It turns out that there was a Volvo 245 parked out of sight behind this house. Now you tell me the guy who peppered you with grenades before he took off in his float-plane was Dr. Theodor Norling. Are you sure?'
'There's nothing wrong with my eyesight,' Louise rapped back.
'Ed, I'm more interested,' Beaurain interjected, 'in who might be the killer who tried to wipe you out when you were sitting in that hired Renault off the highway.'
'No idea,' Cottel said brusquely.
'And who are all these watchers you keep occupied tracking the movements of Viktor Rashkin?' Beaurain persisted. 'You seem to have an obsession with the Russians.'
'Just with one Russian — because I'm convinced he fits in with the Stockholm Syndicate somewhere. I'll provide you with my record of those movements and see whether you can spot any pattern. As to my watchers — it's taken me God knows how long to build up a network of people throughout Scandinavia at all the airfields and seaports, people who've no idea who is employing them but like the money they get.' A dry smile wrinkled his tanned face. 'I guess Harvey Sholto would blow his top if he knew how I was using the funds I get from Washington. You've no idea how adept I've become at what we call creative accountancy.'
'What we call fiddling expenses,' Louise remarked.
'So now perhaps you understand,' the American continued, directing his remark to Beaurain with a hint of sarcasm, 'my obsession with the Russians.'
'No, frankly I don't. You seem to have forgotten that one of the Syndicate's own people deliberately murdered Serge Litov at Stockholm Central after he had served his purpose. Touche — you said the Russians fitted in with the Syndicate somewhere.'
To hell with you,' Cottel replied amiably.
'How much power does Harvey Sholto have in Washington?' Beaurain asked out of the blue.
'You don't mention his name — even favourably — if you want to keep your job on the government payroll. Officially he doesn't even exist.'
'I see,' the Belgian replied, and Louise wondered what he saw.
*
Harry Fondberg suggested that the entire Telescope force started back for Stockholm before the patrol-car he had summoned arrived. He was going to be the innocent bystander who had spotted the house exploding from the air while on another mission.
On the return journey Palme waited until they were well clear of Fondberg before producing something from inside his windcheater. 'You were right to ask me to check round where Norling took off in his float plane he commented to Beaurain. 'He must have been climbing into the cockpit when he dropped this and there was no time to go back for it.' 'This' was a slim red folder.
'Norling carried a brief-case,' Beaurain recalled. 'It looks as though at the wrong moment the case came open and in his haste to get away he never noticed. The brief-case looked pretty heavy, probably crammed with these folders.'
'Anything interesting?' Louise enquired.
'Give me time — I've only just released the security device. One surprise: the language used is English — or American. The spelling is American labor instead of labour.'
'It's a good thing Ed Cottel is travelling in one of the other cars,' Louise remarked. 'I think if he heard that remark he'd blow his top.'
'It might be a better thing than even you realise at this stage,' Beaurain replied cryptically, his eyebrows furrowed as he rapidly read through the sheets contained inside the folder. 'This is a little too damned convenient, isn't it? It could be a plant left behind deliberately. How come if it did drop out of his brief-case when he was climbing into a float-plane on the edge of a lake that the bloody thing isn't even wet?'
'Because,' Palme informed him smugly, 'I found it resting on the edge of an old bird's nest made of reeds and God knows what else — a big nest. And don't ask me what bird! I don't watch them.'
'OK, Stig. We can take it that this is genuine.'
'With Stig's discovery my own little contribution isn't going to rate very high in the history of Telescope discoveries,' Henderson said apologetically. 'I found it at the foot of the far side of the big crag behind the house from where Norling detonated all his explosive.'
Henderson handed his discovery to Beaurain who had turned in his seat and was staring fixedly at the object Henderson was holding. As though mesmerised he reached out a hand, took the object and held it in the open palm of his hand.
'What's so exciting about that?' Louise asked.
'Thank you, Jock,' Beaurain said slowly, balancing the object as though it were made of gold. 'You have just handed me the final key and proof I needed as to what the Stockholm Syndicate is really all about.'
'It's the broken-off heel of an elevated shoe,' Louise objected. 'That's all.'
'That's all,' Beaurain agreed sardonically.
*
From his room in the Hotel Reisen overlooking the Strommen and the Grand Hotel across the water Harvey Sholto had put in a call to the home of Joel Cody, the President's aide. It was an arrangement that had been made before he left Washington to fly to Stockholm. Any operator intercepting a call to the White House just had to listen in to that kind of call. This way Sholto could be phoning any ordinary individual.
'Appalachian calling,' he opened cautiously.
'Rushmore here.'
Joel Cody himself had answered, and he was alone, so Sholto could start talking. He kept his voice so low that twice Cody had to ask him to speak up.
'Cottel…' He said the name quickly and deliberately mispronounced it. '… is getting close. I persuaded him to keep his distance earlier today but he's breathing down our necks.'
'Real close?' enquired Cody. 'I mean, you're not panicking over nothing? This is a delicate situation and we wouldn't like it to blow up in our faces.'
'I'm telling you Cottel is within spitting distance of what you wouldn't like your best friend to tell you about. To say nothing of the guy you work for. And that's not all! You ever bought a telescope, one of those things you look through to see the girl taking off her bra in the window across the way? Well, they're also breathing down our necks. Correction — they're breathing down your neck. And you know something? I thought you had an election coming up.'
'OK, OK,' Cody replied hastily. 'You're the man on the spot, you decide. You have, of course, our complete backing,'
'With that I should start running. But Harvey Sholto stays in business while presidents come and go — so shove it. And I'll see what I can do.'
Sholto rammed down the receiver onto the cradle before the man in Washington had time to respond. High-powered rifle or revolver, the next time he would be shooting for real. And there were a lot of people to deal with in a short space of time. Just like the old times in Vietnam. He caught sight of his bald-headed reflection in the dressing-table mirror. Still, he had once killed twenty individual men in Saigon in different parts of the city in one day. And that had been to please Washington. Correction: to save Washington.
The news which determined Beaurain's final strategy came from an old friend just arrived at the Grand Hotel. The agitation Beaurain had detected when he had visited the Baron de Graer in his office in the Banque du Nord had disappeared. This time the Baron's expression was composed as he sat in an armchair close to the bathroom where Beaurain had turned on all the taps to scramble any possible listening device hidden in the room. But despite his placidity Beaurain saw in his eyes a steely determination.
'We — you — have to destroy the Syndicate, Jules,' he remarked as he trimmed off the tip of his cigar and then lit it slowly, puffing with evident pleasure. 'You might say I have recovered my nerve.'
'Did you ever lose it?'
'The last time I saw you in Brussels I was a trembling wreck I have had time to think since. The information you need is this. I am, as a minor member of the Syndicate, invited to what they are pleased to call their summit conference. The scum! '
'We'll deal with them,'
'Meeting place is supposed to be the liner Silvia, now lying a few miles off the coast of southern Sweden
