While waiting for the train in St. Gallen station Martel had called Tweed in London. This was one of the many advantages of Switzerland: its superb telephone system enabled you to dial abroad from a payphone where no one could intercept the call.
Martel had used his usual technique when speaking to Tweed – knowing his call would be tape-recorded. He had spoken in a kind of shorthand – shooting random facts at Tweed, every scrap of information he had picked up. Later Tweed, remote from the battlefield, would try to fit the fragments of data into some kind of pattern.
'Thursday calling,' he said as Tweed came on the line and waited for the answering code identification. -
'Two-Eight here…'
It was Thursday May 28. Martel used the day of the week while Tweed responded with the date of the month. Martel began to pour out data.
'Delta very active inside Switzerland… agents wear businessmen suits… Delta symbol openly displayed in lapels… strange lack of cooperation from locals.. dummy Claire waiting Centralhof tried to kill me… arrested by fake Arnold… imprisoned Hofer waiting Lisbeth Hofer… Claire's twin-like sitter… Lisbeth kidnapped during bloodbath in Bahnhofstrasse… repeat in Bahnhofstrasse… Ferdy Arnold later reported her body found in Limmat… Nagel denied all knowledge events in Bahnhofstrasse… now with genuine Claire Hofer St. Gallen… leaving immediately with her to investigate scene Warner murder… Claire reports Warner made three mentions Operation Crocodile… something phoney about Delta neo-Nazis… must go…'
'Wait!' Tweed's tone was urgent. 'Bayreuth reports Manfred has crossed the border near Hof into West Germany. Manfred – got it?'
`Christ!'
Martel had slammed down the receiver, grabbed his suitcase and-run across the platform to the compartment door Claire had left open. Boarding the express, he hauled the door closed behind him as the train began moving east, dumped his case on a seat and sat down.
Even in the early afternoon the third-floor apartment in the sombre Munich apartment block was so dim the occupant had turned on the shaded desk-lamp. He had entered the apartment to find the phone ringing. His gloved hand lifted the receiver.
`Vinz – calling from Lindau
'We are here,' Manfred replied in his soft, calm voice. 'You arc calling to confirm that a successful deal was concluded in St. Gallen?'
'Regrettably it was not possible to conclude the deal…' Erwin Vinz forced himself to go on. 'Kohler has reported from there…'
'And why was the deal not concluded?'
`The opposition's negotiator proved uncooperative…' Vinz was sweating, his armpits felt damp. 'And the services of two of our people were terminated…'
'T-e-r-m-i-n-a-t-e-d?'
Manfred repeated the word with great deliberation as though he were sure he had misheard. There was a pause and the light from the desk-lamp was reflected in the lenses of the large dark-tinted glasses Manfred wore. In Lindau Vinz made the effort to continue.
`The Englishman is now aboard an express bound for Munich. It is due here in about half an hour…'
`So,' Manfred interjected smoothly, 'you have made all preparations to board the express at Lindau to continue negotiations with this gentleman.' Now it was Manfred's turn to pause. 'You do, of course, realise it is imperative you conclude the deal with him before the train reaches Munich?'
'Everything has been arranged by me personally. I just thought I should check with you…'
'Always check with me, Vinz. Always. Then, as a matter of courtesy, you keep Mr Reinhard Dietrich informed…'
'I will report progress…'
'Passengers have been known to fall out of trains,' Manfred purred. 'You will report success.
Cooped up inside his payphone on the Bavarian mainland Erwin Vinz realised the connection had been broken. Swearing, he pushed open the door and hurried away through a drift of grey mist.
The medieval town of Lindau – once an Imperial city – was blotted out in the fog coming in off the lake. The Old Town is a network of cobbled streets and alleyways which at night only the most intrepid venture down. Not that there is normally any danger – Lindau is a most law-abiding place.
Shortly after Manfred received his phone call three cars proceeded over the road bridge and headed for the Hauptbahnhof. The station is another curious feature of Lindau. Main-line expresses on their way from Zurich to Munich make a diversion at this point. The line takes them across the embankment to the west on to the island. They stop at the Hauptbahnhof next to the harbour.
If you alight from an express at Lindau you pass through Zoll – the customs and passport control post – because you have crossed the border from Austria into Germany. But boarding a train at Lindau for Munich you do not pass through Zoll – since you are already in Germany.
This factor was important to the eight men led by Vinz alighting from the three cars at the Hauptbahnhof. The drivers took the cars away immediately. Dressed like businessmen, two of the eight passengers carried suitcases containing uniforms. These would be donned aboard the Munich express as soon as it began moving out of Lindau.
The uniforms were those of a German State Railways ticket inspector and a German Passport Control official. It was the latter – travelling rapidly through the train and explaining there was a double-check on passports – who expected to locate Keith Martel. The plan was simple. Erwin Vinz, thirty-eight years old, small, thin and with hooded eyelids, was in charge of the execution squad.
Vinz would wear the Passport Control uniform. Vinz would locate the target. If Martel were travelling alone in a compartment it would be invaded when the express was travelling at speed by four men. The outer door would be opened and the Englishman would be hurled from the train. The whole operation, Vinz calculated, would take less than twenty seconds.
If Martel had fellow-passengers in his compartment Vinz would ask him to accompany him because there was a query on his passport. He would be guided to an empty compartment and the same procedure would be followed. Vinz knew that this particular express was always half-empty on this day of the week.
The platform marked for the arrival of the express was deserted as the eight men arrived separately from the concourse. The fog created a hushed atmosphere and the men moved in it like ghosts. Vinz checked his watch. They were in good time. The express was due in twenty minutes.
CHAPTER 10
Thursday May 28
'You'll like Lindau, Keith,' Claire said as Martel peered out of the window from the fast-moving express. 'It is one of the most beautiful old towns in Germany…'
'I know it.' He had his mind on something else. 'I shall want to contact Erich Stoller of the BND as soon as we can – to let him have a look at this…'
Unlocking his case, he produced something rolled up in a handkerchief. A blue, shiny cylinder like a large felt- tip pen. There were two press-buttons: one on the casing, the second at the base.
'I rescued this little Delta toy from the floor of the Embroidery Museum where the killer dropped it. This button half-way along the casing ejects and retracts the needle. I imagine the one at the base injects the poison. Ingenious – you can use the full force of the palm of your hand to operate the injection mechanism. Stoller's forensic people will tell us what fluid it contains…'
'That woman I shot outside the Hecht…'
'Was going to use the duplicate of this. Intriguing that Reinhard Dietrich runs an electronics complex -which involves fine instrumentation…'
`You mean he manufactures that horrible thing?'
'Damned sure of it.' He replaced the weapon inside his case and looked again out of the window. Up to now the view had been one of green cultivated fields and rolling hills – one of the most attractive and least-known parts
