"That is so," Flamen agreed. "Ransacked to cover the stealing of the notebook later left in Florin's apartment. Voisin wants me to hold you for questioning," he added casually.
"In what connection?" Beaurain asked tightly.
"In connection with the investigation of the murder of Pierre Florin — because you were going to question Florin and also on the evidence of your notebook being found there." Flamen produced a small black notebook from his pocket and pushed it across the table. "That is yours, I take it, Jules?"
"You know it is."
"By the way, Florin was shot in the back of the neck. One shot."
"The old Nazi method of execution."
"Of course!" He snapped his fingers.
"That's w hat it reminded me of. It could be the signature of the executioner — a German trained by the Nazis. By the way, have either of you visited Bruges recently?" Flamen enquired placidly. His pipe was smoking furiously and he was staring out of the window.
"Yes," Beaurain answered shortly. Today."
He kept his answers as brief as possible and avoided mentioning that Louise had accompanied him. Willy Flamen could be clever and devious.
"Why?"
"Because this morning a bar gee called Frans Darras and his wife, Rosa, were brutally murdered aboard their barge. The same technique was used both were shot in the back of the neck. One bullet apiece. Voisin has dived in head first, linked the three killings together because of the modus operandi and linked them all with you because of Florin. The fact that you were in Bruges today won't help when he hears."
Flamen broke off to answer the telephone. He listened and then asked a number of questions rapidly. The topic of the phone call was obvious. Flamen broke the connection, excused himself, and used the phone to despatch a team of investigators and forensic experts. Replacing the receiver, he gave a grunt and then looked at both of them with a grim smile.
"Where have you parked your Mercedes, Jules?"
"In a side street out of sight."
"Good." He stared at the ceiling. "There was a blood bath outside police headquarters not fifteen minutes ago. Voisin is going mad — as if that were news. Three men attacked a vehicle passing headquarters. All three are dead, and one was armed with a sub machine-gun. Some fool of a woman peering out after it was nearly over says that four men who were attacked were travelling in a Mercedes. She didn't specify a 280E." He waited for comment.
"So?" asked Beaurain.
"I'm glad to see you both looking so well." His manner became very serious as he leaned forward over the table. "More than ever I think you should leave Belgium tonight. Surely you can continue your investigation from a safer country."
" Name one," said Beaurain. "But thanks, Willy." He left it at that.
"One thing which puzzles me is how the Syndicate operates its communications — because you can bet your pension it will have a system and a good one. Is anyone working on that?"
Flamen stood up and brought a map of Belgium from a side-cabinet which he spread out over his desk. "There has been an unusual amount of illegal radio traffic during the past six months."
"In these ringed areas?" Beaurain asked, studying the map.
"Yes. A colleague of mine compiled this and I borrowed it — I thought it might interest you. I can't make head or tail of the thing."
"But you think it has some significance?" Louise enquired.
"That's what I'm not sure about," Flamen admitted. "We have a fleet of radio-detector vans scattered throughout Belgium. Some are under the control of counter-espionage."
"And these ringed areas show the areas of the most intense activity during the past six months?" Louise asked. While she and Flamen were talking Beaurain was staring at the map with a scowl of concentration.
"That's right," Flamen agreed. "The trouble is the Syndicate's transmitters keep moving while transmitting. That increases the difficulty of location enormously. They must have the transmitters inside tradesmen's vans — something innocent-looking which wouldn't look out of place travelling along a highway."
"How do you know these are Syndicate transmissions? Has someone broken the code?" Beaurain asked.
Flamen hesitated. "That's top secret information from another department. Frankly, until today I wasn't sure myself, and no-one else is, so this is between the three of us. One of our men did crack one code. Two days later he was killed. Shot in the back of the neck. One bullet."
"Order Captain Buckminster to take Firestorm into the Kattegat and then proceed full steam ahead until he's anchored off Elsinore."
Immediately after their meeting with Chief Inspector Willy Flamen, Beaurain and Louise had driven back to Henderson's control headquarters. On arriving Beaurain had begun to issue a stream of instructions to Henderson. Within minutes the atmosphere inside the room — which had been tense before they returned — became electric. At one stage Henderson swung briefly in his swivel chair to ask a question.
"All this means, sir, that Telescope is temporarily evacuating Belgium including the Chateau Wardin? Is it really essential to go that far?"
"If we are to fool the Stockholm Syndicate we have to put into action what you have rehearsed time and again, Jock. We withdraw so swiftly we're gone before they suspect what's happening."
"May I know the reason?"
"I'm just coming to it. I'm gambling everything on two people being right Goldschmidt in Bruges and Ed Cottel of the CIA. They both state that a full meeting of the Stockholm Syndicate is taking place somewhere in Scandinavia in less than two weeks' time. Telescope must be there in force to confront them."
"Why should Goldschmidt and Cottel be right?" Louise objected.
"They don't have to be," Beaurain said, 'but we have to take a decision and it's bound to be a gamble. The point is they have entirely different sources — literally in different continents. But they both say the same thing. About two weeks away a meeting. Locale — Scandinavia."
"Hence you're moving Firestorm towards the Baltic?"
"It's so packed with men and equipment it has become a mobile version of Telescope. We now have a force at sea we can land almost anywhere in the Scandinavian zone. My huge gamble," Beaurain admitted, 'is that this will be the scene of Gold-schmidt's predicted collision between Telescope and the Stockholm Syndicate. Our next move," he told Louise, 'is to pay a brief visit to Ed Cottel who is now back at the Hilton."
"If you can reach it alive," commented Henderson.
"It's the Baltic — just as I suspected," said Captain "Bucky' Buckminster, Captain of the steam yacht Firestorm, to his First Mate as he read the decoded signal. "At the moment we sail through the Kattegat and wait at the entrance to the Oresund…" His wiry hand traced the course on the chart spread out on the chart-table. "On arrival we anchor off Elsinore unless we're ordered to proceed at full speed into the Baltic, which wouldn't surprise me,"
Buckminster was a tall, restless man of fifty who had commanded a destroyer in the Royal Navy before retiring at his own request.
"We do realise the murder of your daughter in Beirut must have come as a great shock, Bucky," one of his superiors had told him. "But why don't you give your decision more time? You'll lose your pension, you love the sea, and who's going to give you another command like the one you're resigning?"
"No-one, sir," Buckminster had lied, meeting the Admiral's eyes without flinching. It would not have done to reveal that he would be taking over command of a vessel which carried at least as heavy a punch as the destroyer whose command he was relinquishing, even if it was concealed under the guise of a powerful steam-ship built and operated for the Baron de Graer.
Seen from the air, the impression of idle luxury was confirmed by the blue swimming pool. It would have taken a very keen pilot's eye to notice the size of the helipad aft, capable of landing the largest type of Sikorsky in the world, the chopper which the Americans in Vietnam had called a gunship.