suicide! Had you understood Swedish you would have known I was speaking to the forensic expert who has already arrived at the Grand. I told him to send his report to me personally at the earliest possible moment. No- one else will be permitted to see it. I shall myself announce its findings to the international press now gathering here hoping for news of the 'business' conference. It will cause a bombshell!'
'The Syndicate will come after you,' Beaurain warned his old friend, but, he admitted privately to himself, he was also testing him. Such was the quicksand atmosphere of treachery and fear the unseen organisation had generated. Fondberg's reaction made him feel a little ashamed.
'Wrong, my friend. I am going after the Stockholm Syndicate! In committing this murder they have made a big mistake. They hoped their influence was strong enough to squash any attempt at a legitimate investigation. They overlooked the fact that I might intervene.'
Events moved at bewildering speed during the next few days. On receipt of Beaurain's urgent signal sent by Stig Palme from a transceiver hidden in the basement of a house in the town of Strangnas, Captain 'Bucky' Buckminster left his anchorage off Copenhagen and proceeded south and east into the Baltic.
'We have to wait off the coast near Trelleborg,' he told Anderson, the chief pilot of the giant Sikorsky which they carried on the helipad. 'Just below the horizon so we cannot easily be seen from the Swedish shore.'
'Any exercises once we get there?' Anderson enquired.
'Yes. Intensive training with the power-boats and dinghies equipped with outboards in fact all the fleet of craft in the hold. Another activity Beaurain wants toned up is the training of frogmen in underwater warfare.'
'The Countess d'Arlezzo, president of the well-known group of banks, who was discovered hanging from the shower in the bathroom of her suite in the Grand Hotel was, in the opinion of the well-known pathologist, Professor Edwin Jacoby…'
Harry Fondberg, who was addressing a press conference called at very short notice — other reporters were still arriving, pushing their way into the crowded room was possessed of a certain dramatic sense which he now used to the full. Beaurain watched him from a position at the back of the room. Heads craned as the pause was stretched out. Most of the western world's leading newspapers, TV stations and magazines were represented.
'… was MURDERED!'
Pandemonium! The small plump chief of Sapo waited as men and women milled in the room — some already rushing for phones to catch editions about to go to press with the staggering announcement. The Countess d'Arlezzo's beauty had been compared with that of Sophia Loren; her business influence with that of Onassis. As the initial reaction subsided, Fondberg ruthlessly piled on the drama. Now it was too late for anyone to try and hold down the lid on the case. It was his first promised blow at the Stockholm Syndicate.
'In a moment Professor Jacoby will tell you his reasons for stating that in his opinion the alleged suicide was faked, could not have taken place in the way meant to fool the police. Or, shall we say, certain powerful criminal groups with international connections believed their influence was so great that no-one would ever dare reveal the truth?'
Louise whispered to Beaurain. 'God: That's really blasted the case wide open. Whoever Hugo is, he's going to go crazy!'
'That's Harry's tactic,' Beaurain murmured. 'He hopes that by throwing him off balance he'll provoke him into making yet another blunder. And listen to this!'
The questions were now coming like bullets as reporters fought to catch Fondberg's eye. High up on a platform, he selected his questioners for their influence. Someone ran onto the platform with a note — doubtless from some Minister. Fondberg waved the messenger away and stuffed the message unread inside his pocket.
'Are you saying the Countess was mixed up in criminal activities?' asked someone from Der Spiegel.
'I am saying she was being blackmailed and intimidated in a way which would only be used by animals.
I have the most reliable of witnesses that she was actually threatened with death in the form her murder took.'
'Your witness?'
'Would ex-Chief Superintendent Jules Beaurain of the Brussels anti-terrorist squad, previously in charge of Homicide, satisfy you?'
'Thank you. Yes!' said Der Spiegel.
'Christ!' Louise whispered. 'He's blowing the whole works.'
'And the one thing the Syndicate can't stand is publicity,' Beaurain whispered back. 'It's a dark evil creature which operates in the darkness.'
'Would you care to elaborate on the structure of these powerful criminal groups you refer to?' The Times — of London.
'Check up on likely personalities at present in Stockholm,' 'Names, we need names!' The New York Times.
'You are here! Do some of your own investigative work, may I suggest!'
'Leo Gehn has just arrived in the capital, I hear,' The New York Times.
'I have heard that also,' Fondberg replied blandly. 'Next question, please,'
'Who controls the international criminal groups you referred to in reply to an earlier question?' Le Monde of Paris.
There was a prolonged pause. Tension built up in the packed room as Fondberg, one arm supporting another, a hand under his chin, seemed to be considering whether to answer the question. One thing was clear and heightened the tension until the atmosphere became electric: the chief of Sapo did know the answer…
'A directorate of three men,' Fondberg spoke slowly and with great deliberation. As he paused again, the door next to Beaurain was pulled open. A man took three paces forward and stopped, holding a Smith amp; Wesson with both hands, the muzzle raised and aimed point-blank at Harry Fondberg.
Louise had a blurred impression of a short, burly figure wearing a boiler suit. Beaurain grabbed the man's wrist and elbow. There was a single explosion. The bullet fired in the tussle — which would have blown Fondberg off his feet — embedded itself in the ceiling. There was a shocked, incredulous hush which lasted several seconds, during which the only sound was the scuffle of feet as Beaurain overpowered the gunman. Uniformed guards were appearing in the hall beyond the open door. Beaurain hurled the would-be assassin with all his strength backwards into their arms.
'Check him for other weapons!' he snapped. 'Or do I have to do the whole damned job for you? He came within an ace of killing your boss.'
Chaos broke loose. The room erupted into movement as the mob of reporters stormed towards the doorways. Beaurain hauled Louise back out of the path of the turbulent crowd and pressed her back against the wall. In thirty seconds the room was occupied by only three people: Beaurain, Louise and Harry Fondberg.
The Swede jumped agilely from the platform and ran towards the Belgian, holding out his hand. 'For saving my life I can only say thank you,'
'We stage-managed that rather well. Maybe we should go into the theatrical business,' Beaurain whispered.
'I have the information you asked me to dig up on Dr. Theodor Norling's background before he came to Stockholm. It tells us nothing,' Fondberg informed his listeners.
Beaurain and Louise were sitting at a round table in the Sapo chief's office, eating hungrily from a selection of dishes which Fondberg had ordered from a nearby restaurant. Beaurain nodded at Fondberg's remark as the Swede studied the report without enthusiasm.
'It is the same with all these provincial police forces — they think we live the high life here and they can't even answer a civil request without grumbling at how busy they are,' 'Tell us what there is to know about Norling,' Beaurain suggested.
'Born in Gothenburg, his parents moved when he was seven years old to Ystad,' he looked at Louise. 'That is an old medieval port on the southern coast in the province of Skane. The people in Skane are very different.'
He might have been talking about the end of the world, as certain New Yorkers refer to the Deep South. Perhaps this was the Deep South of Sweden, Louise reflected. Fondberg continued reading from his folder.
'When I say Ystad I mean a small place close to it. The first thing Theodor Norling's parents did when they