Colin Forbes - The Janus Man

`Get up, Emil! Quick! The Vopos are coming.'

Falken was shaking him roughly by the shoulder. Newman blinked. The honking of the geese was for real. Broad daylight was flooding through the windows. We are trapped was his first reaction…

Three hours earlier Wolf had been surprised to see Lysenko arriving in his office. Freshly-shaven, below his bushy eyebrows his eyes were alert, there was a spring in his step as he threw his outer coat over a chair. He stared at the trestle bed pushed against one wall, the blankets neatly folded back.

`What is that for?' he asked.

`I've had a nap. In an emergency I sleep on the job.' Wolf gave a wintry smile. `Oddly enough, I understand Tweed in London does the same thing at a time of crisis. I know that man's habits as well as my own.'

`Fresh developments? I see you've put up a wall map.' `Yes. Come and look at it…'

It was a large-scale map of both West and East Germany, extending to the Baltic in the north. Pins with red-coloured plastic heads had been pressed into the map. A red crayon had been used to circle a certain area.

`Why the pins?' Lysenko asked crisply, scratching his chin.

`They identify the points where incidents have occurred since the traitors in that watchtower short-circuited the electricity. This pin is the watchtower, this one where Schneider stopped two men on bicycles. This one where a patrol discovered Schneider's abandoned truck in a hollow by the side of the highway.'

`When did you learn this?'

`The report came in over two hours ago. A pattern is forming, a route…'

`And the red circle?'

The area where I have sent out fresh patrols to search every building – every cottage, farmhouse, isolated barn. Anywhere fugitives might spend the night. I did not spend long in bed,' he went on. 'A report has also come in from Erwin Munzel. He has surfaced. In Lubeck. He is waiting there for Tweed to come back.'

`You seem confident he will do that…'

`I know Tweed. He never gives up. As soon as he is on his way I shall know. From Balkan at Park Crescent.'

`And that route you said the fugitives were following. Where does it lead to?'

`Here. Leipzig. I am sure of it. Look at the pins again. They must have killed Schneider – he would have reported in long before now. That is the most positive evidence of all. And I have flooded Leipzig with patrols, many in plain clothes. We are going to catch these people on our own doorstep!'

The honking of the geese was a deafening chorus which went on and on. Newman followed Falken into the living-room as Hildegarde slipped past them into the bedroom. 'She is making up our beds,' Falken said quickly.

Newman paused in the large living-room, glancing round for any sign of their visit. On the metal worktop beside the old-fashioned stoneware sink stood two dirty soup bowls and two glass tumblers. Two, not three. The relics of the Radoms' breakfast, apparently. Hildegarde had washed up Gerda's bowl and glass. The three glasses which had contained Harz fire-water had also disappeared.

`Come on!' Falken called out as Gerda appeared. 'Move. Out the back way…'

They followed Falken who led them through a doorway at the rear of the farm, running along the track over which Newman had driven the Chaika. Gerda was close behind, clutching the windcheater, concealing the Uzi machine-pistol.

The sky was cloudless, the sun shone down and the August heat was building up. Newman found he was sweating as he ran, with effort or fear, he wasn't sure which. They reached the Chaika in the hollow and Falken climbed behind the wheel, Gerda slipped into the back and Newman sat alongside Falken who remained still, making no effort to start the engine. In the distance the honking of the geese reached new heights of indignation.

`What the hell are you waiting for?' Newman demanded. `Radom's diversion.'

`Which is?'

`Listen

He had hardly spoken when from the far side of the farmhouse came a roar, the explosive bursts of an exhaust pipe, the wild throbbing of an engine which sounded as though it was on the verge of bursting out of its casing. Falken smiled, started his own motor and drove forward up the gentle incline out of the hollow and down the other side into a sunken lane.

In the front yard Radom was perched on the high seat of his monster of a farm tractor, clashing the gears, revving up the motor as three cars appeared. The first vehicle drove straight through the closed gate, hurling it into the yard, followed by the other two cars. The motorcade stopped, doors were flung open, Vopos spilled into the yard, several heading for an old barn, others running inside the farmhouse.

The leader of the patrol ran up to the tractor, shouted up to Radom, who waved one hand helplessly. The engine sound increased as he clashed gears. The machine jerked backwards. The Vopo waved his hand, gesturing behind the tractor which was backing at speed towards one of the parked cars. Radom moved more levers, the tractor stopped with a back-breaking jerk, inches away from the car, then surged forward. The Vopo swore, jumped back out of its way.

`Kaput! Out of control! Can't stop it,' Radom shouted down at the Vopo.

The Vopo moved to the rear, searching for a way to climb on to the tractor. The rear exhaust belched a jet of fumes into his face. He backed off, choking, eyes watering, grabbed for his handkerchief as the tractor began to move in a circle and Radom moved the levers again. The honking of the geese was completely drowned by the appalling roar and thunder.

Falken had driven the Chaika almost to the end of the sunken lane. He turned right on to the deserted country road leading back to the highway. Then he accelerated, slowing only at the bends.

`You see,' he said to Newman, 'why I say Radom is one of my most reliable allies? The Vopos will never have heard this car leaving above the sound of that racket. And I tell you something else. Radom and his wife will make the lives of the Vopos a misery. They will be glad to clear out.'

`How? Apart from that deafening row?'

`The Vopos may well be thirsty – it is a hot day. They'll get nothing to drink. Hildegarde will see to that.'

`Again, how?'

`As soon as she'd made up the three beds – which would take her no time at all – she'll have turned off the water at the main. Very hard to find, the mains tap. She'll tell them something's gone wrong with the water supply. No milk. The cows haven't been milked – they drank what there was for their breakfast. No Harz fire water. That is locked away in a concealed cupboard. No nothing…'

'But something for us,' Gerda called out. 'Bless her, the old saint.'

`What's that?' Newman called over his shoulder.

`A basket with a cloth over it. Black bread. Canned food and fruit. A thermos of coffee. She must have prepared this and brought it out to the car while we slept. We can survive for another day without going near a shop. There's even a large bottle of mineral water, some paper cups.'

`A remarkable couple,' Newman said. 'But I worry about them. If they play up those Vopos they could turn rough, wreck the farm.'

`Then they will get the surprise of their lives,' Falken commented. 'Radom won't tell them, but he has influence in high places. His farm should have been merged long ago with a collective. His protector stopped that.'

`And who is this benefactor?'

`A man called Markus Wolf.' Falken chuckled. 'Wolf has one weakness. His stomach. He likes good country food – fresh eggs, butter, fowl. Radom provides it. Those Vopos make the wrong move and they end up working in a labour battalion.'

`Pull up,' Newman said suddenly. 'Isn't that the highway?'

`Yes.' Falken had stopped the car. 'Why?'

`Because I'm taking over the wheel. I'm Border Police. And you're both risking your necks for me. But before we change places, I want to know what's waiting for me. This witness – who is she?'