Back into the centre of Copenhagen? In her rear-view mirror Louise had seen the couple, the man with the suitcase and the dark-haired girl, come out of the house and climb into the front of the van delivered by the man in the boiler suit.
She had observed that the girl climbed in behind the wheel, that the man clutched the suitcase, casting a quick glance up and down the street and a final look over his shoulder before climbing into the cab as passenger. The final look over his shoulder had been in the direction of the nearest fishing vessel moored to the quay. On the deck stood a seaman looping a cable for no very obvious reason.
Was he a guard who watched the house for the occupants? Who would look twice at a seaman? Louise felt sure there had been a signal exchanged between the girl's companion and the sailor. To her relief the seaman immediately went below deck as the van was leaving. He would not be there to see her own departure.
She set off as soon as the van had disappeared round the corner. The word Helsingor was obviously a blind: wherever she tracked the van to it would not be Elsinore. There was very little traffic about at this late hour so she was able to follow the red lights of the van at a distance. Was the passenger who had clutched the case so possessively Dr. Benny Horn? She shrugged; Jules had taught her the futility of wasting energy speculating to no purpose.
After driving through a district of wealthy suburbs they came out onto the coast road. On her right the dark waters of the Oresund rippled placidly by the light of the moon. There were the coloured navigation lights of an occasional vessel passing up or down the Sound.
The van and the shadowing Citroen were travelling north. Louise knew that with the sea on her right there was only one route they could be taking — and that route took them to Elsinore! Could the name on the van be a piece of double bluff? Or was Dr. Benny Horn running an apparently legitimate business which had offices in Copenhagen and Elsinore? Jules had repeatedly said idle speculation was a waste of time.
My God! Jules — he would be doing his nut back at the Royal Hotel! She hadn't managed to inform him where she was or what she was doing. It couldn't be helped; the van ahead was almost the only link Telescope had left with the Stockholm Syndicate.
'Have it out with Jules later,' she told herself. 'And just hope to God following this van turns out to be worthwhile. Then he can't say one damned thing,'
It was one o'clock in the morning when the phone rang in Beaurain's bedroom. Kellerman had fallen asleep in a chair instead of returning to his own room. Beaurain had just checked the empty coffee pot with an expression of disgust. He grabbed for the receiver, almost knocking the instrument on the floor in his haste. It was Louise.
'I'm going to talk fa st, Jules,' he understood her meaning: at night, hotel operators, bored and idle, had been known to listen in on calls. 'I'm in Elsinore you've got that?'
'Yes,' he said tersely.
'The girl at the reception counter took me to the place where Max was a few hours ago. On Nyhavn.'
'Understood.'
'She drove a man in a van with the word Helsingor on the side — nothing else, just the name — to Elsinore. He's hugging a suitcase like a gold-brick. Just south of the town they have stopped at a house which backs onto the rail track. There are shunting yards and loaded freight cars. Two have a large consignment of what looks like compressed paper — packing materials.'
'Got you.'
She was gabbling on, throwing all sorts of details at him irrespective of whether they seemed significant to her. He understood what she was doing exactly; they had used the same technique before.
'My position is a bit exposed. I'm actually inside Elsinore and no-one's about at this hour. The only hotel I've seen is closed.'
Position exposed. She was signalling danger to him. Beaurain recalled the chairman of the Banque du Nord who had warned him about the Zenith signal. He told her to hold the line for a second. Checking a map of Denmark, he picked up the receiver.
'Still there? Can you drive north out of the place a few miles?'
'Yes, I'd drive back to Copenhagen but I'm short of petrol.'
He gave her the name of a tiny place on the coast, instructed her how to get there by road. 'You drive down to the beach, Louise, and wait there with your headlights pointed out to sea. At fifteen minute intervals precisely commencing on the hour you flash your lights six times at five second intervals. Henderson will be coming to collect you himself.'
'From the sea?'
'From Firestorm in a small motor-boat. Now, have you got it?'
'I'm leaving at once.'
She broke the connection. No prolonged conversation, no asking of a dozen questions which flooded into her tired mind. Just obey orders. And something in Jules' tone had said, get the hell out of there fast. Inside his bedroom, high up in the Royal Hotel, Beaurain replaced the receiver and looked at Kellerman who still sat upright in his chair.
'She's followed two people to Elsinore one is the girl, Black Helmet, the other could be Benny Horn — who, incidentally, was carrying a suitcase. I'm guessing because there was no time to ask her for descriptions. I think she's in danger. I just hope Henderson reaches her in time.'
He put in another call to the address near Brussels Midi station from where, earlier, Henderson had directed the watching operation on Serge Litov. As he had anticipated, it was Monique who answered the phone. She had taken over control of the command centre in Brussels. In as few words as possible he told her the signal to be sent to Jock Henderson aboard Firestorm, now somewhere just north of Elsinore. He replaced the receiver again and yawned loudly.
Time you caught up on your sleep,' Kellerman suggested. 'You take my room and I'll wait here for Monique to phone back.'
'Thanks, but I can't sleep until I know Louise is safe aboard Firestorm. You go get some sleep.'
'You think I'll sleep until I know she's safe?' the German demanded.
Beaurain grunted tiredly and grinned. Then he sighed.
'It's just that I'm not sure how far the tentacles of this octopus, the Stockholm Syndicate, spread. De Graer shook me: they've threatened his niece now so how far can we really trust him? How far can we trust anyone? That's why our first call in the morning will be on an old friend of mine, Superintendent Bodel Marker of Danish police Intelligence. He runs his outfit from police headquarters. That's only ten minutes away. He's dependable.'
'Of course, they do know we're here — I'm sure that girl spotted your name in the hotel register.'
'So, we look out for two men — one dressed like an American, the other carrying a brief-case, the brief- case containing the killer's gun.'
*
Inside the house on the outskirts of Elsinore, Dr. Benny Horn sat polishing his glasses as he watched Sonia Karnell making up her face. The room was smartly furnished with modern pieces, the walls freshly painted in white; the heavy drapes masking the windows were pulled closed.
'Do you have to keep fiddling with those glasses?' Karnell asked irritably. 'What about that girl in the Citroen?'
'I'm thinking about her,' Horn replied mildly. 'Carl is watching her, and since he hasn't returned yet she must still be inside that phone booth.'
'But isn't it madness?' Karnell became more vehement the more she saw how calm Horn was. 'She is phoning the Telescope people to tell them where we are.'
'I sincerely hope so. My whole plan for destroying them is based on the knowledge that they followed Serge Litov to Copenhagen. You located our primary target, Beaurain, who will be destroyed when he leaves the Royal Hotel. Litov discovered the main Telescope base in England near Guildford — and we have people already searching the area. Now the girl may lead us to the remainder of Telescope's force on the European mainland.'
He broke off as a lean-faced man dressed inconspicuously in dark blue came silently into the room. 'Developments, Carl?'
