'I wonder where Litov is now?' she said.
'Let's go upstairs and find out.'
The cobbled yard was small. It was entirely enclosed by old six-storey buildings. The rooms overlooking the courtyard were the property of Telescope, held in a dummy name by the Baron de Graer. The only other vehicle in the yard was the butcher's van, already refuelled from the petrol pump in the corner and turned round so it could leave immediately.
Henderson was sitting in a functional first-floor room. In one corner a wireless operator wearing his earphones sat in front of a high-powered transceiver. The Scot, who stood up as they entered, had been sitting at a table facing a large wall map of northern Europe. On the map he had marked all the possible air, road and rail routes from Brussels Midi with a red felt-tipped pen.
'What are the little blue pins?' Louise asked.
'Each one shows a gunner I can contact by radio or phone inside three minutes.'
'There are scores of them!'
'Only wish I had more,' the Scot replied laconically. He looked at Beaurain. 'The moment of truth has arrived. Litov, code-named Leper, is at Brussels Midi. He has made one two-minute phone call. He bought a T.E.E.. ticket for Amsterdam. Train leaves 9.43.' He looked at a large wall-clock. 'That's about now.'
Serge Litov played it cagey from the moment he returned to the platform. Carrying his ticket, he went up to the special T.E.E.. Board which illustrated the sequence of the carriages. Voiture 3 was immediately behind the engine.
From behind his newspaper Max Kellerman who was leaving Litov to do the moving about while he remained in one place watched him carefully study the ticket and then the board. It was a pantomime for the benefit of watchers.
In his mind Kellerman went over the stops the express made before arriving at Amsterdam. Brussels Nord, Antwerp East, Roosendaal, Rotterdam and The Hague. At all these stops Henderson would already have arranged to have a gunner stationed in case he got off. Kellerman's job was to stay on board until Amsterdam. The T.E.E. glided in, five de-luxe coaches preceded by its streamlined locomotive. The express stopped.
Litov climbed aboard Voiture 3 the moment the automatic doors had opened, pushing rudely past a woman waiting to alight. It was the old trick: wait until just before the automatic doors closed and then jump back onto the platform — leaving your shadow on board, carried away by the train. But Litov reappeared, descended the steps and stood on the platform. What the hell was he up to? Kellerman had one eye on Litov, the other on the red second-hand on the platform clock.
Behind him Alphonse strolled into view and took up a position on the opposite platform. Kellerman climbed aboard, joining a woman who was a late arrival, so they looked like a couple. Once inside the coach he sat down in a seat near the entrance to the next coach, Voiture 3.
There is no warning when a T.E.E.. express is due to depart; no call from the guard, no whistle blowing. The doors close, the train draws out of the station. Litov, watching the second-hand on the clock, timed it perfectly. He ran up the steps into the coach a second before the doors met.
'Triple bluff,' said Kellerman to himself as the train pulled out.
The next stop, Brussels Nord, was only a few minutes away. Would Litov get off after only one station, despite booking all the way to Amsterdam? Because from Brussels Nord he could catch a train or a cab to the airport. Kellerman could have relaxed now. His assignment was to stay on board all the way to Amsterdam. Instead he sat tensely, trying to put himself inside Litov's mind, to predict how he would react at Brussels Nord.
Inside the temporary headquarters for Operation Leper the tension was rising. Louise kept pacing up and down in the small room. Beaurain sat down next to Henderson, the picture of relaxation as he lit a cigarette. They had done all they could. It was up to the men in the field.
'Who have you got aboard the train?' he asked.
'Max Kellerman. He can be a bit insubordinate.'
'He's among the best we've got. Uses his brain.' He stopped as the phone rang. Henderson picked up the receiver and spoke briefly in French.
'That was Louis. The Leper boarded at Midi. So he has started to run. All we can do now is wait for the next message.'
At 9.53 the T.E.E.. slid into Brussels Nord station and the doors hissed open. This was a two-minute stop. Max Kellerman had made up his mind. He was standing at the exit of his coach furthest away from Voiture 3.
Kellerman was not recognisable as the man who had boarded at Midi. He had taken off his hat and light raincoat and put them inside his suitcase. He had donned a pair of glasses. His thick thatch of dark hair, previously hidden beneath the hat, was now visible.
Alighting from the express he glanced to his left, saw no sign of Litov and swung round to give the impression of a passenger about to board the train. In his mouth he had a cigarette and he was deliberately making the gas lighter misfire: it gave a reason for pausing at the foot of the steps.
'He's going to get off at Nord and head for the airport,' Kellerman had decided during his few minutes on the train. 'After his confinement he'll be impatient, anxious to reach home base. I would be.'
He was disobeying his orders. On no account was he to leave the train before Amsterdam. Kellerman was relying on his observation of how Litov had handled his problem at Midi. And if he was continuing to Amsterdam he would surely have pretended to be leaving the express here — by getting off and loitering near the exit doors.
The German found himself watching the platform clock. In ten seconds the doors would close. Nine-eight- seven-six… Litov had fooled him. He was staying aboard. At the last moment Litov rushed down the train steps, onto the platform and hurried towards the station exit. No-one could have got out in time to follow him. Kellerman smiled grimly and strode towards the exit.
There he saw Joel Wilde, the ex-SAS gunner Henderson had sent to Nord for just this contingency. Kellerman outranked him. 'He's mine,' he said as he walked past.
He was through the doors in time to see Litov leaving the station on the far side of the booking-hall. He came up behind him as the Russian waited for the next cab. 'The airport. Move it,' Litov informed the driver and climbed into the back.
He was so confident he had overlooked the obvious precaution of waiting until he was inside the cab to give his destination. It was out of character. Or was it? They had been careful to keep Litov without food for the past twenty-four hours, giving him only fruit juice. He could be light-headed and over-confident. Or that phone call from Brussels Midi could have arranged back-up to any shadow who attached himself to Litov when he left the express. If so, Joel would sort that one out.
Kellerman glanced over his shoulder before climbing inside the next cab which drew up. Joel Wilde was close behind him. You never heard the bastard until it was too late. Kellerman lowered the window and looked up at him.
'Thanks for everything. I'm going to make the airport in good time.'
'You're welcome. Our love to Sharon. A smooth flight.'
Joel watched the cab pull away and turned round to face the station exits. No-one else was coming for a cab. No-one was heading for a private car. But during the next few hours the Syndicate would send someone to take out any man they detected following Litov.
I'll chew his balls off.'
At the headquarters of Operation Leper, Henderson put down the phone, caught Louise Hamilton's amused eye and clapped a hand over his mouth.
'That was Joel Wilde from Nord station. The Leper left the express — as you thought he might — and has taken a cab to the airport. More to the point, Max Kellerman is running his own railway again. He got off too and he's followed the Leper in another cab to the airport.'
'Max is a good man, one of our best,' Beaurain commented.
'Where is the Leper heading for?'
Henderson stood up and went over to study the air routes marked on his wall-map. He moved a blue pin — Max Kellerman — to a position on the road to the airport. Just ahead of this he placed the red pin representing Serge Litov.
Beaurain joined him and checked his watch against the wall-clock. 'You'll hear soon enough. Get someone
