"Why then?" one man had asked.
"I don't know and I don't care!" Woltz had snarled impatiently. "All I know is we are being paid a small fortune."
Prior to slipping over the side of the steam-launch they had, as instructed, waited while Delfin II arrived from Elsinore, disgorged its human and wheeled cargo from Denmark, and started to take on board the cars and passengers waiting at Halsingborg. Woltz himself had watched through field glasses, seeing only the driver of the blue Mercedes who, in his turn, was watching the cavalcade of vehicles crawling up the ramp inside Delfin II.
Woltz had no idea who this man was or what he was looking for. Nor would he recognise him again. The man standing by the Mercedes wore a light trench coat with the collar turned up and a soft hat pulled well down over his face. Then he gave the signal. Using a tightly-rolled newspaper like a baton, he rapped the bonnet of the car five times in an absent-minded manner. Woltz counted the rises and falls of the newspaper, then dropped his glasses, turning to the others waiting in the launch.
"We go! For God's sake handle the equipment carefully."
Woltz had no way of knowing — nor would he have been interested — that the driver of the Mercedes had only given the go-ahead signal once he had seen Peter Lindahl drive his grey Volvo up the ramp and inside Delfin II.
"We want the entire ferry to sink within five minutes. There must be no survivors."
This chilling instruction had been given to Woltz inside an empty two-storey house outside the Swedish town of Malmo. The organisation of whoever he was dealing with had stimulated Woltz's sneaking admiration They had even gone to the trouble of fixing up a field telephone inside the house. As previously instructed, he had answered the instrument in a downstairs room, knowing that the man speaking was above him on the first floor. And nothing in the world would have tempted Woltz to creep up the staircase.
"Why not sink her in the middle of the Oresund? Why wait until she is close to the Danish shore?" Woltz had objected.
"That is not your problem. Just do as we tell you. You will be watched, of course. If you wish to get the balance of the money instead of a bullet in the back of the neck, start doing things our way."
It had been eerie — the voice, the atmosphere inside the abandoned house. Woltz had been relieved to get out of the place. Now, hidden under the ferry's keel, watching his team through the perspex window of his face-mask, Woltz had no occasion to feel anything but professional satisfaction at a job well done.
Six explosive limpet mines were attached to various parts of Delfin's hull. "Do not forget that three of the mines must be attached under the car deck," the voice in the house near Malmo had told him. Underneath the blurry silhouette of Delfin's hull, Woltz was trying to concentrate on what he was doing rather than on the consequences of his act which would be swift and horrendous.
The limpet mines had magnetic clamps — so attaching them to the hull was a simple job. You held the mine in the correct position, pressed the switch and the magnetic feet sprang up and affixed themselves like suckers. The last thing was to wait until all six mines were attached like obscene metallic boils and then Woltz himself swam along beneath the hull, pausing at each mine to press another switch which activated the radio mechanism.
As soon as the last man was safely back aboard the steam launch Woltz ordered a crewman to send the signal — the signal confirming that the mines were in position, that the radio mechanisms had been activated, that it now only needed whoever was holding the control device to press a button and detonate all six mines.
The signal was a dipping of the Danish flag at the stern. Borrowing a pair of field glasses, Woltz focused them on the blue Saab which had appeared and was parked where the Mercedes had stationed itself earlier. To his disappointment, the driver behind the wheel wore a helmet and goggles.
Woltz had no way of knowing that he was looking in the wrong direction — that the Saab was simply being used to divert his attention from a very powerful white motor-cruiser behind him. This vessel was proceeding south away from the car ferry — drifting with the tide at such a slow speed it was barely moving. On the bridge a bearded man wearing a nautical cap lowered the field glasses he had trained on Woltz's launch.
"That is the signal," he said.
"Now we know Lindahl is aboard — and that the Delfin is a floating bomb," replied Dr. Benny Horn, who stood beside the captain.
Delfin II was two-thirds of the way across the Oresund. Three more ferries were on the move; two crossing to Sweden, the third approaching the ferry terminal outside the railway station at Elsinore.
Deep inside the bowels of the ferry Peter Lindahl was now sitting behind the wheel of his Volvo impatient to disembark. Lindahl, despite his relief at getting clear of Sweden, studied the other drivers carefully. No-one seemed to be taking any undue interest in him.
At the car ferry terminal Beaurain was watching a sleek white motor-cruiser drifting well south of the harbour. It was the drift which had first attracted his attention; you didn't normally just let a vessel like that float about. He handed the field glasses to Louise.
Take a look at that white boat. There are two men on the bridge. Look at them, too."
She adjusted the f ocus slightly and stared hard. Then she moved the glasses a fraction and Beaurain heard her intake of breath.
"What is it?"
"The second man — the one with the cap — looks like the man I saw climb into the van carrying the suitcase from the house on Nyhavn. He looks like Dr. Benny Horn," On the bridge of the motor-cruiser Horn was staring fixedly at the progress of the ferry carrying Peter Lindahl to Denmark. He was gauging its distance from the Danish shore.
" Now! "
The bearded captain holding the radio-control device pressed one button and at the same second opened up the throttle. Pocketing the device, he opened up the throttle more. The prow of the cruiser lifted like the snout of a shark and the vessel leapt across the waves. "You bloody fool, you'll draw attention to us," cursed Horn, but his words were blotted out by the roar of explosions.
As the bearded captain pressed the button the radio impulse it released travelled in a fraction of a second to t he receivers built into each of the six limpet mines attached to the hull of Delfin II. Along with the multitude of other victims, Peter Lindahl heard nothing. Sitting on top of one of the mines, it had been instant oblivion.
"Oh, God, Jules!"
Louise grabbed his arm and put a hand over her mouth. The giant ferry had been blown to pieces. A battering shock wave carried the sea in a minor tidal wave into the harbour, sinking countless small moored vessels during its passage before it smashed against the harbour wall.
Louise was frozen with horror. She had the awful impression she could see pieces of cars — wheels and chassis — spinning among the vast cloud of black smoke spreading rapidly into the sky. She looked behind her and saw everyone else frozen like statues. The only movement was the approach of Bodel Marker's car. In the distance sirens were starting to scream, boats were starting to put out to sea.
"What in hell has happened out there?"
Beaurain was facing Marker, watching his expression closely when he replied, his voice hard and clipped and, Louise noticed, very public school.
"The Syndicate has just blown up a car ferry. The number of casualties will be appalling. I doubt whether any man, woman or child aboard has survived. It will probably become known as "The Elsinore Massacre" and it will hit the headlines of every newspaper in the world tomorrow. And all to eliminate one, just one man."