instructions. If we meet a patrol car don't play clever. This gun will be rammed into your guts..
He directed Johnny to drive towards Tinglev, then take a quiet road which practically bypassed the town. They came to the track Butler had led Marler up earlier.
`Turn off here. Drive up that track. Someone we have to pick up.'
The Volvo bumped over the track and Butler told Johnny to drive it behind the copse of trees he'd seen on his first visit. Obeying Butler, Johnny switched off the engine, climbed out of the car. Butler ran round the front, still aiming the automatic. They stood close to the verge of the marsh. Butler had his automatic jabbed into his prisoner's back.
`I need to know where you took a passenger you brought in from Germany.' He thrust the photo of Dr Hyde in front of Johnny's face. 'Where did you take him?'
`I've never seen this man before.'
`He paid you that much to keep your trap shut? Here is your money ..
As Johnny turned round Butler slammed a haymaker into his jaw. The Dane collapsed and Butler got busy. He spread the body face down, fetched the rope already looped into a wide noose from the rear of the Volvo. It took him no time at all to slip the noose over the outspread arms and down the body to the waist. At this point Butler tightened the slip-knot. He had been careful not to hit Johnny too hard, using only half his strength. In a few minutes the prone figure began to stir.
Dazed, he looked up at Butler. Waiting a few more minutes, Butler asked his question again.
`Where did you take that passenger to?'
`I've never seen him…'
`Oh dear.' Butler sounded regretful. 'You want it the hard way. Because you'll end up dead if you don't talk.'
Tucking a rolled end of the rope inside his belt, Butler stooped, lifted Johnny bodily, carried him to the edge of the marsh and threw him forward. The Dane landed in a pool of filthy water with a splash. His legs went down first, sucked under into the ooze. He struggled futilely, waving his arms, calling out for help.
Butler took the roll of rope from his belt, pulled it tight and for a moment Johnny's downward progress into the marsh was arrested. Then Butler played out more rope. The waist sank under the gurgling slime. It crept up his chest. He screamed for mercy. Butler paid out more rope and the mud rose to Johnny's shoulders. His arms were trapped under the marsh. Only his neck, his terrified face were visible.
At Kastrup Airport in a remote part of the complex Tweed, Newman and Cardon boarded the small Piper Archer plane. They first stepped on to the wing and then entered through a door like that of a car.
The interior reminded Tweed of a car. There was the pilot's seat with another alongside, which Tweed sat in. Behind were two more seats occupied by Newman and Cardon. They sat with their cases in their laps. Tweed glanced over his shoulder at Newman.
`This plane, Bob, has only one propeller,' he teased.
`If we have to fly to Jutland on a wing and a prayer that's OK by me,' Newman snapped. 'Just so long as we get there fast.'
`Agreed,' said Tweed.
When they had strapped themselves into their seats the pilot supplied by Nielsen started up the engine. It was icy cold and fortunately they all wore heavy overcoats. The sky was clear as the plane moved forward, left the ground, climbed.
We fly to Esbjerg at a maximum altitude of three thousand feet,' the pilot told Tweed. 'The met forecast is for this weather all the way so you'll have a unique view of Denmark.'
`What about tonight?' Tweed enquired.
`A major weather change – especially in Jutland. Heavy fog along the whole coast. You're not thinking of enjoying a sailing trip, I hope?'
`I never enjoy a sailing trip,' said Tweed with vehemence.
They flew over the large island of Sjaelland, which Copenhagen sits on. The pilot had been right, Tweed thought, as he gazed down. From that height he could even see people walking, tiny figures. The landscape was something most tourists never saw. Beautiful rolling grassy hill slopes, some of them wooded. The isolated lake which gleamed like a sapphire. Cosy-looking single- storey homes tucked away amid trees at the end of twisting drives. It was like passing over paradise.
`We're flying due west?' Tweed checked with the pilot.
`Not quite, at the moment. We've been routed more north-west for the moment. We're passing over the Farum area down there. Soon we turn south and then due west.'
They flew over a stretch of sparkling sea which the pilot said was the Store Belt. Ships cruising north and south were crystal clear with their pure white wakes. They crossed another large island, Funen, then a brief stretch of narrow sea and land reappeared. The pilot said they were now over Jutland.
`Thank God!' said Newman. 'As soon as we arrive I'm hiring a car from Avis. They have an outfit in Esbjerg. Then I'm driving immediately south to contact Marler. I want to know if he's had any success.'
`I agree,' Tweed replied. 'You have the phone number of my hotel, Also Anton Norlin's number. I insist you keep me up to date. That's a direct order.'
Newman then realized Tweed was as worried about Paula as he was. Studying the landscape had been a way of distracting his mind from this extreme anxiety. But would they be able to find Paula in time?
Marler was searching for Butler. He drove through Tinglev and headed for the track where he had last seen him. As he turned on to the track and drove past the copse of trees an extraordinary sight opened up. He parked, jumped out of his car.
Butler was hauling a thin, scrawny man attached to a rope out of the marshes. The apparition was coated with slime up to his throat. Giving one mighty heave, Butler hauled the man on to firm ground, dropped the rope, turned to Marler.
`I made him talk. He nearly went right under, the bloody fool.' knows where she is?' Marler asked quickly.
`No, but he's told us where he dropped Dr Hyde, haven't you, Johnny?' he asked, addressing the sorry figure lying on the ground.
`Yes… I told you… for God's sake…'
Tor God's sake get out of those clothes,' Butler retorted. 'I have a new outfit you can put on. Too large, but it's clean.'
Butler ran to the Volvo, returned with a pair of denims, a flannel shirt, and a windcheater. He threw them down next to Clausen together with a box of paper tissues. The Dane clambered to his feet, stared at his muddy hands.
`Clean them up as fast as you can, get into those fresh clothes. You've got two minutes.'
Butler waved the Walther towards him. Clausen, shivering in the cold wind, performed a quick-change act. Butler gathered up the discarded clothes, rolled them into a bundle and threw them into the marsh. He took out a map. `Now, show my friend where you dropped Dr Hyde.'
`Here.' Clausen pointed with a grubby finger. Butler marked the spot with a cross. 'In the middle of nowhere,' he continued. 'A green Renault was parked further up the road. My passenger stood in the wind until I'd almost driven out of sight back towards Tonder. Then, in the rear-view mirror, I saw him walking to the Renault, which had another man behind the wheel.'
`You're doing well, Johnny,' Butler said ironically while Clausen used tissues to wipe mud off his neck. `But you took your time.'