'Makes sense.' Benoit peered out of the front window where a police car with three uniformed men had stopped. 'The locals have arrived. We can get them moving on the search.'
Paula had been standing with her right hand crooked, studying her fingernails. A mannerism Tweed had already become familiar with: an idea had struck her. Paula frowned as she recalled the A Vendre estate agent's board outside another cottage in the village. She caught Tweed's eye. He nodded again.
'Excuse me,' Paula said, 'but I've been thinking of the sort of place they might be holding Martine and her son. Not too far away, I'd guess – the risk of being spotted by a local in a car would be too great.'
'Makes sense,' Benoit agreed. 'Do go on.'
'I've often thought the ideal place to hold a kidnapped person would be in a house for sale. The kidnapper could find a suitable empty house, call on the agent, say he agreed the price, pay a deposit, but it would take a while to get it surveyed. It's then completely at the kidnapper's disposal.'
'Ingenious. Very.' Benoit looked at Paula with admiration, turned to Tweed. 'If Miss Grey ever wants a job with us here in Belgium I'm sure I could oblige.'
'Thank you. There's something else,' Paula persisted. 'It has to be a suitable place, I said. By which I mean a property remote from the road – and preferably already equipped with facilities to turn a part of it into a prison. Maybe a room with a child's nursery – with bars already on the windows. Or perhaps something even more specialized – some property that's been on the market a while.'
'Better and better.' Benoit rubbed his hands. 'I'll just go and instruct those men coming down the path. Back soon.'
Tweed waited until they were alone. 'Quick, ask Newman to join me. And tell Butler to hold that Joris woman's attention in the kitchen. I'm sure she doesn't understand English. Speak rapidly…'
Sonnet had followed Lasalle into the front garden where they were talking to the new arrivals. Tweed held the Luxair brochure in his hand when Newman arrived with Paula. This is what I found almost under the bed upstairs. I think the abductor dropped it out of his pocket, Martine saw it, kicked it under the bed. One thing I'd bet money on – Klein sent one of his thugs to do the job.'
'What makes you think that?' asked Newman as he studied the brochure.
'Klein would never have let Martine get away with the signals she left us. The unwashed dishes in the sink, the rumpled bed, this brochure. He's sharp as a knife…'He grimaced at the simile. 'Well, we know how he uses knives.'
'This brochure points to Luxembourg City…'
'And Peter Brand has a branch of his Banque Sambre there. We haven't the time – but I think we'd better go there now. Benoit may let us use the Alouette… Talk of the devil.'
Benoit came into the room, spread his hands. 'Good news and bad. Sonnet has heard over his radio a forensic team arrived aboard the Gargantua. But it could be days before a report lands on my desk in Paris. The corpse of Broucker is glued in by heavy mud. At least they've made a start.'
'And the bad news?'
'Telephone strike here in Belgium – overtime ban officially. Which makes phoning from lock to lock difficult – to locate the Erika. I've organized a team of police cyclists to ride the towpaths. It siows down the check.'
'Why not start at the far end?' Tweed suggested.
'Which is the far end? Where was the Erika bound for?'
'You have a point,' Tweed admitted. 'I have a favour to ask. Could we borrow the Alouette to fly us to Luxembourg City?'
'Ah! You're on to something. Only on condition I fly with you. There's close cooperation between the Luxembourg and Belgian police. I might even come in handy.'
'You're most welcome. Has the search started for that poor girl Marline and her son? You do see how it all begins to link up? Haber had carried out some commission for Klein – transporting the stolen bullion, I'm sure. Then he'd had enough – possibly when Klein asked him to transport those timers aboard the Erika. But Klein, the clever bastard, had foreseen Haber might kick up. So first he arranges for one of his minions to kidnap Haber's family. With that hanging over his head Haber has to do anything Klein demands – even including standing by when Klein murders his employee, Broucker. Someone else had become expendable – this time Broucker. The track record shows how Klein deals with anyone he no longer needs.'
'He must be a fiend incarnate,' Benoit mused.
'Oh, he's all of that. Can we get moving? One of those cars could take us back to Dinant – where the chopper is.'
Klein was livid with rage. In Brussels he had just visited the Banque Sambre headquarters in the Avenue Louise to see Peter Brand.
'Mr Brand is in Luxembourg City,' the attractive receptionist informed him. 'He flew there in his executive jet this morning. Can I take a message for…'
'When is he expected back?'
'He will be at his office in Luxembourg City all day. You could phone him…'
'But I can't because there is a phone strike,' Klein said harshly.
'I am really very sorry, sir. Who shall I say called?'
She was talking to the air. The visitor, wearing a smart grey business suit had walked off to the entrance with long strides. Klein had changed from the black outfit with the wide-brimmed hat he had often worn in France. There he had frequently been mistaken for a priest. Which had been his intention; like a postman, he merged with the landscape and was forgotten within minutes of being noticed.
He hailed a cab in the Avenue Louise, told the driver to take him to Brussels Midi, and forced himself to relax. In his mind he was recalling from his phenomenal memory the times of the trains to Luxembourg City. If the cab kept moving he'd just be in time to catch the express which went on to Basle.
Arriving at Midi, he hurried to the ticket counter, bought a first-class return, checked the departure board and ran up the steps. He sank into the seat of an empty compartment as the express began to move.
He never made advance appointments with anyone -they were dangerous because they forecast your movements. But Brand had told him he would be available at the Banque Sambre. It had never occurred to Klein he might mean the branch in Luxembourg City. And he was puzzled what Brand was doing in that part of the world - the last place he wanted attention drawn to.
31
The Alouette flew in brilliant sunshine on a south-easterly course bound for Luxembourg City. Tweed sat with Newman, a map spread across their laps, while Benoit chatted with Butler in front. Butler stared down through the window at the corrugated landscape of wooded ravines and ridges which were the Ardennes.
'According to your markings on that map we're flying in the wrong direction,' Newman observed.
'So it would seem,' Tweed agreed.
The unfolded map of Western Europe carried route markings in felt-tip ink, markings which ended in bold arrows pointing north, always north.
One route began at Marseilles and proceeded north direct to Paris. From where Klein had hired the explosives expert, Chabot – and where Chabot's girl friend, Cecile Lament, the bar girl, had been dragged from the sea with her throat cut.
A second route started at Geneva, went on to Basle, continued to Dinant and up the Meuse to Namur. Tweed had added a dotted line from Namur, following a circuitous route to Antwerp. Newman pointed to this.
'What does that suggest?'
'It looks like Antwerp. You want facts? Lara Seagrave ended her photographic expeditions in Antwerp – before returning to Brussels – only a short train ride from the port. I am also convinced that missing barge is carrying the timers to the target. Follow the Meuse, see how you can branch off it north of Liege along the Albert Canal – direct to where? Antwerp.'
'So why are we flying south – away from the possible target area?'
'Because of that brochure I found in Marline's cottage. It was folded to the Cargolux page – as I showed you.
