Алистер Маклин - Death Train

An hour later they arrived at Lausanne station where the stationmaster had been told to expect them. He made several internal calls then announced, somewhat relieved, that he had tracked down the porter who had overseen the off-loading of the freight train the previous day.

Graham asked him not to summon the porter to his office. He believed strongly in the psychology of home territory, which invariably put witnesses at their ease and made them more likely to remember little details they might otherwise forget or overlook in strange or foreign surroundings. He had seen it work while at Delta.

The porter was standing on the platform, his hands dug into his overall pockets.

‘You speak English?’ Graham asked.

The porter nodded hesitantly.

‘We’d like to ask you some questions,’ Sabrina said.

‘What’s in it for me?’

‘Your job,’ Graham replied tersely.

‘Well, if you put it that way,’ the porter said with a nervous chuckle.

‘Recognize this invoice?’ Sabrina asked, holding up the one given to her by the stationmaster.

The porter pointed to the name printed in the top left-hand corner. ‘That’s me. Dieter Teufel. Teufel means “devil”. Dieter the Devil, especially with the women.’

‘I don’t give a damn about your social life,’ Graham snapped. ‘So you dealt with this particular cargo when it arrived here yesterday?’

‘It’s my name, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t need your sarcasm, boy.’

‘I was here but–’

‘But?’ Sabrina prompted.

‘I could lose my job,’ Teufel said, staring at his unpolished shoes. ‘I should have known it wouldn’t work.’

‘You’re on the verge of losing it anyway unless you start coming up with some answers.’

‘Hang on, Mike.’ Sabrina stared at Teufel’s bowed head. ‘Look, we’re not interested if you’ve broken some internal disciplinary code. All we want to know is what happened to the cargo.’

‘I don’t actually know,’ Teufel replied, stubbing his toecap absently on the concrete platform.

‘I promise you it won’t go any further than the three of us,’ Sabrina said.

‘You promise?’

‘I promise,’ she answered with a reassuring smile.

‘About forty minutes before the train was due to arrive this man came up to me and asked if I’d be interested in making five hundred francs. Naturally I jumped at the chance.’

‘What man? Had you seen him before?’ Graham asked.

‘I’d never seen him before. Well-built, black hair, spoke good German. He knew somehow that I was dealing with this section and gave me the serial number of a wagon and told me not to go anywhere near it. He said it contained his own private cargo and that he wanted to unload it himself. I know it’s against the rules but I wasn’t going to argue, not for that kind of money.’

‘Then what happened?’ Sabrina pressed.

‘A white van was reversed up to the wagon.’

‘Did he have any accomplices?’ Graham asked.

‘I only saw the driver but there could have been others inside the wagon.’

‘Describe the driver,’ Graham said.

Teufel shrugged. ‘I didn’t really take much notice of him. I just remember he had a moustache. There was something strange though. After the van had been loaded it drove to another loading bay and backed up against a second wagon. It must have been there for at least an hour. Then it returned to the original wagon and backed up against it again. Both trains left about the same time.’

‘Did you check either of the freight cars before they left?’

‘No, sir, but I did check my invoices afterwards. Both wagons were down as empty.’

‘Where were the trains going?’ Graham asked.

‘The one from Mainz goes on to Rome. I’m not sure about the other one. I’ll check if you want.’

‘Check,’ Graham said.

Teufel disappeared into a booth and returned a minute later. ‘The other train’s bound for Zurich via Fribourg and Berne. It’s stuck in Fribourg at the moment. Mechanical problems. I’ve also written down the serial numbers of the two wagons if that will be any help to you.’

‘Has the cargo been transferred to another train in Fribourg?’ Sabrina asked, taking the slip of paper from him.

‘No, the train’s scheduled to leave Fribourg later this afternoon. The cargo will still be on board.’

‘So you never went near either of the freight cars?’ Sabrina asked.

‘I stayed well clear. I wanted the money.’

‘Thanks for your help. And don’t worry, we won’t say anything to the stationmaster about yesterday.’

‘Thanks,’ Teufel muttered, then smiled knowingly at Graham. ‘You’re lucky to have such a beautiful assistant.’

‘Partner,’ Sabrina said sharply.

Teufel touched his cap apologetically. ‘Excuse me, I’ve got work to do.’

Sabrina watched him disappear back into the booth. ‘So crime does pay sometimes.’

‘Meaning?’ Graham asked as they walked back towards the main concourse.

‘He’d be irradiated if he’d turned the bribe down and gone to the freight car.’

‘True enough,’ Graham answered, then chuckled to himself.

‘What?’

‘Assistant. I like it.’

‘I bet,’ she replied, then pointed to the station café. ‘Come on, I’ll buy you breakfast.’

He had bacon, eggs and sausages. She settled for a continental breakfast, substituting two slices of freshly baked tresse , a plaited white loaf, for the conventional croissant.

‘What do you make of these latest developments?’ Graham asked as they sat down at one of the few vacant tables.

She stirred her coffee thoughtfully before answering. ‘They found out about the damaged keg and had to repair it secretly; that must be why the van was backed up to the freight car.’

‘Not to mention the fact that someone in a protective white suit might just attract the wrong kind of attention,’ Graham added between mouthfuls.

‘They must know they’re in the frame otherwise why the decoy?’

‘Not necessarily. We’re dealing with professionals. It’s only natural they should cover their tracks after a setback like that.’ He forked the remaining bit of sausage and dipped it into the runny egg yolk. ‘Which train do you think is the decoy?’

‘The original one bound for Rome,’ she replied without hesitation.

‘They’ve fooled you,’ he said, his mouth full.

‘Really? And what makes you so certain?’

‘Intuition.’

‘Intuition? Of course, why didn’t I think of that?’ she said sarcastically.

Graham banged his fist angrily on the table. A couple at the next table scowled at him but looked away when he glared back at them. He leaned forward and tapped his finger on the table. ‘I already had six years’ experience of the criminal mind by the time you graduated from the Sorbonne as a spoilt little brat.’

‘The spoilt little brat. I was wondering when we would get round to that. What about the rest of it? The poor little rich girl who got into the FBI through her father’s influence and who would now be married to some rich Miami socialite had it not been for the timely intervention of Colonel Philpott, who was pressed into giving her a job with UNACO. You should try playing another track, Mike, that one’s already beginning to stick.’

‘The truth hurts.’

‘And you should know.’ She immediately regretted her words. ‘I’m sorry, Mike, I didn’t mean that.’

‘You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it.’ He rubbed his hands over his face. ‘Can we get back to the case?’

‘It could actually be a blessing in disguise.’

‘What could?’ He pushed his plate aside.

‘Our difference of opinion. We’ll have to check out both trains.’