Colin Forbes - The Stone leopard

Using the numbered key he found inside the envelope, he opened the luggage locker at the Gare du Nord and took out a hold-all bag covered in tartan cloth, which again was stupid: it was too noticeable. It was a very long bag, the type used to carry around tennis racquets. But the contents inside showed that someone had used his head: a French MAT sub-machine gun with a wire stock, the magazine folded parallel to the barrel to make it inoperative, and a spare magazine; a Smith amp; Wesson. 38 revolver with spare rounds; and a short, wide- bladed knife inside a clip-on sheath. Vanek crossed the deserted hall to the opposite battery of lockers, chose an empty one, slipped the hold-all inside, shut the door, inserted his coin and turned the key. He had no intention of carrying weapons until it was necessary-especially since he had noticed during his two cab-rides intense police activity in the streets. There were also truck-loads of CRS bully-boys parked at strategic points. But Vanek had also noticed that cabs were still moving normally about the city; no one ever notices the Parisian cab-driver who is as much a part of the scenery as the Louvre.

Vanek, who had not eaten anything since the snack-lunch in the Renault on the way from Strasbourg to Saverne, would have liked to snatch a sandwich and a cup of coffee. He looked at his watch and swore. It was almost ten o'clock; time to make the next phone call. Using one of the station phones, he dialled the number.

He had hardly announced it was Salicetti speaking when the voice broke in, as abrupt as ever.

`Rue des Saussaies. Now! You know where I mean?' `Yes…'

Vanek broke the connection first this time. So they had taken Madame Devaud to the amp;trete Nationale headquarters, the fortress of the capitalist police system. Collecting the tartan hold-all, Vanek went out into the street beyond the Gare du Nord, ignoring the official taxi pick-up point. He wanted to make a careful choice, selecting a certain type of cab-driver for the next stage of the operation.

The police prefect of Strasbourg, who was not especially well disposed towards Marc Grelle-unlike the prefect of Lyon- was disturbed about the elaborate arrangements made to transport Madame Devaud to Paris. When he had tried to elicit further details from Grelle on the phone he had been told brusquely, 'This concerns the safety of the president and I am not at liberty to go into the matter further… .' Annoyed-and determined to cover himself-he phoned the Ministry of the Interior in Paris where he spoke to the Minister's assistant, Francois Merlin. `Grelle was very cagey on the phone,' the Strasbourg prefect complained. 'I gathered this Devaud woman was an important witness in some case he is working on… He was going off the line when he spoke again. 'I insist the Minister hears about this.'

The efficient Merlin immediately dictated a memo which was put on the Minister's desk where it lay undisturbed-and unread-for over an hour. It was 8.45 pm, before Roger Danchin, who had been attending a long meeting to check on the security for the presidential motorcade drive to the airport the following morning, walked back into his office. 'An important case Grelle is working on?' he queried with Merlin when he had read the memo. `Devaud is a reasonably common name but it could be something to do with the attempted assassination case. I must tell the president…' He lifted the phone which would put him direct through to the Elysee.

At 9.55 pm, summoned by an urgent phone call, Ambassador Vorin arrived at the Elysee, and his visit was duly recorded by the duty officer in the visitors' register. Florian already had his coat on and, as was his custom, led the Soviet ambassador out into the walled garden where they could talk undisturbed. The Alsatian, Kassim, ready for a breath of fresh air like his master, came with them, sniffing around in a shrubbery as they conferred in low tones. Vorin's latest visit was very brief, lasting only a few minutes, and he was then driven back at speed to the Soviet Embassy in the rue de Grenelle.

The method of communication between Vorin and Carel Vanek was carefully arranged so that no link between the two men could ever be established. Arriving back at the embassy, Vorin immediately summoned the Second Secretary and gave him a message. The Secretary, who would normally have made the call from a phone booth inside the nearest Metro station, returned to his own office, locked the door and dialled the number of an apartment on the Left Bank near the Cluny Museum. 'The deeds of the Devaud property will be found at the rue des Saussaies. Have you got that?' The man at the other end of the line only had time to say yes before the connection was broken.

The apartment near the Cluny was occupied by a man who had never attracted the attention of the police. Equipped with Danish papers under the name of Jurgensen, he was in fact a Pole called Jaworski who did not even know that the calls he received came back from the Soviet Embassy. It was 9.50 pm when he took this call. At to pm he passed on the information when Vanek phoned him again from the Gare du Nord.

They took Annette Devaud to a room on the fourth floor of Surete headquarters in the rue des Saussaies where Grelle was waiting for her. He could have interviewed her at the prefecture on the Ile de la Cite but he still thought it wise to keep up the fiction that this concerned the Lasalle affaire, and this operation was officially conducted from the Surete. To avoid upsetting Danchin, he had even phoned his assistant, Merlin, at eight o'clock to tell him a witness was on the way from Alsace whom he would interview at the rue des Saussaies. Merlin had mentioned this to Danchin before the Minister phoned the Elysee. Alone with the first live witness he had been able to lay his hands on, Grelle talked for a few minutes to put Annette Devaud at her ease Then he explained why she had been brought to Paris.

`And you really think that after all these years you can identify the Leopard?' he asked gently.

`If he's alive-as you say-yes! I lost my sight for thirty years before that doctor carried out his miracle operation. What do you think I saw in my mind's eye all those years when the world was only sounds and smells? I saw everyone I had ever met. And, as I told you, I nursed the Leopard through an illness.' Her voice dropped. 'And later he was responsible for the death of my only daughter, Lucie.. .'

As Grelle had foreseen, he felt horribly uncomfortable. Although Madame Devaud did not realize it-and it was Boisseau who had mentioned the point when phoning from Saverne-the prefect was the man who had been compelled to shoot Lucie Devaud. 'It was many years ago,' he reminded her, 'since you knew the Leopard. Even if he is still alive he may have changed out of all recognition…'

`Not the Leopard.' Her pointed chin jutted upwards. 'He had good bone structure-like me. Bones don't change. You can't hide bones…'

Grelle was so determined to test her that he had devised an odd method of identification. Remembering that Boisseau had mentioned over the phone that she was an amateur portrait artist, he had brought into the room Identikit equipment. He explained to her how the system worked, asked her what she would like to drink, and was so amused when she requested cognac that he joined her. He started by helping her with the Identikit, and then let her get on with it by herself She was obviously enjoying the new game.

Starting with the outline of the head, she began to build up the face of a man. The hairpiece came first. Grelle opened several box-files of printed hairpieces and helped her select several. Soon they were arguing.

`You've got it wrong,' she snapped. 'I told you he brushed his hair high on the forehead…' The face began to take shape.

The eyebrows she found quickly, but the eyes gave her trouble. 'They were very unusual-compelling,' she explained. She found the eyes at the back of the file and then worried over the nose. 'Noses are difficult…' She chose a nose and added it to the portrait. 'That's the nose. I think it's his most characteristic feature…' It took her five minutes to locate the mouth, ferreting in a fresh file, trying one and then another before she was satisfied. Pursing her own mouth, she screwed up her eyes as she completed the Identikit while Grelle watched with an expressionless face. 'That's the Leopard,' she said a few minutes later. 'That's the way he was.'