Colin Forbes - The Janus Man

`Why Janus?'

`Janus, the god who looks both ways – the man who looks both to East and West. Like January. Undoubtedly Wolfs – and therefore also Lysenko's – chief agent in the West…'

`But there appear to be two chief agents. Balkan also.'

`Balkan is somewhere in Germany for brief, maybe longish, periods. Probably controller of all Wolfs networks in Western Germany. Getting back to Lubeck, we have the strange figure of Dr Berlin. And Diana's shrewd comment – maybe he wants you to see him. Why would he want that?'

`Sounds an arrogant sod,' Monica commented.

`Lubeck still. Two horrible murders of attractive blonde girls. Three, if you add in Frankfurt six months ago.'

`You lack a connection – maybe several.'

'I have that feeling – that I am looking at different pieces of a huge jigsaw. I can't fit them together because I lack more pieces.'

`Maybe Newman has gone off to find some of your missing pieces. We know from my phone call that he checked out of the Jensen.'

'I just hope to God he hasn't crossed the border.' Tweed's gaze switched to the wall map. 'Peter Toll is brilliant but still impetuous.'

`Why use Newman? He has his own people…'

`Because he might need someone new. All four of our sector chiefs report a weird lack of activity by the opposition. Toll will have spotted that. So, he sends in someone fresh. Let's pray I'm wrong.'

`And why, may I ask,' Monica said tentatively, 'are you taking Diana Chadwick with you when you visit the famous four in their warrens?'

`Just to get a second opinion.'

`Oh, really? I don't think we're being frank any more. You have some other motive…'

Tweed stood up behind his desk, stretched his arms, suppressed a yawn. 'You go home now. Me too. I'll find you a cab. I have to visit that detective, Portman, tomorrow – no, today.'

Monica put the cover on her typewriter. 'And what about Harry Butler and that German he's interrogating at Heathrow?'

`We'll leave them there until I can get Toll. Harry can last out an incredible number of hours. Maybe the German can't.'

`I'll try Toll again in the morning.'

`Do that.' Tweed helped her on with her coat. 'I want news of what has happened to Newman.'

Newman stopped, braking his cycle, dropping his feet to the road, standing with legs splayed on either side of his machine. The crisis had come. He was ice-cold. Falken also stopped. Newman threw up one hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the car's headlights, holding the cycle with the other.

`Border Police!' the arrogant voice shouted again. 'Papers! Your papers!'

There were two of them, both clad in grey military greatcoats and rammed down over their heads were peaked caps with oblong-shaped cap badges. They had stepped forward into the lights, one of them held a carbine loosely in his right hand.

`Lay your cycles on the ground!'

Newman obeyed, stood up slowly, very erect. His left hand reached up slowly to his breast pocket. The guard with the carbine levelled his weapon, aiming it at Newman's chest.

`What are you doing?' his companion shouted.

`Getting out my papers. You asked for them. Kindly examine this folder:' Newman's tone was deceptively quiet. 'And tell that lout with you to lower his gun…'

`Lout?'

The talking man stepped forward, raised his clenched fist.

`Hit me and I'll see you spend the rest of your natural life behind bars!' Newman thundered. 'River Police. Special Security Section. Look at it, idiot!'

He thrust the opened folder under the man's nose, keeping a grip on the document. He held the folder at a slanting angle in the light from the car. The guard lowered his fist, took a step back. Newman took a step forward.

`Blundering fools!' he stormed. 'I'm a senior officer – on special assignment tracking down drug smugglers. You may have ruined the whole operation. Turn out those goddamn car lights. Give me a torch. Come on! Move, damn you!'

Psychological intimidation was not the only motive for raising his voice. Somewhere close behind Gerda was coming along the road, cycling in their rear. He was warning her.

`Go back and turn off the headlights,' the guard told the man with the carbine. 'I have a torch here,' he went on, producing the torch from the capacious pocket of his greatcoat. Newman snatched it from him, switched it on and beamed it straight into the man's eyes. He blinked and lifted his own hand. The cap badge of the Border Guards now showed clearly, the badge Toll had shown Newman at the farmhouse when he identified the different police forces in the DDR for Newman.

`Now you know what it's like,' Newman ranted on. 'To have a light shone at you point-blank. Only the mist may have stopped those headlights alerting the gang of bastards I'm after. Have you children?' he demanded. 'And what is your name?'

`Karl Schneider,' the guard said sullenly. 'And I have a boy and a girl…'

`You want the boy to grow up a drug addict? Hooked on heroin?' he shouted. 'Because that is what this anti-social gang of swine are peddling.' His voice dropped, became silky. 'Show me your identification. I may have to report this operation went wrong because of your crazy intervention…'

`We only do our duty.'

In a cowed tone, the words trailing off as Schneider gave Newman his folder. The Englishman checked it by the light of the torch, repeated the number three times as though impressing it on his memory, then shoved it back at the German.

`Your duty,' he sneered. 'Your fumbling incompetence, you mean.'

`Incompetence?' Schneider, indignant, perked up. 'And who is this man with you?'

`Josef Falken, Bird Sanctuary Conservation Service,' Newman rasped. 'Co-opted to assist me. He can move like a cat – which is more than you can do.' He raised his voice. said incompetence. Instead of waiting by your car quietly, then waving us down with this torch, calling out in a normal voice, you have to illuminate half the Harz Mountains. And had we run for it your car is parked the wrong way – it would need a three-point turn before you could have come after us. By then we'd have disappeared into the mist. Perhaps,' he continued with a heavy sarcasm, 'you'd like to waste more time checking my companion's papers? That will look good on the report I may make. Especially if we miss our rendezvous with the gang of vipers we are hunting.'

`That will not be necessary,' Schneider replied. 'Please to proceed. And if you can see your way to overlooking this unfortunate incident. I have two children and a wife…'

I will think over your request. Come, Falken, we have wasted too long already..

They cycled off together past the parked car which now showed no headlights and pedalled through the fog-bound silence without speaking for several minutes.

`What about Gerda?' Newman asked eventually.

`She will have heard your voice, she will take to the forest, go round the Border Police, pushing her bike, then return to the road and catch us up. That is why we are moving slowly. You know, my friend.. Falken paused as though seeking the right words, `… that was a truly remarkable performance you put up. You are a natural actor. You overwhelmed them by the sheer force of your personality. I kept silent for fear of spoiling the show. Welcome to Group Five.'

`I know the type,' Newman said tersely. 'I've met them before. At the bottom of the heap, they bully any even further down. And they ass-crawl to their superiors. I loathe them.' `You think that Schneider will report the incident?'

`It was a gamble,' Newman admitted. 'If Schneider thinks I will not submit a report he'll keep quiet. If he decides that I'm likely to report him, he'll try to get in first. But I'd bet money he'll sleep on it. Then he may think it is too late. We can only hope.'