"Where are they now?"
Henderson checked the clock. "En route to Kastrup Airport, Copenhagen. Within half an hour of landing."
"We'd better get over and see Willy Flamen." Beaurain stood up, uneasy about something. How the devil had they let Otto Berlin slip off the Ostend Express? Henderson swung round in his chair.
"Maybe I didn't make myself clear, sir. It is Commissioner Voisin who is anxious to see you. Asked particularly would you give him some idea of your arrival time."
"You made yourself quite clear. We're still going to call on Willy Flamen first. I'll contact you later to find out what's happening to Litov. Come on, Louise." Beaurain had reached the door when he turned and gave a final order. "One more thing, put all our people inside Brussels on a red alert immediately."
Louise waited until they were sitting in the Mercedes before she asked the question. The Belgian had a brooding look and had not yet signalled to the guard to open the gate.
"Jules, what was that about a red alert? That means everyone has to expect an emergency at any moment, doesn't it?"
"The request from Commissioner Voisin to go and see him immediately…" Beaurain signalled the guard, gunned the motor and drove out of the archway into heavy traffic. Louise noticed his eyes were everywhere: checking the mirror; glancing at both sidewalks; checking the mirror again. "Plus the fact that Voisin wants me to warn him in advance when I'm going to arrive. It fits in with that Zenith signal."
"But he's a Commissioner of Police! Jules, you aren't serious. You don't think Voisin is one of the Syndicate's men?" Her tone of voice expressed her incredulity. "You may not like the fat creep but you're letting your prejudices cloud your judgement. Hey, where are we going? You've missed the turning to Flamen's place."
"We're going to take a look at police headquarters. Flamen we visit later." He eased into the kerb and parked. "And I'd like us to switch places — you drive and I'll be the passenger. Be prepared to drive like hell."
Louise walked round the car and got in behind the wheel. Beaurain had no qualms about giving her the order to drive this way: Louise Hamilton had been a crack racing driver at Brands Hatch in England. Without a word he extracted his. 38 Smith amp; Wesson from his shoulder holster and rested the weapon in his lap.
There wouldn't be much traffic at this hour around the police headquarters, which meant the 280E would be conspicuous to watchers. And Beaurain had no doubt that the Stockholm Syndicate would know the model and the number of his car. It was a crazy idea about Voisin: he hardly believed it possible himself. But he kept hearing Goldschmidt's voice. Trust no-one, Jules. There is treachery everywhere.
"If you're so suspicious," Louise said with a hint of sarcasm, 'you should have sent a team of gunners to check out police headquarters."
"You're probably right. But to tell you the truth, that didn't occur to me until we'd left Jock."
"Well, here we are. We'll soon know now."
Oh my God! Louise's exceptional self-control prevented her swerving. For a moment she couldn't speak to warn Jules — then she saw he had grasped his revolver with one hand and with the other had lowered his window.
"Jules — on both sides — two cars…"
"The one with a single man inside too?"
"Yes they called him Pietr. He was the policeman in the blue Renault. He tried to block me in when I was getting away,"
"Proceed as slowly as you're going now, as though we haven't seen anything. Be ready to accelerate like a rocket when I say "go"."
"They'll have us in a crossfire if they see us."
"They've already seen us. Hold down the speed. They're waiting for the moment when they have us sandwiched."
"That couple in the car on the right the short bulky man's called Andre and he's a killer."
She continued cruising forward, her eyes whipping from side to side. Both cars were parked facing the oncoming Mercedes. Both could drive out and create a barrier she'd never pass. Was Jules really more tired than she had realised? The Fiat stationed on the right began to move from where it was parked outside the entrance to police headquarters.
As Louise had warned, they were going to be trapped in a crossfire. The cars had been waiting for them, had known that sooner or later Beaurain would arrive to keep his appointment with Commissioner Voisin!
" Go! "
Beaurain shouted the command and her reaction was a reflex, her foot ramming down hard on the accelerator which responded with instant action and power. The Fiat containing the two men was heading on a course which would take it across her bows, forcing her to stop, while they poured a hail of gunfire into it.
On his side Beaurain had already seen the thin man beside the driver lifting a sub-machine gun. Out of the corner of his eye he saw what he had foreseen — that the Renault was still parked at the kerb. No man can drive and aim a weapon accurately at the same time, and Pietr was aiming his silenced weapon through the open window.
Beaurain fired four times at the oncoming Fiat. The 280E was surging forward like a torpedo under Louise's expert control. Three of Beaurain's bullets hit the man with the sub-machine gun. Blood splashed the shattered glass of the Fiat's windscreen. The car began to swerve wildly as Beaurain fired again and hit the driver.
"Don't move your head!"
Beaurain turned to his left, laid his arm along the back of Louise's seat and fired two more shots. One hit the target. Blood spurted from Pietr's head and he slumped over his wheel. Beaurain saw it all in a blur as the 280E screamed past police headquarters where no-one had appeared despite the cannonade and the screech of tyres.
Louise's skilful manoeuvring took them past the moving Fiat and then they had left behind the carnage and Beaurain, looking back, saw no sign of pursuit. It was as though police headquarters had been stripped of patrol cars and personnel while the Syndicate killers tried to complete their job.
"You certainly handled that," Louise commented as she changed direction again in case of pursuit. "I wouldn't have known which car to tackle first."
"The Fiat — because it carried a sub-machine gun and it was moving. Now, head for Willy Flamen's apartment."
"Get out of Brussels, Jules: better still, out of Belgium. Both of you. Preferably tonight. The cold-blooded killing of Pierre Florin should be enough warning."
Willy Flamen stared over the rim of his cup at Beaurain and Louise as they drank the coffee and ate the sandwiches provided by his wife. The policeman was a man who spoke his mind and possessed great courage. Which made his advice all the more disturbing.
"You're telling us to run? That's not like you, Willy. Anyway it was agreed at Voisin's meeting that I should investigate the Syndicate." He smiled wrily. "The brief was to confirm its existence, for God's sake."
"Well recent events should have convinced you of that," Flamen commented, pausing to light his pipe. Beaurain recalled that he used it at moments of crisis. "And there is worse to come if you can believe that's possible."
"Do cheer us up," Louise joked.
He pointed his pipe-stem at her.
"Enjoy this, then. Jules let it be known he wanted to interview Florin, the sergeant who was on desk duty just before he took sick leave. As you know, Florin was found murdered at his apartment. When I made a search there, I found a notebook belonging to you, Jules — it had your name in the front. A small black notebook — easily dropped when someone is in a hurry." He sat back in his chair and went on puffing his pipe. Louise stared at him, the muscles of her jaw tight.
"And I believe my own apartment has been broken into and ransacked," Beaurain said quietly.