`Lindemann said Balkan has held his position for a long time, that he is very mobile. Diana told us Berlin is like a grasshopper, jumping all over the place. No one knows where he disappears to. Also he lives like a hermit, won't normally be interviewed. He gave me mine a couple of years ago to shut the others up, I'm sure. The weird thing is when I was talking to him I felt I'd met him before…'
`The trouble is one fact blows a hole right through such a theory. Diana Chadwick. She knew him way back in Kenya – that was twenty years ago. He can hardly have been Balkan then.'
`I suppose you're right.'
They walked in silence, each man mulling over his thoughts, for some time. Tweed checked his watch and said it was time to get back to the station. They were on board the train, travelling south, again in an empty compartment, when Newman said it.
`Tweed, we've got a lot to think about – and do. I have to check the backgrounds of Diana Chadwick and Dr Berlin. And all at once there are developments coming thick and fast. The party on Priwall Island the day after tomorrow. This business of the mysterious Balkan turning up. And, the imminent arrival of the killer Masterson called The Cripple..
`Should be enough to occupy us when we get to Lubeck,' Tweed agreed.
He didn't realize it, but he had just made the understatement of the year. The situation at Lubeck had exploded.
Eleven
`All hell has broken loose at Travemunde.'
Kuhlmann, wearing the same sober dark grey suit, stood by the window in Tweed's bedroom at the Jensen, staring at Newman and Tweed. Beyond the window dusk was gathering, a purple glow hung over Lubeck, the street lights had an eerie, dream-like quality.
`And how did you know where to find me?' Tweed asked.
`Had you both followed to the Hauptbahnhof in Hamburg. My man watched you board the Copenhagen Express. First stop Lubeck. A phone call to police HQ here at Lubeck-Sud. Your hotel registration comes through. The Jensen..
`And what has happened at Travemunde?' Newman interjected.
`Another horrific murder of a foreign blonde girl. Rape and then sheer butchery. Found in the woods on Priwall Island. A Swedish girl. Another foreigner. That makes it Federal business.'
`You keep saying 'another',' Newman commented.
`Six months ago in Frankfurt a Dutch girl was found in the early hours of the morning on the banks of the river Main. Same modus operandi – if you can dignify such manic frenzy with the term…'
`Could you be a little more specific?' Tweed pressed.
`Good job you've just had your dinner. All right, let's get a little more specific. First, both are blonde girls. This maniac slaughters them with a broad-bladed knife – really cuts them to pieces like a butcher chopping a side of beef. Then, for God's sake, he rapes them. Out at Travemunde they're barring their doors, battening down the hatches at the marinas. Panic isn't the word for it.'
`Surely you're making a very general assumption,' Tweed persisted. 'Look at the distance between Frankfurt and here…'
`I had the dubious pleasure of seeing both corpses in the morgues. It's the same killer. So, now we check on who was in both cities at the time of the killings. Surprise, surprise! Both of you were…'
`That's a bit ridiculous,' Tweed said mildly.
`Puts me in a funny position, Tweed. Word comes from the lady at the top in London direct to Chancellor Kohl in Bonn. Would he allocate his best man to keep a fatherly eye on you…'
`Fatherly eye. Oh, for God's sake,' Tweed protested.
`Haven't finished.' Kuhlmann removed his cigar and grinned to lighten the atmosphere. 'Now I have you down on the list of suspects…'
`You can't be serious,' Newman broke in.
`I'm serious about checking who was in both places at the wrong time. All hotel registrations in Lubeck and Travemunde are now being collected up to send to Cologne. One hell of a job, but it has to be done. The Cologne computer then cross-checks with the list of people in Frankfurt six months ago. That way we should end up with something…'
`You hope,' said Newman.
`I hope,' Kuhlmann agreed. 'And now I have to get over to the morgue. The pathologist here works faster than that snail we had in Hamburg. I'll have a report by the morning…'
`When was the Travemunde murder committed?' Newman asked.
`First indications say last night. Some of the Wandervogel fanatics back-packing it through the woods found her middle of this morning. Girl by the name of Helena Andersen. Ring any bells?'
No. Should it?'
`Just that she happens to be the daughter of an ex-Cabinet Minister. So the lines are buzzing between Stockholm and Bonn. Let you know about that pathologist's report in the morning…'
Tweed had a couple of cognacs sent up from the bar after Kuhlmann left. He raised his glass to Newman, took a sip and set the glass down on a table.
`I'm getting to be a regular toper on this trip,' he remarked. `Are you thinking what I'm thinking9'
`Tell me what's inside your sceptical mind and we'll see.'
`Kuhlmann correctly placed us in the locations of both these ghastly murders. He doesn't know there is a third possible suspect to add to his list. Hugh Grey. He was in Frankfurt – that was the night he spilt whisky over my best suit. And when he came to see us at the Four Seasons in Hamburg over breakfast the topic of that murder in Frankfurt came into the conversation. I mentioned it myself.'
`The same thought crossed my mind. It could be worse than you realize. Mind you, it's a very long shot. I was there for a conference of the four newly-appointed sector chiefs. Not only was Hugh in Frankfurt. Harry Masterson and Guy Dalby attended the same meeting along with Erich Lindemann..
`But you spoke to Masterson on the phone from the, Hauptbahnhof here at midday. That was when Masterson warned you about The Cripple heading this way. And,' Newman reminded him, `Masterson was speaking from Vienna…'
`But it didn't sound like it. I told you it sounded far more like a local call.'
`Then there's Erich Lindemann.' Newman paused while he sipped at his cognac. `We only have his word he climbed aboard the express at Puttgarden. Supposing he did board the train at Lubeck just before it left?'
`Go on.'
`We didn't actually see Lindemann leave on the express when it rolled on to the train ferry prior to crossing the Baltic to Denmark. It was still in the station when I looked back as we walked out of sight of it along that country road…'
`Your scepticism is reaching unprecedented heights. Flights of fancy, Bob. To change the subject, I think tomorrow we might spy out the land at Travemunde before we attend Dr Berlin's party the day after.'
`It would be an ideal moment,' Newman replied.
`Ideal? I'm not with you…'
`That's because you're not a newspaper reporter. Think of the atmosphere out at Travemunde. A brutal, motiveless murder has occurred. Kuhlmann himself made a reference to the boat people battening down the hatches. They'll all be jumpy – but ready to talk their heads off about the murder to almost anyone. In daylight at any rate. There's a ghoulish element in human nature. I predict we'll get to know more people in a day than we would normally in a month.'
`You could be right. Well, we'll see…' Tweed's thoughts seemed to be miles away and he gave the impression of replying automatically.
`What's the matter?' Newman asked.
`Your flights of fancy. They're crazy, of course, but I find them disturbing. If by a million-to-one chance you
