The Man Who Went Up in Smoke

'Yes, go on.'

'And I took the car apart and hid the stuff. Theo couldn't figure out who you were, so we agreed that Ari should find out. The next day, Theo followed you to those baths. He phoned Ari from there and she went and watched for you outside. Then Theo saw you together with that guy in the pool. Afterward he followed the other guy and saw him go into the police station. So it was obvious. All that afternoon and evening we waited and nothing happened. We figured you hadn't said anything yet or else the police would already have been there. Then Ari came back during the night.'

'What had she found out?'

'I don't know, but it was something. She just said, 'Fix that bastard, and quick.' She was in a bad mood. Then she went into her room and slammed the door behind her.'

'Oh?'

'Next day we watched you all the time. We were in a hell of a situation. We had to keep you quiet before you went to the police. We didn't get a chance and had almost given up hope when you went out in the night. Theo followed you across the bridge and I drove around with the car across the other bridge, Lane-hid. Then we changed over. Theo didn't dare do it. And I'm the strongest. I've always looked after my body.'

He fell silent for a moment then said appealingly, as if this were some excuse, 'We didn't know you were the police.'

Martin Beck did not reply.

'Are you a policeman?'

'Yes, I'm a policeman. Let's go back to Alf Matsson. You said that you met Mm through Miss Boeck. Had they known each other long?'

'Awhile. Ari had been on some athletic team in Sweden, swimming, and she met him there. Then she wasn't allowed to swim any more, but he looked her up when he came here.'

'Are Matsson and Miss Boeck good friends?'

'Fairly.'

'Do they often have intimate relations with each other?'

'Do you mean do they sleep together? Of course.'

'Do you sleep with Miss Boeck too?'

'Of course. When I feel like it. Theo too. Ari is a nymphomaniac. There's not much you can do about it. Obviously Matsson slept with her when he was here. Once we all three had a go at her, in the same room. Ari does anything in that line. Otherwise she's a good girl.'

'Good?'

'Yes, she does what you tell her. As long as you fuck her now and then. I don't do it so much now. It's not really very good for you to do it too much. But Theo is always at it. So he's got no energy for anything.'

'Have you never quarreled with Matsson?'

'About Ari? She's nothing to fight over.'

'But about other things?'

'Not about business. He was good at the business.'

'Otherwise then?'

'Once he kicked up such a fuss I had to smack him. He was drunk at the time, of course. Then Ari took him in hand and calmed him down. That was a long time ago.'

'Where do you think Matsson is now?'

Radeberger shook his head helplessly.

'I don't know. Here somewhere.' 'Didn't he associate with other people here?' 'He just came, collected his consignment and paid. And then he did some kind of magazine article to make it all watertight. Three or four days later he went back.'

Martin Beck sat silently for a while, looking at the man who had tried to kill him.

'I think that'll do now,' he said, switching off the tape recorder.

Evidently the German still had something on his mind.

'Say, that business yesterday… Can you forgive me?' 'No. I can't. Good-bye.'

He made a sign to the policeman, who rose, took Radeberger by the arm and led him toward the door. Martin Beck watched the blond Teuton thoughtfully. Then he said, 'One moment, Herr Radeberger. This is nothing to do with me personally. Yesterday you tried to murder a person to save your own skin. You had planned the murder as best you could and it was no thanks to you that it didn't succeed. That's not only illegal, but it's also a breach of a basic rule of life and an important principle. That's why it's unforgivable. That's all. Think about it.'

Martin Beck rewound the tape, put it into the cassette and returned to Szluka.

'I think you're probably right. Perhaps they haven't killed him.'

'No,' said Szluka. 'It doesn't seem like it. We've got all the stops out now, looking for him.'

'So have we.'

'Has your assignment become official yet?'

'Not so far as I know.'

Szluka scratched the back of his neck.

'Peculiar,' he said.

'What?'

'That we can't locate him.'

Half an hour later, Martin Beck returned to his hotel. It was already time for dinner. Dusk fell over the Danube, and on the other side of the river he saw the quay and the stone wall and the steps.

21

Martin Beck had just finished dressing and was on his way to the dining room when the telephone rang.

'From Stockholm,' said the telephone operator. 'A Mr. Eriksson.'

The name was familiar to him: it was Alf Matsson's boss, the editor in chief of the aggressive weekly.

A pompous voice came over the line.

'That's Beck, is it? This is Eriksson, the editor in chief here.'

'This is Inspector Beck.'

The man ignored this and went on. 'Well, as you are probably aware, I know all about your assignment. I was the one to put you on the track. And I've good connections with the Foreign Office, too.'

So his hideous namesake had not been able to keep his mouth shut either.

'Are you still there?'

'Yes.'

'Perhaps we'd better be a little careful what we say, if you know what I mean. But first I must ask: have you found the man you're looking for?'

'Matsson? No, not yet.'

'No clue at all?'

'No.'

'It's absolutely unheard-of.'

'Yes.'

'Well, how can I put it now… How's the atmosphere down there?'

'It's hot. A little misty in the mornings.'

'What d'you say? Misty in the mornings? Yes, I think I understand. Yes, exactly. Now, however, I think the tune has come when in all good conscience we can't keep this thing under wraps any longer. Why, what's happened is perfectly incredible—it could lead to dreadful things. We have a great responsibility for Matsson personally too. He's one of our best people, an excellent man, thoroughly honest and loyal.

I've had him on my general staff for a couple of years now, and I know what I'm talking about.'

'Where?'

'What?'

'Where have you had him?'

'Oh, that. On my general staff. We say that, you know. Editorial general staff. I know what I'm talking about. I'd stake my life on that man and that makes my responsibility even greater.'

Martin Beck stood thinking about something else. He was trying to imagine what Eriksson looked like.