Earlier at the Europe Hotel situated off the Nevsky Prospekt there had been more dissatisfaction as all visitors had been moved out of their rooms to other hotels at a moment's notice. No explanation had been given as squads of KGB agents moved in to replace the normal staff.
Now the Europe resembled more a fortress than a hotel with special squads of agents checking the identity of everyone who approached the entrance. Guards patrolled all the corridors and armed men displayed their presence aggressively. First Secretary Brezhnev was in town. His announced purpose was to visit Leningrad.
His real purpose was to confer with his protege, Viktor Rashkin.
'So,' Leonid Brezhnev continued, 'the Stockholm Syndicate can be said to be flourishing?'
'We can say more than that,' Rashkin announced confidently, his manner totally lacking in the usual servility shown to the master of the Soviet Union. 'We can say that we have now placed puppets under our control in most of the key positions in Western Europe — chairmen of huge industrial concerns, heads of transport systems, controllers of some of the great banks and — above all — certain cabinet ministers. By involving them — through one method or another — in the Syndicate, we have compromised them so all they can do is to obey our instructions.'
'A takeover without war, a takeover which is invisible and not even seen by the masses to have taken place!' Brezhnev's tone expressed his immense satisfaction with what he obviously regarded as a great victory.
'It is like Hitler's Fifth Column practised on a far vaster scale,' Rashkin commented.
'These three men you found who form the directorate — Berlin in Bruges, Horn in Copenhagen and Norling in Stockholm. Why are they needed?'
Rashkin prevented a sigh of exasperation escaping. This was caused by the First Secretary's advancing years — his infuriating habit of changing the subject for no apparent reason. Yet oddly it was combined with a flair for remembering an extraordinary amount of detail over a vast range of projects. You had to watch the old boy underestimate him and he'd catch you out in the flick of a horse's tail. And that, Rashkin reminded himself grimly, only happened once. He explained crisply, careful not to appear patronising.
'These three men are essential. Each controls a certain geographical sector — Berlin, the Mediterranean up to the mouth of the Rhine, Horn the United States…'
'Yes, yes, I remember that bit.'
'So any member of the Syndicate in that sector cooperates with the sector commander, who is a West European. This camouflages totally the fact that real control is in our hands.
'How do you explain to them why the conference is taking place aboard a Soviet vessel the hydrofoil, Kometa?'
A shrewd point. But oh God, we have gone all through this before! Rashkin smiled to relax himself. 'They already believe that much of the Syndicate's profits will come from, surreptitious dealings in the proceeds from crime inside the Soviet Union, that there are Soviet members of the Syndicate!'
'Good, good, Comrade!' Brezhnev smiled slyly, leaned forward and squeezed Rashkin's shoulder. The younger man guessed what was coming next and was not disappointed. 'Now, what about a few of your impersonations to cheer up an old Bolshevik who has to sit all day long staring at sour faces For a start, why not our esteemed Minister of Defence, Dimitri Ustinov?'
A moment later he began to laugh out loud: in that short space of time Rashkin's acting genius had transformed him into a different human being. He had become Marshal Dimitri Ustinov.
Attempt on Life of Security Chief Fails.
'God damn it, what crazy maniac acted without my orders and committed this supreme idiocy? And if ever there was a time we do not want anything like this it is now! Now! Now! Now! Do you hear me? Well, why don't you say something instead of standing there like a whore on a street corner?' Rashkin demanded. Karnell grabbed a decorative plate from the wall and hurled it at him. It shattered on the side of his head — and when he put his hand up it came away streaked with blood.
Rashkin looked at Sonia Karnell and took a handkerchief from his pocket with the other hand. He wiped the blood from his fingers, his manner suddenly frigidly calm. While talking he had been raving like a madman, shouting at the Swedish girl as though it were all her fault.
'It was a bumpy ride back from Leningrad,' he told her. 'The turbulence was most unusual.'
'The turbulence since you arrived has not only been unusual,' she said viciously. ' It has been unbearable. Do you hear me, Viktor Rashkin? ' she suddenly screamed at the top of her voice. 'And the plate I broke over your stupid head was your present to me,'
'I know.'
'I just wanted to make sure you know because I'm glad. Do you hear me, you pimp? I'm glad.'
Her well-defined bosom was heaving with passion and her white face was a mask of rage. His reaction, as always, was unexpected and disarming. He sat down on a sofa, lit two cigarettes and offered her one.
'The newspaper story disturbed me,' he remarked mildly. 'Coming on the eve of the conference when we want everything peaceful with nothing to disturb our influential guests. Such men and women like to live without any publicity. There is only one solution, Sonia.'
Karnell played with the large diamond ring he had given her and waited for his next pronouncement. She had asserted her independence; Viktor despised and mistrusted all those who played up to him. She had by now learned how to handle this brilliant and strange man.
'We quietly wipe out Beaurain's organisation, starting at once,' he decided. 'We now have plenty of troops in Stockholm, including Gunther Baum.'
'But how are you going to find them? We know Beaurain and his tart are at the Grand but the rest?'
'Our people will call discreetly at all major hotels in the city. They will check on any new arrivals during the past week. They should not be difficult to identify we are
looking for Commando-style men, a number of whom we suspect previously belonged to the British terrorist SAS.'
'Who, of course,' she interjected sarcastically, 'are far worse than the KGB execution squads.'
'I must leave now. You can alert our people and get the search under way at once. Gunther Baum is to be put in charge of both search and subsequent liquidations as many of them as possible to look like accidents. I am going to the house to collect all the folders before the conference commences aboard Kometa.'
One of those old-fashioned houses… Gables and bulging windows like they used to build… must be at least fifty years old…
Stig Palme recalled the description the murdered locksmith had given him of the house in the country where he had seen Dr. Theodor Norling.
'At least I assume it was Norling,' Palme continued while Beaurain, Harry Fondberg and Louise Hamilton listened to him as they sat eating lunch in the Opera House restaurant. It was a convenient meeting-place because it was close to the Grand Hotel and was quiet. No-one occupied a table anywhere near them.
'It's all right, Stig,' Beaurain assured the Swede, 'I'm damned sure it was Norling. He was personally attending to organising another of the Syndicate's 'demonstrations'. Don't forget poor Erika was supposed to have committed suicide but other members of the Syndicate would have known better. Now, Harry, this raid on the house in the country, which Stig can locate for us. Can it be soon? And a combined operation between my people and Sapo. Unofficially, of course?'
'It can be today!' Fondberg announced and took a deep puff on his cigar to show his satisfaction at the prospect of action.
Six cars were moving along the E3 highway beyond the outskirts of Stockholm and out in open country. Palme had been chosen to lead the assault convoy because he was Swedish, and because he knew the location of the house which the dead locksmith, Tobias Seiger, had described. In the second vehicle Jules Beaurain sat behind the wheel of his Mercedes which Albert had driven to Stockholm.
'You really think this house could be the HQ of the Stockholm Syndicate?' Louise asked as she peered eagerly out of the window.
'I'm guessing — but it would fit the basic requirements of a headquarters from Stig's own recollection of the place. Hugo won't want anywhere in Stockholm. It's OK for Theodor Norling to have his apartment in Gamla Stan I think Norling just meets people there, just like Otto Berlin meets people in Bruges.'
'In mobility they find safety?'
