tipped him generously and followed Klein inside. He moved close enough to the counter, hatless, to hear a reservation had been made in advance. The reception clerk addressed him as M. Andersen.
Klein glanced round as the porter took his case. Butler was studying a brochure he'd extracted from a display piece on the counter. He didn't think he'd been spotted; four more taxis had pulled up behind his own outside. He waited until the elevator had closed, then wandered over and watched the lights. Klein got off at Floor 12.
Butler went into the street to find a public phone booth, to call Park Crescent.
Klein sat in his bedroom, drinking mineral water, his case untouched. He wouldn't be staying here for more than a short time. He was going over his mental check list in his mind.
Chabot and Hipper. They would soon be in Brussels staying at the cafe Manuel in the Marolles. A safe enough spot for a short time. He just hoped Hipper would be able to control Chabot – who would undoubtedly wish to explore the city after being penned up at Larochette. Probably looking for a woman.
The Monk. Marler would soon be installed at the Hilton. There would be no problem with him. He could look after himself in any situation. Independent as the devil. A little too much so for Klein's liking.
Legaud and the stolen CRS command truck. Already in Holland at the appointed rendezvous outside Delft. By now the vehicle should be resprayed – unrecognizable and equipped with Dutch number plates stolen with a car – a car owned by a man away from his apartment on business.
Grand-Pierre's team of scuba divers. They would be coming back from their training in the remote north of Holland, assembling at Delft.
Spread out over the continent for weeks, even months, Klein was now concentrating his forces close to the target. Europort.
34
Jumbo jets were still flying into Hamburg Airport – each carrying a number of American passengers bound for the cruise liner Adenauer. The stately 50,000-ton ship with its twin squat funnels dwarfed the dock where a steady stream of taxis and limousines deposited men, women and children eager to start the great adventure.
Unlike other cruise liners plying the world the Adenauer was not one class. It had been designed on the model of pre-World War Two transatlantic leviathans. There was de-luxe class – with the most expensively furnished staterooms afloat. Below came first class. Below that second class. Each level had its own restaurant and was sealed off from other classes.
Texas millionaires, wearing Stetson hats, stood by the rails, watching the other passengers file aboard. The Captain had informed his First Officer there was even some of the 'quiet' money from Philadelphia. From these he'd chosen those honoured to sit at his table.
And even when the majestic queen of the seas sailed from Hamburg down the Elbe she would not yet have taken aboard her full complement of passengers. She would heave to in the North Sea to pick up from lighters further passengers. From Rotterdam.
The 500,000-ton tanker, Cayman Conqueror, fully loaded with oil for Europe, had left behind the balmy winds blowing off the shores of Africa. She was now proceeding north off the coast of France, heading for the English Channel.
Her master, Homer Grivas, had been warned he would arrive at the moment the Adenauer would be lying offshore, taking aboard passengers. It would take some skilful manoeuvring to bring his giant vessel into port but he was confident there would be no problem. He would make Europort at the agreed ETA.
Twenty miles astern of the Cayman Conqueror the 350,000-ton tanker, Easter Island, also proceeded on a steady course for the English Channel. Its master, Captain Williams, had given orders to keep a sharp lookout on the sophisticated radar system.
He had been informed not only about the Adenauer but also of the presence of the Conqueror sailing ahead of his vessel. It was important that the distance between the two tankers should not dose any further. Apart from that he was quite confident all would be routine. Europort could handle an incredible number of large ships.
Captain Luigi Salvi, skipper of the 10,000-ton freighter Otranto, out from Genoa, was sweating with anxiety. His radar operator had the Easter Island clearly on his 'scope, moving ponderously ahead of his own ship. He knew he'd have to keep 'in line' – allow the tanker to pass up the channel first, but this would mean late arrival, a fact he'd already reported to the Dutch authorities.
The trick was to stay as close to the tanker as regulations permitted, to cut down the delayed arrival to the minimum. He was carrying a cargo which bore a penalty clause for every hour of the delay.
On top of that, the Otranto was equipped to carry ten passengers, one of whom was a director of the line with his wife. The woman expected constant attention. Salvi was therefore constantly moving from his seat at the dinner table to check with the radar operator. He mopped sweat from his forehead. Keep cool, he told himself, you will only arrive at Europort a few hours late. Then he remembered that damned cruise ship, the Adenauer. This trip would require all his seamanship.
Trailing behind the Otranto three large container ships up from Africa steamed across the oil-like sea, leaving astern three fan-shaped wakes. Visibility was excellent at this point and their masters could see each other's vessels. They carried soya bean meal and were racing to be first to offload. Their three masters were equally annoyed by the presence dead ahead of the Otranto. If nothing changed it would be up to the harbour master at Europort to decide which would come ashore first.
The British Sealink ferry service was in normal operation plying between Harwich and the Hook of Holland – the port downriver from Rotterdam and opposite Europort.
The number of passengers varied with each ferry. But it never fell below two hundred souls. Often a ferry would be crammed with up to three hundred passengers. Sealink continued its shuttle, going about its lawful occasions.
**
The Dutch marine controllers at Europort – and the Hook of Holland – were well aware of the number of vessels approaching. They were in radio communication with each ship, they regularly received up-to-the-minute reports from their computers, they had no doubt at all they could handle the situation. This was Europort. The gateway to Europe.
35
Butler had to walk some distance to find a public phone box. He dialled the Park Crescent number. Monica came on the line. Butler sensed immediately she spoke she was in a state of tension.
'Harry, where is Tweed? I have to contact him urgently.'
'No idea. I'm calling from a street phone in Brussels. The last I saw of him he was in Luxembourg City. Findel Airport to be exact. With Bob Newman and Benoit…'
'I've tried to locate Benoit. No success. I have two very urgent messages for him.'
'Care to tell me? I'm pretty sure I've located Klein…'
'You have! Tweed will want that information, too. Give me a moment to think. You've enough money for the phone?'
'Bags of coins.'
Stupid question, Monica thought. Of course Butler would be prepared for any occasion. His quietness concealed a brain which was always looking ahead.
'Don't toll me if you'll regret it,' Butler warned.
That decided her. She first took the precaution of making absolutely sure who she was talking to – although
