Colin Forbes - By Stealth

`But what did Lars suggest?' Tweed asked impatiently.

`No flights to Esbjerg at this time of day. He's fixed up for us to fly there in a small Piper Archer plane from Kastrup. An unmarked car will be waiting for us on the other side of the square – at this end of the Nyhavn. The driver will be wearing a yellow carnation in his buttonhole and smoking a cheroot for identification.'

`Sounds a natty dresser,' Cardon observed. 'When does our chariot await?'

Tweed was staring out of the window in Room 209, which overlooked Kongens Nytorv square. Beyond the bare skeletal branches of trees he thought he saw a car parked on the far side.

`The driver should be waiting for us now,' said Newman.

`Then we leave at once,' Tweed ordered. 'Philip, go first, ring us from the lobby if none of those four people I talked to are about.'

The phone rang two minutes later. Cardon reported the coast was clear. As Tweed left the hotel with Newman, walked into the arctic temperature, he made the comment to him.

`That was a frightening package delivered to us – as it was meant to be. But Wand committed a strategic blunder. The only person who could have informed him of my arrival is one of the Burgoyne Quartet. The question is – which one?'

Before boarding his Lear jet, Dr Wand made a phone call from inside the Kastrup Airport concourse. He dialled Dr Hyde's number. Again the connection was quick.

`You know who this is,' Wand said brusquely.

`I do. I have stayed in so as to…'

`Just listen, if you would be so kind,' Wand said sarcastically. 'The operation on your patient must be carried out earlier – this evening. I want to smash someone's morale into the ground…'

He slammed down the phone so savagely he nearly broke the instrument. Then he hurried to the waiting jet.

`Hello, Johnny.'

Butler had climbed out of his Volvo, which was parked across the stretch of lonely road from Bolderslev to Tinglev. His right arm hung limply by his side, his left hand clutched a thick wad of kroner banknotes.

Butler had decided it was time to speed things up. Earlier he had talked to a neighbour of Johnny Clausen's in Tinglev. He had explained he needed a driver urgently, that he was willing to pay well for the service.

`I gather he's taken a passenger to Bolderslev,' Butler had continued. 'If you could tell me the make of his car and registration number I'll try and meet him on his way back. I've had too much to drink for the long drive I have to make.' He had breathed fumes over the neighbour, fumes manufactured from smearing his lips with gin from a bottle he had bought. -

The neighbour, a jolly-looking Dane, had nodded in understanding. Which is how Butler had learned Clausen drove a blue Saab and its number.

Now he walked unsteadily towards Johnny Clausen who had climbed out of his Saab and walked towards Butler. With a toss of his head Clausen reacted aggressively.

`What the hell do you mean by blocking the road?'

Clausen was a weasel-like man with shifty eyes. Then his manner changed when he caught sight of the wad of money. Dressed in a soiled anorak and denims ripped at the sides, he put his thin hands on his hips.

`What do you want?'

`I need someone to drive me to Esbjerg. Too much to drink. I'll pay well.'

`Let me see…'

He never finished his sentence. Butler's limp right arm suddenly came alive. There was a blur of movement inside his unzipped windcheater and Johnny stared into the muzzle of a 7.65mm automatic. Butler pocketed the banknotes.

`You get the money if you do exactly what I say. Or you get your head blown off. First job, get back behind the wheel of your Saab. I'll sit beside you…'

Under Butler's brusque instructions Johnny drove his Saab off the road deep inside a copse of evergreen trees. He then got out and, with Butler close behind, walked back to the Volvo.

`Same act,' Butler snapped. 'Get behind the wheel and follow my instructions. If we meet a patrol car don't play clever. This gun will be rammed into your guts..

He directed Johnny to drive towards Tinglev, then take a quiet road which practically bypassed the town. They came to the track Butler had led Marler up earlier.

`Turn off here. Drive up that track. Someone we have to pick up.'

The Volvo bumped over the track and Butler told Johnny to drive it behind the copse of trees he'd seen on his first visit. Obeying Butler, Johnny switched off the engine, climbed out of the car. Butler ran round the front, still aiming the automatic. They stood close to the verge of the marsh. Butler had his automatic jabbed into his prisoner's back.

`I need to know where you took a passenger you brought in from Germany.' He thrust the photo of Dr Hyde in front of Johnny's face. 'Where did you take him?'

`I've never seen this man before.'

`He paid you that much to keep your trap shut? Here is your money ..

As Johnny turned round Butler slammed a haymaker into his jaw. The Dane collapsed and Butler got busy. He spread the body face down, fetched the rope already looped into a wide noose from the rear of the Volvo. It took him no time at all to slip the noose over the outspread arms and down the body to the waist. At this point Butler tightened the slip-knot. He had been careful not to hit Johnny too hard, using only half his strength. In a few minutes the prone figure began to stir.

Dazed, he looked up at Butler. Waiting a few more minutes, Butler asked his question again.

`Where did you take that passenger to?'

`I've never seen him…'

`Oh dear.' Butler sounded regretful. 'You want it the hard way. Because you'll end up dead if you don't talk.'

Tucking a rolled end of the rope inside his belt, Butler stooped, lifted Johnny bodily, carried him to the edge of the marsh and threw him forward. The Dane landed in a pool of filthy water with a splash. His legs went down first, sucked under into the ooze. He struggled futilely, waving his arms, calling out for help.

Butler took the roll of rope from his belt, pulled it tight and for a moment Johnny's downward progress into the marsh was arrested. Then Butler played out more rope. The waist sank under the gurgling slime. It crept up his chest. He screamed for mercy. Butler paid out more rope and the mud rose to Johnny's shoulders. His arms were trapped under the marsh. Only his neck, his terrified face were visible.

At Kastrup Airport in a remote part of the complex Tweed, Newman and Cardon boarded the small Piper Archer plane. They first stepped on to the wing and then entered through a door like that of a car.

The interior reminded Tweed of a car. There was the pilot's seat with another alongside, which Tweed sat in. Behind were two more seats occupied by Newman and Cardon. They sat with their cases in their laps. Tweed glanced over his shoulder at Newman.

`This plane, Bob, has only one propeller,' he teased.

`If we have to fly to Jutland on a wing and a prayer that's OK by me,' Newman snapped. 'Just so long as we get there fast.'

`Agreed,' said Tweed.

When they had strapped themselves into their seats the pilot supplied by Nielsen started up the engine. It was icy cold and fortunately they all wore heavy overcoats. The sky was clear as the plane moved forward, left the ground, climbed.

We fly to Esbjerg at a maximum altitude of three thousand feet,' the pilot told Tweed. 'The met forecast is for this weather all the way so you'll have a unique view of Denmark.'

`What about tonight?' Tweed enquired.

`A major weather change – especially in Jutland. Heavy fog along the whole coast. You're not thinking of enjoying a sailing trip, I hope?'

`I never enjoy a sailing trip,' said Tweed with vehemence.

They flew over the large island of Sjaelland, which Copenhagen sits on. The pilot had been right, Tweed thought, as he gazed down. From that height he could even see people walking, tiny figures. The landscape was something most tourists never saw. Beautiful rolling grassy hill slopes, some of them wooded. The isolated lake which gleamed like a sapphire. Cosy-looking single- storey homes tucked away amid trees at the end of twisting drives. It was like passing over paradise.