"That's her?"
"Yes, that's Yvette." De Graer couldn't keep still. He kept glancing towards the drinks cabinet and then forcing himself to remain behind his desk.
"Can you imagine how I felt when that arrived?"
"You have warned your sister?"
"She mustn't know anything about it." The banker was close to panic now.
"Her husband is a prominent lawyer, as you know. He would create a great fuss — which might lead back to the Banque. I have complied with their demands supplied them with funds so Yvette is safe."
"You hope."
"Damn you, Jules! Don't say things like that! I have done my best, but the Syndicate has agents every where. No doubt there is someone inside this building who watches me."
"Have you told this Madame who calls you about Telescope?" Beaurain asked slowly.
"For God's sake, do you think I would betray the organisation I helped to build? What a question." De Graer mopped his forehead with his handkerchief, beyond caring. Then he made a supreme effort and got a grip on himself.
"I am relying on Telescope to destroy the Syndicate. The police and security services are helpless they are not even convinced this new octopus exists. You would have found that out if you had been able to attend the Commissioner's international conference."
"But I am attending it."
"You will be stopped at the door. Someone influential at that meeting has also received a Zenith message to exclude you. Do not ask me who it is I don't know. Don't ask me how I know."
"This is the end of your connection with Telescope then?"
De Graer smiled bleakly for the first time. Producing the ring of keys at the end of the gold chain again he opened a much deeper drawer and brought out a brief-case which he placed on the desk. The key was in the lock. When Beaurain opened it he was staring at stacks of banknotes which filled the case. Swiss francs; a quick glance told him the serial numbers were not consecutive. Laundered money and quite untraceable. He shut and locked the case and looked at the banker.
"Another contribution to Telescope, Jules. The equivalent of half a million pounds in sterling."
"Thank you, Baron. Thank you, very sincerely. Now, the telephone number Madame gave you to contact her?"
"She will know Yvette, my niece…"
"She will not know, but we might decide to trace her and put her out of action. Permanently."
De Graer hesitated only a moment before he riffled through a card index on his desk, extracted a card and handed it to Beaurain. The banker had invented the name Pauline for Madame and he watched unhappily while Beaurain noted the number in his book. "This is getting almost like wartime," de Graer commented. "Your use of the word "permanently"."
"She threatened a little girl's life, didn't she? And you presumably have to report something to Madame about my visit since you're convinced there is a spy inside the Banque? Agreed, then. You tell her I came to you as an old friend in some agitation because an attempt was made to assassinate me near the Grand Place. Tell her the assassin was able to make his escape. Tell her I looked shaken." He picked up the brief-case. "Thank you again for the contribution. Before I go, is there anything else you can tell me about the Syndicate?"
De Graer hesitated, then stiffened himself. "All the members — shareholders…"
"Contributors to this criminal international organisation…"
He saw the banker flinch before he continued. "There will be a full meeting in about a fortnight's time. I have been told I shall have to travel to Scandinavia, although where exactly I don't know."
"Let me know when you get more details," Beaurain told him as he walked towards the door. "And from now on use a payphone in the street for calling the Chateau Wardin."
The guard on the second floor accompanied him down in the lift. Was there an aura of hostility about the man? Beaurain was looking at everything with fresh eyes. And the guard was carrying a gun in a shoulder holster, an innovation for the Banque du Nord.
As he left the lift the guard did not look at him, remaining behind as the ground floor man took over again in silence and escorted him to the main doors. Beaurain paused before stepping out. A phone call could have been made, men could have been summoned. Louise Hamilton was sitting in the passenger seat and her expression was grim.
"Something wrong?" Beaurain enquired as he got behind the wheel.
"That creep in the blue Renault in front is what's wrong. He's given you a ticket. I told him who you were, but it made no difference."
"I'll have a word with him. Something odd is going on. I'll explain later."
Beaurain noticed that the policeman was in plain clothes. The man, lean-faced and swarthy, wound down the window at his approach. I was just considering having you towed away."
"You know who I am?"
"Yes, but that…"
"I don't know who you are — and only uniformed branch concerns itself with traffic offences Your action is harassment. Show me your warrant card."
"I don't have to show you anything."
"So now I don't think you're in the police and I'm going to drag you out of that car and find some identity on you."
Worried by Beaurain's expression, the man produced his police card. Beaurain nodded, hacked the traffic ticket into the man's top pocket and walked away, angry and puzzled. Since his resignation he had received the same courtesies as when he had been chief of the anti-terrorist squad. Was this development the result of the Zenith signal de Graer had received? Behind the wheel of the 280E, he said nothing to Louise but switched on the ignition and drove off.
"We're being followed," she said. "A cream Fiat with two men inside. It was parked behind me. When that man was giving me a ticket I saw him signal the couple behind us."
In the mirror Beaurain saw the car. Three men in plain clothes had been detailed to watch him. The terror had started.
Chapter Four
Arriving at police headquarters, Beaurain parked by the kerb and took Louise into the waiting room. Normally he would have told her to take the car to his apartment and wait there. Now he thought she would be safer inside.
"Keep an eye on Miss Hamilton for me, Pierre," he told the duty sergeant.
He was late for the conference called by Commissioner Voisin so he ran up the stairs, leaving Louise alone in the cheerless waiting room.
Outside in the street one of the two men who had followed the Mercedes emerged from a payphone and Pierre, the duty sergeant inside the police station, replaced his receiver. He glanced across to where Louise was sitting with her back to the window and left his post. The reception desk was now unmanned and there was no-one else in sight.
The two men from the Fiat walked into the station, glanced across at the reception desk and entered the waiting room. One stayed by the door to keep an eye on the corridor. Louise, reading a paperback she had taken from her shoulder-bag, glanced up and froze.
"You are Louise Hamilton?"
The man addressing her was tall and bony-faced. He wore a light trench coat, a soft-brimmed hat and dark glasses. Louise stood up quickly and looked towards the reception desk which she saw was unoccupied. That struck her as off-key, as did the manner and appearance of the two men. The man outside the waiting-room was shorter and bulkier than his companion, and chewed gum as he kept glancing along the empty corridor.
"May I see your identity card?" she asked.