Only when he was settled in the passenger seat, and Beaurain behind the wheel, was the Scot able to relax a little, to relay his information.
Beaurain started up the Mercedes 280E and began to follow a circuitous route which would take them out of the city to the south.
'Chap we grabbed was Serge Litov. I tailed him once in Paris.'
'They sent a Russian? It doesn't make sense,' Beau-rain said.
'Although we did hear he'd defected. Do we know who to?'
'I'd expected they might send Baum. He's even more dangerous.'
'Odd, isn't it?' Beaurain agreed.
'And how did your command post happen to be just at the right place?'
'Partly luck, partly reconnaissance. The gunners scoured the area and came up with a concealed Suzuki near that intersection. A powerful job and I guessed it might be the getaway machine. So I told Peters to shift the machine. Then we parked the van at the intersection. Seemed the obvious place. Are you all right, sir?'
'You know something, Henderson? For some reason I seem to be sweating.'
'That'll be the warm night, sir.'
'We may have left a little early.'
'I thought the plan was to get clear of the area and back to base as soon as we had the fish in the net.'
'No, I don't mean the van I mean you and I. Supposing Litov had succeeded, had killed me. And then you in turn killed him, which could easily have happened. The Syndicate must have foreseen that possibility. So, what would they do?'
'Leave someone in a position to observe what happened and report back.
But was there anywhere they could safely have placed a watcher?'
'In that restaurant opposite the side street.'
To let in more cool air Beaurain pressed the switch which slid back the sun-roof of his beloved 280E.
'Probably I'm wrong,' Beaurain concluded, and speeded up to overtake the van transporting Litov somewhere ahead of them. But he still couldn't forget the slim white arm of the girl extending her cigarette-holder towards a waiter. It bothered him that he hadn't seen her full face.
Chapter Two
Sitting by herself at the window table in the Auberge des Roses, Sonia Karnell had witnessed the violent events in the rue des Bouchers with the aid of her compact mirror. Constructed of the finest glass and always kept highly polished, the mirror was one of the tools of her trade. While all the other diners were enjoying their meal and noticing nothing, Sonia was giving an imitation of a vain thirty-year-old who could not stop looking at herself.
She watched the swift and decisive assault on Serge Litov. The murderous efficiency of Telescope's operation impressed Sonia and she decided she must include this in her report. She waited ten minutes and called for her bill.
As she left the restaurant, she ignored the admiring glances of several males. She walked rapidly to the hired Peugeot she had parked a quarter of a mile away. With the roads almost clear of traffic once outside the city, she reached her destination in under two hours.
Entering Bruges was like travelling back through a time machine five hundred years. The old city was a labyrinth of waterways and medieval streets and squares. Her nerves started to play up as she approached the Hoogste van Brugge. It was the man she had come to see who worried her. He did not take kindly to the bearers of bad tidings.
It was two in the morning when she parked the car and walked a short distance down a side street and then turned into the confined and cobbled alley which was the Hoogste van Brugge. Dr. Otto Berlin resided at No. 285 during his rare visits to Bruges.
As she used the key to open the heavy door of No. 285 Sonia Karnell never gave a thought to the building opposite.
The cine-camera equipped with an infra-red tele-photo lens was operated by a patient Reming. He started up the camera as soon as she approached the building although he then had no idea whether the dark-haired woman had any connection with No. 285. He kept it running until she had closed the door behind her. The windows opposite were masked by heavy curtains.
'It didn't work Litov failed. Worse still, Telescope captured him alive and took him away in a van they had ready waiting.'
Sonia was anxious to get over the worst at once, not knowing how her chief would react. Dr. Berlin sat behind a baize-covered table in a tiny room on the first floor. The only light came from a milky globe on the table, shaded with dark red cloth. She faced him across the table, her chair drawn up close to support her back. As he said nothing she went on talking, to appease him. Although a native of Stockholm, she was speaking in fluent French.
Telescope had men everywhere. I saw it all from the restaurant Litov told me to go to. Beaurain came up the street on foot again… it all seemed so innocent and natural… the van I hadn't taken any notice of, but that was where some of them were hidden… they poured out of it when Litov was about to shoot at point-blank range. Litov of all people! How could he walk into such a trap?'
'He didn't.'
Berlin was a fat man, no longer forty certainly but probably not sixty.
His greasy black hair hung across his forehead. He wore a dark moustache curved down to the sides of his mouth and his glasses had heavy rims and thick pebble lenses. He wore a pair of pigskin gloves.
He had replied to Karnell in the language she had been speaking. She stared in amazement at the reply.
'He didn't?' she repeated.
'But I'm sure it was Litov!'
'It was Litov,' Berlin agreed.
'Then if it was Litov I don't understand,' she burst out.
'His job was to kill Beaurain and escape.'
'No. His job was to infiltrate Telescope and locate its main base.
Only then can we mount a plan to destroy Telescope and all its works.'
'And Litov,' Karnell protested, 'having been taken to this base, simply has to observe its location, escape and come running back to us with the information? Litov, of course, will have no trouble escaping…'
Berlin leaned across the table. By the glow of the lamp his huge shadow loomed across the ceiling. He hit the side of her face with the back of his hand.
'Never speak to me in that tone again,' he said.
'It was just the shock of what you said,' she stammered.
'The fact that you had not trusted me.'
'You know how we work, my dear Sonia.' His voice was a soothing purr now, but still with the guttural accent which could not disguise completely the harsh menace he conveyed.
'Each knows only what is necessary to know to do his or her job at the time. I think we will leave now. You have parked the car in the T'Zand? Good. On the way we will warn the entire network to keep alert for Beaurain's next move.'
The blow to the side of her face had not really hurt her; it had been little more than a rather bear-like caress. Had Berlin really struck out, she would have ended up sprawled on the floor against the wall, possibly with her neck broken. He stood up and she wrinkled her nose at his soiled and crumpled suit. Berlin took two hand grenades from a cupboard, each of which he examined with care before depositing one in either jacket pocket. They were primed ready for use.
He led the way down the staircase, squeezing between banister rail and the peeling wall-plaster.
