Then the wheel dipped again and Hagen took a deep breath for when he went under the water. The trouble was the slow revolution of the wheel kept him submerged for longer than he could hold his breath. He surfaced spluttering water, his lungs heaving. He knew there was a limit to the period of time he could survive the ordeal.
There was another factor Hagen found increasingly difficult to combat. The circular rotation was disorientating and he was becoming dizzy. His great fear was he would lose consciousness, taking in a great draught of water while submerged.
Martel made a gesture that they retreated from the platform to the river bank. He inserted a cigarette into his holder and lit it as the wheel continued its endless revolutions. Away from the shade of the water-mill the sun beat down on them out of a sky like brass.
'We can talk now without him hearing us,' he remarked. 'He is, of course, slowly drowning…'
'Let him,' Claire said calmly, her face-mask eased up clear of her mouth. 'He's probably the one who carved up Charles…' The female of the species…'
'How long are you going to leave him?' she enquired.
'Until I gauge his resistance is broken. When we release him he has to talk immediately. I just hope he knows something…'
They waited until Hagen was on the verge of losing consciousness, until he was swallowing huge quantities of water each time he went under. Claire re-adjusted her face-mask and they ran to the platform. They had the devil of a job freeing Hagen: constant immersion in water had made the ropes impossible to untie. Martel used a knife he kept inside a sheath strapped to his left leg.
When he carried the water-logged man to the river bank Martel had to work on him, kneading his body to eject water. Claire sat on a rock a short distance away, her pistol aimed at the German. The first question Martel fired was an inspired guess.
`Who are you?'
`Reinhard Dietrich's nephew and heir…'
Only the face-mask concealed Claire's astonishment at the reply. They had hit pure gold. She remained still and menacing as Martel continued the interrogation.
`Name?'
'Werner Hagen – you know these things
'Just answer the questions.' He waited while Hagen coughed and cleared his lungs. 'What is the Delta deadline for Operation Crocodile?'
June 3-the day before the election…' He paused and Claire sensed his powers of resistance were returning. She raised her pistol in her right hand, used her left arm as a balance and took deliberate aim.
'Oh God, stop him!' Hagen pleaded with Martel. `I'm answering your questions. I want out of the whole bloody business. Something's wrong. Vinz's…'
'You said June 3. You were going to add something,' Martel prodded.
'The key is the Summit Express will be moving across Bavaria
`Alt this we know,' Martel lied. 'Warner got the information to London.' He puffed at his cigarette to let his statement sink in.
'I simply want confirmation from you about Delta's flashpoint for June 3…'
You know that!' The surprise was apparent in Hagen's tone. He was still in a state of disorientation.
`So why not tell us what is worrying you – something to do with the Summit Express? Yes?'
`One of the four western leaders aboard is going to be assassinated…'
The statement sent Martel into a state of shock although nothing in his expression betrayed the reaction. His teeth clenched on the holder a- fraction tighter and he continued the interrogation.
'Who is the target?'
'I don't know! God in heaven, I really don't know.. 1'
Hagen's shout – caused by Martel's glance towards the revolving wheel – was convincing.
'How do you know any of this? You – a mere lad,' Martel jibed, 'but a murderous thug at that…'
'Because I'm Reinhard Dietrich's nephew!' Hagen flared. 'I'm regarded as his son, the son his wife never provided. He confides in me…'
'You said earlier "I want out of the whole bloody business. Something's wrong." Don't think about it! Tell me quickly – what is wrong?'
'I'm not sure I know,' Hagen replied sulkily. -
'I'm waiting for a reply,' Martel reminded him. The trouble is, I'm not a patient man.'
'My uncle is supposed to take over Bavaria in the coming election. The people are turning to us because they fear the party of Tofler, the Bolshevik.' He was recovering rapidly, sitting with a frown on his face. 'But as soon as we build up a store of uniforms and arms for the militia to be formed when we win, the BND discover them – as though someone is informing the BND
'And who is going to assassinate one of the western leaders?'
Martel threw the question at him. Hagen stood up slowly. 'I have the cramp…' He bent down and massaged the calf of his left leg, then straightened up, flexing his hands.
'I told you I'm not a patient man,' Martel snapped.
`The assassin – again I swear I do not know his identity – is one of the four security chiefs supposed to be guarding the western leaders…'
The reply threw Martel completely off guard for the fraction of a second. It was all Hagen needed. He rushed forward, aiming a blow at Claire which knocked her off the rock she had perched on. She could have pulled the trigger but knew Martel wanted the German alive.
Hagen's headlong rush was intended to carry him to cover behind the water-mill before either captor could react. It carried him forward as he intended but he stumbled over a protruding outcrop of rock close to the water-mill.
He screamed, hands outstretched to save himself. Claire heard the horrid sound of his skull striking one of the descending metal blades and the scream faded to a gurgle. He lay motionless, head and shoulders in the river. A gush of blood welled, mingling with the peaceful sound of tumbling water.
Claire ran forward, steadied herself on the slope and checked Hagen's neck pulse as Martel came up behind her. Standing up she looked at the Englishman, shaking her head.
'He's dead. What do we do now?'
`Get him back to civilisation and contact Stoller or Dorner at once. I have to find a safe phone to call Tweed.'
They reached police headquarters in Lindau with the body concealed in the back of the car under Martel's raincoat. Dorner gave them the news without preamble.
`Erich Stoller left a message strictly for your ears – he flew to Paris for a security conference. 1 will make arrangements about Hagen – Stoller will want him sent by special ambulance to a morgue in Munich. As to making a phone call to London which can't be intercepted, the answer is the Post Office…'
Dorner drove them there himself. They were closing the doors when the German gently pushed them open and escorted his two companions inside.
A few words from Dorner persuaded the switchboard operator to call the London number. Martel first tried the Maida Vale flat and was relieved when he heard Tweed's voice which sounded weary. The voice changed pitch when Tweed realised who was calling. He activated the recording machine, rushed through the identification procedure and spoke before Martel could say any more.
`Operation Crocodile, Keith. You're standing in the middle of it. Look at a map of southern Germany through half-closed eyes – concentrate on the shape of Lake Konstanz. The damned thing is just like a crocodile- jaws open to the west with the two inlets, Uberlingersee and Untersee
'That confirms my data – something is scheduled to happen in Bavaria. Reinhard Dietrich's nephew, Werner Hagen, talked before he left us permanently…
Crouched over the table in his flat Tweed gripped the receiver more tightly. Events were piling on top of each other – always the most delicate and dangerous phase in an operation. He listened as Martel continued.
'One of the four VIP's aboard the Summit Express is scheduled for assassination on the train. Do you read me
'Of course I do.' Tweed's voice and manner had never been calmer. `Give them numbers – starting geographically from west to east. Which number is the target…'