‘It’s enough. Come on, let’s take a look at those stats.’
Neither of them saw Leitzig through the circular glass window in the swing door further up the corridor. He timed his movements perfectly, slipping into the computer suite just after they left and heading for the nearest computer. He fed in his own security code and chose an option from the sub-menu. It read EMPLOYEE TRANSACTIONS. He fed in Karen’s security code. It showed her transactions for the day, the last being seventeen pages of inventory statistics. Nothing else. He pressed ‘Enter’ until the main menu reappeared on the screen. He had been suspicious of Whitlock ever since he first met him. Whitlock knew far more about the nuclear industry than he had let on; that had been obvious from the questions he had asked during the tour. If he were a journalist why would he want the inventory figures for the last two years, especially seeing that he was supposed to be writing an article on the plant’s workforce? And why was Karen Schendel helping him? How much did she know? What made it even more suspicious was Whitlock’s appearance so soon after the last of the plutonium had been taken to the warehouse. It was all too much of a coincidence.
Leitzig knew he had to cover his own tracks. He would have to kill Whitlock.
A light snow had fallen over Central Switzerland during the night and Werner almost lost his footing as he climbed from the taxi at Brig Station. He paid the driver, then negotiated his way carefully across the road, paused at the entrance to wipe his feet, then crossed the concourse to the platform. People looked at him, certain they had seen his face before. They had, on numerous TV chat shows across Europe, but now, with his homburg tilted down over his forehead, none of them could put a name to the face.
The train pulled into the station a few minutes later, fifteen hours behind schedule. He boarded it and made his way down the corridor to his reserved compartment. The door of the adjoining compartment opened and Hendrique peered out at him.
‘Good morning,’ Werner said, then entered his own compartment where he tossed his homburg on to one of the couchettes, then unbuttoned his overcoat and laid it neatly on the overhead rack.
Hendrique stood in the doorway, his hands thrust into his trouser pockets. ‘Let’s skip the pleasantries and get a few things straight right from the start. I’m not particularly thrilled about having to take orders from someone who’s spent his life behind a desk but, as you’re probably aware, the old bastard’s got me by the short hairs and I haven’t got much choice. Having said that, my men and I will do everything in our power to ensure the cargo reaches its destination. It’s just another job to us.’
‘I’m not particularly thrilled about having to work with a drug pusher but circumstances are such that I too am left with little alternative. I suggest we put aside our personal feelings and work together as a team. We are supposed to be on the same side.’ Werner lit a cigarette then pushed past Hendrique and closed the compartment door behind them. ‘I need a coffee. Coming?’
Hendrique led the way down the corridor then paused as he entered the dining car. Inclining his head almost imperceptibly, he indicated Sabrina, who was seated at one of the tables.
‘That’s the woman who shot Rauff.’
Werner stared at her. ‘It can’t be!’
‘You know her?’
Werner nodded. ‘She used to be one of the most popular debutantes in Europe a few years ago. Are you sure it’s her?’
‘Kyle’s positive.’
Sabrina turned away from the window as the train eased out of the station and caught sight of Werner approaching her. ‘Stefan?’
Werner embraced her, kissing her lightly on both cheeks. ‘I can’t believe it. After all these years we meet up again. It’s truly a small world.’ He noticed her eyes flicker toward Hendrique.
‘I’m sorry, this is Joe Hemmings, my security adviser. Sabrina–’ he trailed off with an embarrassed smile. ‘Forgive me, I’m terrible with names.’
‘Cassidy,’ she said, holding Hendrique’s penetrating stare. ‘Sabrina Cassidy.’
‘How do you do?’ Hendrique said coldly, then turned to Werner. ‘I’m sure you have a lot to talk about so I’ll leave you to it. If you need me, sir, I’ll be in my compartment.’
‘He must be a bag of laughs,’ she said after Hendrique had gone.
‘He just takes his work very seriously. May I join you?’
‘Of course.’
Werner ordered himself a coffee from the steward, then sat down opposite her. ‘I still can’t get over it. It must be four or five years now since I last saw you.’
‘Five years,’ she replied after a quick mental calculation.
‘The last I heard you were making something of a name for yourself on the racing track.’
‘Saloon car racing. It came to an abrupt end at Le Mans when I rolled my Porsche. I spent the next four months in the American Hospital of Paris. In retrospect the crash was the best thing that ever happened to me.’
‘In what way?’ he asked in amazement.
‘I learnt a lot about myself during my convalescence. I realized my life was going nowhere.’
‘So what are you doing now?’ he asked her after paying the steward for the coffee.
‘I’m a translator in New York.’
‘Married?’
She held out her left hand. ‘Nobody wants me.’
‘I can’t believe that.’
‘What about you? Is there a Mrs Werner?’
‘There probably is but I still haven’t met her.’ He sipped the coffee, then looked across the rim of the cup at her. ‘What brings you to Switzerland?’
‘I’m on vacation,’ she replied, then turned to the window when it was suddenly enveloped in darkness.
‘We’re in the Simplon Tunnel. You enter it in Switzerland and leave it in Italy ten miles later.’
‘I’d have thought with your limitless resources, Stefan, you’d be travelling by air, not on some poky little train that looks like it’s going to take till eternity to reach its destination.’
Werner looked around, then leaned forward. ‘Normally I would but this is a special case. My company have patented a new design in freight containers, using a revolutionary new material. It’s more durable and economical, that’s all I can tell you. It has to get to Rome for further testing without our competitors finding out how it’s being transported. We were originally going to fly it down but word reached us that some of our airline staff had already been bribed by one of our main competitors to give them a preview before it was to be flown out, so we had to change our plans at the last moment. We decided on the most innocuous means of transport imaginable. As you said, a poky little train. Joe Hemmings has been on board ever since it left Lausanne and I’ve even got a man locked in with the freight container just in case something should happen. Not that I think it will, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.’
‘And what if something were to happen?’
‘We’d take whatever steps were deemed necessary to deal with it. Industrial espionage is such a dirty business.’
‘So you’re staying with the train until Rome?’
‘That’s the plan. What about you?’
‘Same. At least we’ll have a chance to talk about the old days.’
‘I look forward to it. Dinner tonight?’ he asked.
‘Fine. Eight o’clock?’
‘I’ll make the reservation, if that’s what one does on a train like this.’ He pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘You’ll have to excuse me, my dear, I have work waiting for me in my briefcase.’
‘No rest for the wicked.’
‘Until tonight then.’
He returned to his compartment and rapped on the communicating door. The bolt was released and Hendrique slid the door open.