"Better to call my apartment after eight in the evening. Here is the number. When you call say you are Krantz and give me the number of the phone you are using. Always use a payphone. Then wait for me to call from the payphone in my street,"
Beaurain paused. Zenith. The terror was appalling and spread across a whole continent, the scale of the terror even greater than he had realised. How many men were there of the calibre of Bodel Marker? Men who would live alone in their own private fortress with their families sent maybe thousands of miles away for safety.
Power was being exploited quietly to enslave and manipulate whole nations. And the most horrible aspect of all on the surface everyday life proceeded as though nothing abnormal were happening.
"Contact Henderson priority, Monique. Tell him Elsinore is the present objective. Within two hours I want the place flooded with his people searching for a man and a girl. Here are the descriptions."
Speaking from a street payphone near the Royal Hotel, Beaurain reproduced in a few words the vague impression of Dr. Benny Horn obtained from the photograph Marker had shown him. The other description was more precise and was based on Kellerman's word picture of Black Helmet. The instruction to Jock Henderson was to find the couple quickly, mount a round-the-clock surveillance on them, but above all not to let them know they were being watched.
"Next request, Monique, please call Dr. Henri Goldschmidt of Bruges and ask him to provide urgently everything possible on the origins and background of Dr. Otto Berlin. Then, on my behalf, using the code word Leuven, call Chief Inspector Willy Flamen of Homicide with the same request — everything he can dig up on where Otto Berlin came from, his whole history back to his childhood. OK? I'll call you back when I can. We're on the move so forget the Royal Hotel."
Leaving the phone booth, he joined Kellerman who had been strolling up and down outside as though waiting to make his own call. He relayed the gist of his conversation to the German as they hurried back to the hotel.
"She'll get through to Henderson immediately by radio aboard Firestorm."
"Which is still just north of Elsinore? It sounds as though you're launching an invasion of one of Denmark's key ports."
"Almost comes to that," Beaurain agreed briskly. All his previous irritation and frustration had vanished now that he was able to set the wheels of action in motion.
Two outboard-powered dinghies had reached the shore north of Elsinore where Louise had left the Citroen the previous night. In the lead boat were Louise, Henderson and two guards armed with submachine guns. In the second boat four men, equipped with the same weapons and various other devices, watched the car which stood parked in the same position Louise had left it, the headlamps pointing out to sea.
It was eleven o'clock on a beautiful morning, the sun shining out of a clear blue sky. It was already very warm and the reflection off the wavelets was a powerful glitter. Louise walked towards the Citroen, shoulder-bag over her arm, ignition key in her hand. Henderson followed close behind while two of the guards fanned out beyond towards the forest and the track with their weapons at the ready.
"You're driving straight into Elsinore to look for those two from Nyhavn?" Henderson asked as she reached the car door.
"Yes, Jock." She turned and he was very close to her. "But only after we have gone over the car with a fine-tooth comb for explosive devices."
"Why?"
"Because I was followed by a Porsche from Elsinore. Because I think sooner or later after checking several tracks the person in that Porsche would find this Citroen. Because since then they have had plenty of time to turn it into a death-trap."
Top marks!" Jock turned to the men from the second boat who were grinning as they stood waiting and holding small toolkit bags. "Go ahead," he told them. "And for Christ's sake be careful."
Louise let Henderson lead her away by the arm a safe distance from the Citroen as the bomb squad started work assembling its equipment rapidly, including a circular mirror on a long handle for looking under the car. Louise glanced at the Scot with an amused expression.
"You really thought I was going to get inside and start the engine! If not, why were you practically hugging me when we got there?"
"You damned near fooled me, that's why! The confident way you walked up with the key held in your hand. I admit it — I was ready to haul you back fast if you'd tried to use the key."
"Why not check with me earlier?"
"I never stop testing people's alertness particularly on a major operation. I think the balloon is about to go up, and the process will start in Elsinore."
"You managed to avoid the railway police? You are sure that no-one saw you hide the consignment?" Dr. Benny Horn asked as he polished his rimless glasses and hooked them on again over his ears.
He was talking to Sonia Karnell who had just returned to his room in his new Elsinore headquarters, the Hotel Skandia. Black Helmet was dressed like a man, and wore a white nautical cap. From a paper carrier bag she took out a railway man cap and threw it on the bed. She was dressed entirely in black.
"That damned thing gave me a headache — it's too tight. Do you think I'd be here if I hadn't evaded the railway police, for God's sake? As for the consignment, all the heroin is now packed inside the wagon containing packing material."
"No need to get upset, my dear," Horn replied mildly. I was only…"
"You were only sitting in this hotel room drinking coffee and generally relaxing while I risked a prison sentence of Christ knows how many years carting that suitcase round the rail yard and secreting it aboard the right wagon. Here's the number."
She unzipped her breast pocket, took out a folded piece of paper and threw it at Horn. As she turned away he grasped her by the elbow, spun her round and threw her backwards onto the bed. Then Horn was on top of her, his eyes remote and devoid of all expression as he stared down at her like a specimen from his collection of rare editions which he suspected was a fake.
"You will never speak to me in that way again or I will arrange for a certain Gunther Baum to break your neck."
"Drive like hell to Elsinore. The main station. Use the siren to shove other traffic into the ditch!"
The uniformed policeman who drove Bodel Marker, Chief of Intelligence, dived behind the wheel of the car he had brought to the front of Politigarden. Marker had already settled himself in the back and his chubby face was still flushed with fury. Glancing in the rear-view mirror, the driver caught the expression in Marker's eyes, a look of sheer blue murder. He concentrated on getting out of Copenhagen and onto the motorway where he could make speed to Elsinore.
It had happened as soon as Marker had returned to his office. To his intense annoyance he found his superior had let himself into his private sanctum with the master key. Marker had walked round his desk, sat in his own chair and stared at the man waiting in the visitor's seat. Marker said not a word, forcing the other to take the initiative.
"Sorry to break in here, so to speak, Marker."
"Well, now you're here…" A deliberate absence of sir.
"This huge consignment of heroin which it is rumoured is passing through here on its way to Sweden. You know what I'm talking about, Marker?"
"I will in a minute, I expect," retorted the normally amiable Intelligence chief.
"Forget you ever heard about it, Marker."
"I need that in writing. At once. I'll call my secretary."
"Hold on a moment." The thin man with the curled lips and supercilious manner held out a restraining hand. Marker's own hand was half-way towards the intercom which would summon his secretary. "This isn't something we want on record, if you understand me."
"I don't understand you. Where does this instruction emanate from? I want the original source."