‘This is for you, Sergei, from the boss,’ she concluded, taking a sealed envelope from the holdall and handing it to Kolchinsky.
Kolchinsky slit the seal open, read the contents of the letter and then burned it. ‘The Colonel wants us to impound the plutonium as soon as possible. He feels it’s too dangerous to play this cat and mouse game with them any longer, especially with Hendrique on the loose with such an array of weapons. This train’s only so big and innocent people are likely to be hurt if he’s not stopped.’
‘One has already. The conductor.’
Kolchinsky nodded and explained the incident briefly to Sabrina.
She glanced at the communicating door. ‘Make sure you point out which couchette he’s under before I turn in. I’d hate to sleep on him.’
‘I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,’ Graham said sardonically.
She gave him a contemptuous smile then turned to Kolchinsky. ‘Have you got a plan in mind?’
‘It’s the outline of a plan. Whether it’s feasible is quite another matter.’
Graham and Sabrina listened to him in silence then the three of them thrashed out the details until they were in agreement how to implement it.
Sabrina then went through to the dining car and while she ate she thought about C.W. and wondered how he was progressing with his investigation in Mainz.
The telephone rang.
Whitlock rolled over sleepily in bed and fumbled in the darkness for the overhead light switch. He knocked something over and by the noise it made on hitting the carpet he knew it was the quarter-full glass of water he had left on the bedside table before going to sleep. He found the switch then lifted the receiver to his ear, his forearm shielding his eyes from the dazzling light.
‘Hello?’ he muttered, stifling a yawn.
The voice at the other end was little more than a hoarse whisper.
‘Hello?’ he said irritably. ‘You’ll have to speak up.’
‘C.W.?’ the voice was barely audible.
‘Yes, who’s speaking?’
‘Karen.’
‘It’s–’ He squinted at the bedside clock with one eye. ‘God, it’s 1.40 in the morning. What do you want?’
‘He’s outside.’
‘Who?’ he asked, struggling to sit up in bed.
‘The man in the black Mercedes who tried to run us down at the Hilton. He’s on the porch. Please help me.’
He heard the sound of breaking glass over the telephone.
She screamed.
‘Karen! Karen!’ he shouted into the mouthpiece. ‘Are you there?’
‘He’s getting into the house,’ she whimpered. ‘He’s going to kill me.’
‘Lock yourself in one room and barricade the door. I’ll be there as fast as I can.’
‘C.W., please–’
‘Karen, get off the phone and do as I say!’
He cut her off and immediately called the police, who promised to send a car round to her house without delay. He dressed quickly and pocketed the Browning as he hurried from the room. After getting brief, but accurate, directions from the night manager at the reception desk he ran out into the car park to where the Golf was parked. He started it up first time and sped out into Kaiserstrasse, heading south towards the Rhine. The wheels shrieked as he swung into Rheinallee, a promenade running parallel to the river, then over the Heuss Bridge into the eastern side of the city. He lost his bearings and had to double back to the bridge, much to his frustration, then sped up Boetckestrasse, past the dominating castle on his left (which the night manager had specifically mentioned), and almost missed Hindenburgstrasse but managed to negotiate the bend at the last possible moment. The Golf mounted the kerb but he quickly regained control of the wheel and pulled up behind the police car, its rooflights flashing, in front of the old Roman Catholic church. He leaped out and sprinted up the driveway but was prevented from entering the house by a uniformed policeman. He looked past the policeman at the slivers of broken glass strewn across the hall carpet then explained who he was in hesitant, but comprehensible, German. The policeman called out to an unseen colleague in the lounge and Whitlock was allowed to enter.
Karen was sitting on the edge of the sofa in the lounge, a dressing gown tied tightly around her, a white handkerchief in her hands. It was only when she looked up that he could see the bluish welt under her left eye. She ran to him and hugged him fiercely, tears spilling down her cheeks. Just as suddenly she pulled back and smiled sheepishly. He squeezed her hand reassuringly and led her back to sit with him on the sofa. The policeman, sitting in an armchair beside the sofa, questioned Karen a while longer then turned his attention to Whitlock and asked him a few routine questions. When the fingerprint man announced he was through dusting the front door the policeman got to his feet and promised Karen a police car would pass the house at regular intervals for the rest of the night. She saw him to the door and waited until he had driven away before returning to the lounge. Whitlock handed her the compress lying on the coffee table and she reluctantly held it against the swelling.
‘Coffee?’ she asked softly.
‘I’ll make it, you just keep the compress in place.’
The kitchen was compact, with built-in pine cupboards and a pine table in the middle of the floor with matching benches on either side of it.
She sat down on one of the benches and watched as he prepared a fresh brew of percolated coffee.
He unhooked two mugs from the row against the wall, poured coffee into each, then took a carton of milk from the fridge and put it on the table.
‘Thanks for coming so quickly, and for calling the police,’ she said after he had seated himself opposite her.
‘I’m only sorry I wasn’t able to prevent that,’ he said indicating her eye. ‘And keep the compress on.’
‘It’s uncomfortable,’ she replied with a grimace.
‘It’s meant to be. What happened tonight?’
‘I was woken by a noise outside and when I came downstairs I saw the Mercedes parked in the driveway. I’m sure it was the same one that was used to try and run us down at the Hilton. Then I saw a shadow on the porch. I know I should have called the police but I panicked and you were the first person who came to mind. He smashed one of the panes in the front door while we were talking–’
‘Yeah, I heard it,’ he said grimly.
‘I ran to the bathroom but the bolt’s very flimsy. He broke down the door and then hit me. When he heard the police siren in the distance he fled. Thank God there was a police car in the vicinity to respond to the call.’
‘What did he look like?’
‘He was wearing a balaclava. I’m scared, C.W., I’m really scared.’
‘Do you want me to stay with you tonight?’
‘Very much,’ she said squeezing his hands.
He pulled away. ‘As a night watchman.’
‘You’re married, aren’t you?’
‘Six years now.’
She smiled sadly. ‘Why are the best men always married? It’s not fair.’
‘I’m sure the single guys say the same about women. I did, until I met my wife.’
‘Have you got children?’
‘We’ve never wanted any. Maybe we’ll regret it some day.’
‘I never regretted having Rudi. I’ll always have the memories.’ She studied his face as he stared thoughtfully into space. ‘Your wife’s a very lucky woman.’
‘Lucky? In what way?’
‘To have a husband who doesn’t cheat on her the moment she’s out of sight. Not many men would turn down the chance of sleeping with me.’