Deadlock

He waited as Van Gorp took another phone call. Another conversation in Dutch. Van Gorp swore as he put down the receiver.

'The news is really leaking out. That Reuter report started it of course. Now newspaper reporters, TV crews are trying to slip through the cordons for a view of the tower. Some are bound to get through. And who the hell is this?' He picked up the phone again, listened, handed it to Tweed.

'It's for you. Newman on the line…'

Tweed? This is an open connection. I'm talking from a cafe near a certain bank…' Tweed thought Newman sounded strained, tired. Lack of sleep. '… and we're waiting for the banker to leave for the airport. He's being held at gunpoint – if you know what I mean.'

'I do. The expected consignment is on the move. Give me that number so I can call you. Any plan?'

'When the moment comes Butler and I will arrive at the airport first. Ahead of you-know-who. I'll make it up as I go on from there.'

'Bob, when you reach that airport, get Benoit to call me – ask him to keep an open line. I need to know what's going on there as well as here.'

'Will do. Cheers

Van Gorp put down his coffee cup. 'What's the reason for that? Needing data from both ends?'

'Because Klein will be doing the same thing – synchronizing his operation at Findel with what he does here. We have to outwit him – and it may all hinge on seconds.'

The phone rang again. Van Gorp said yes and no several times, put down the receiver, picked it up almost immediately as it rang a second time. He spoke in Dutch, then ended the call.

'First was from Frankfurt. They're loading the bullion aboard the Hercules transport. Brand can check the consignment when it reaches Findel – but the pilot has instructions not to fly on to any destination until Klein surrenders his control box.'

'That arrangement will test my powers of negotiation,' Tweed said thoughtfully with a faraway look.

'Better you than me. The other call was local. My radio interception people are picking up a lot of strange traffic in a language they don't recognize. I can call them back and they can play you part of a tape.'

'Do that. Quickly please. I don't like the sound of that development.'

'Klein is speeding up his operation,' said Paula.

'Trying to catch us on the wrong foot,' agreed Tweed.

He took the phone Van Gorp handed him and listened carefully as a tape was played back. He couldn't understand one word. He handed the phone back.

'I know what it is. Klein is being clever again. He has a large number of Luxembourgers – and that language, so-called, is their patois. Letzeburgesch. Mix of French and German. Understood by neither race. You need a Luxembourger to tell you what is being said. Do you know of one living in Holland?'

'Not off hand. I'll try to locate one, get him to listen to the tapes. I've been thinking about those Sikorskys out at the airport. Something about them bothers me. I'm wondering whether to put guards on them.'

'Don't,' Tweed said quickly. 'Leave them alone. I have my reasons.' He checked his watch. 'And Klein is late calling for me. Bad tactics for me to make the first move. Think I'll go up on the roof, see what's happening.'

'Can I come?' Paula asked.

'Good idea. Give you a breath of fresh air.'

It was drizzling when they emerged on to the roof, a fine sea-like spray. Van Gorp had told Tweed it hadn't rained for weeks. Crouched at the wall, he peered through his binoculars at the huge barges moored close to Euromast in Parkhaven. Four abreast, there were twelve of them altogether, berthed stem to stern.

The weather change had transformed the whole atmosphere. The roads gleamed under street lamps. The decks of the barges had a fine sheen of moisture. Drizzle settled on the oily surface of the Maas.

At that moment Tweed wondered, although he had no way of knowing the weather change would be the key factor when the climax came.

52

'They have given in to our show of force,' Klein said as he paced round the lobby leading to the platform. 'The gold is being loaded aboard the transport plane.'

He seemed as fresh as ever, Marler observed. Still in iron self-control. No excitement showing in his voice which was as cold as ever.

'How can you be certain?' Marler enquired.

'That phone call I took. It was from a man I have watching at Frankfurt Airport. And, of course, the call came via Legaud's van. Legaud reports an increase in radio traffic on the police band. But all routine calls. A prowler seen at such-and-such a street corner, etc.'

'Any conditions before they release the gold?' Marler persisted.

Klein smiled icily. 'Brand, accompanied by my armed guard, is to check the bullion. When he reports it is correct I am supposed to surrender this control box.'

'But you won't?'

'What they don't know is that hidden aboard that transport plane at Frankfurt I have my own armed air crew. Always have an ace up your sleeve, Marler. Now, we will prepare our new shock for Tweed.' He called out to two masked men. 'You know what you have to do with her. Do it!'

The two men seized Lara who still lay on the couch, bound with ropes. Lifting her upright, they propelled her towards the platform. They had a hard time; she kept fighting. Kicking with her tied ankles she caught one a blow on the shin. ' Merde! ' he grunted and gripped her tighter. They lifted her off her feet, she bent her knees, swung back as though on a swing, supported by her captors, swung forward and almost hammered the other man in the groin.

'You've used me, you lousy swine!' she screamed at Klein.

'If you simply relax it will be much easier for you.'

'What the hell are you going to do with me, you bastard?'

'Provide Mr Tweed with a fresh demonstration that we never let up. It's called keeping on the pressure.' His voice changed. He snapped out the order to the two men. 'Get on with it. Take her on to the platform.'

In Luxembourg City Benoit hurried over to the cafe opened up by the proprietor who slept over the premises. Policemen came and went, drinking coffee, eating sandwiches. He found Newman and Butler hunched over more black coffee, sitting at a window table where they could watch what was going on.

'A phone message from Tweed. The bullion is being loaded on to the plane at Frankfurt. It is only a short flight here.'

'Any sign of activity at the Banque?' Newman enquired.

'Nothing at all. Except someone we couldn't see closed the curtains over his office window. You may have to leave soon now.'

'I've checked the Lamborghini,' Newman replied. 'Best you come with me. Butler can go ahead on his motor-bike. I certainly don't want him behind us.'

'That's slander – or is it libel,' Butler commented amiably. 'I'm very good on one of those machines. '

'But I do wish you'd drive with the wheels on the ground.'

Benoit left them to check the latest position with the inspector. Newman drank more coffee. Anything to keep him awake. His eyelids were heavy as lead.

'If it is a fake,' Butler remarked, 'this so-called kidnapping of Brand, why is he throwing away all he has? One of the top bankers. A luxurious estate on the Meuse. A mansion in Brussels. He's got it all.'

'Except Benoit says he hasn't. He spends money like confetti. Apparently the Brussels Fraud Squad has been waiting for an excuse to move in. Friend Brand has been paying interest out of shrinking capital. Even to his madcap wife in New York. And she could arrive back at any time. Brand's trouble is she can read a balance sheet. Her father taught her. If Benoit should be right Brand is on the verge of bankruptcy. So, he needs a safe country, and a slice of that Frankfurt bullion.'