Colin Forbes - The Janus Man

`Where are we going?' Newman asked as he settled himself behind the wheel of the hired Audi.

`Lubeck-Sud police headquarters. Kuhlmann phoned before I came down to breakfast. He has news. But first we'll call in at the Movenpick. You drive past the Hoistentor and I'll guide you. I want a word with Pete Nield, send him over to help Butler keep an eye on Diana.'

`Dr Berlin is back. I told you I had news,' Kuhlmann announced with satisfaction. 'That's only for openers.'

At Lubeck-Sud Kuhlmann had taken them up in the elevator to the locked room where Tweed had used the scrambler phone on his previous visit. Newman and Tweed sat at the table, drinking coffee from the canteen. Kuhlmann remained on his feet, waving his cigar, about to continue, when Tweed spoke.

`Where is Dr Berlin now? What time did he get back?'

`In his mansion on Priwall Island. Gates closed. Guards posted. Dogs patrolling the grounds. He arrived back at precisely 11.30 p.m. last night, travelling inside his black Mercedes. They brought the ferryman back to take him over – he has that kind of clout.'

`Any chance of a second raid on that mansion – if I wanted it?' Tweed asked.

`No chance. I got my backside paddled about that. Berlin has clout in Bonn. He's a friend of Oskar Graf von Krull, the banker. I can't even put close surveillance on that mansion any more. Unless, of course…' He puffed at his cigar. 'I was provided with iron-clad evidence of a crime. Iron-clad.'

`Not to worry. You've managed to keep the Franck episode quiet?'

`That I've managed. He's from the East. All his identity documents checked out – except the driving licence. The computer showed its owner died six months ago in a crash. And Peter Toll of the BND is on his way here – flying in from Munich.

`I'd like to see him. As soon as he arrives,' Tweed said tersely.

The phone rang. Kuhlmann listened, spoke briefly, put the receiver down. He turned to Newman.

`They're ready to take your statement about Franck. Room 10. Ground floor. You can find your own way?'

`I can…'

`The statement should be as we agreed last night. Not one word more.'

He waited until he was alone with Tweed. 'I don't know where Newman has been…' He paused, but Tweed remained silent… but he's a changed man. Something has happened to him.'

`He's grown harder,' Tweed agreed. 'At one time he'd have punched it out with Franck. He didn't hesitate to jerk him out of that window…'

`Knowing he'd end up spread over the floor of that well like a mess of goulash. But Franck did pull a knife – and that's something else I wanted to tell you. In confidence.'

`Of course.'

`Franck murdered those blonde girls. That knife fits the murder weapon. We've got our psycho…'

`Are you sure?' Tweed frowned, startled.

`I'm always sure. The pathologist is checking it now. Is something wrong?'

`A major theory I had just went out of the window – the way Franck did.'

`What's your next move?'

`I think I'll go back to Travemunde – ask a few more questions. Those boat people who commute between the Med and the Baltic fascinate me…'

The phone rang again. Kuhlmann listened, told them to send him up. 'Peter Toll has arrived,' he told Tweed. 'I'll leave you alone with him.'

Toll started out bright and breezy, adjusting his glasses as he sat opposite Tweed, who stared back without any particular expression. Then Tweed let rip, castigating the BND chief for sending a British civilian across the border.

`He went voluntarily,' Toll protested. 'And where is my man, Prohl? I've had a talk with Newman downstairs. He's given me invaluable information – about a changed code. And he was very concerned as to the fate of a girl called Gerda. That we may not know for months. We're having a longer chat later…'

`You are not. Newman went through hell behind the Curtain. He was almost caught several times.'

`I regret that. In future I check with you first. But I didn't know he was your employee,' he pointed out.

`He isn't. And I've phoned London – Prohl is flying back to Germany.' Tweed stood up. 'I think in time we will cooperate well together. Let us say goodbye on that positive note.'

He was alone for barely a minute when Kuhlmann returned, sat down and crossed his stocky legs.

`I left you alone until he'd gone.'

`And how did you know he had gone?'

`There's a pressure pad under the carpet outside the door. Someone steps on it, a light is activated in another room.'

`Tricky little place you've got here,' Tweed commented. 'You were talking about Franck.'

`He had a beard. Long hair, too. But the main thing is the beard.'

`I don't quite follow you.'

`Explains something which had puzzled me. Why did Franck go underground for as long as about a fortnight? Now I've got it – he had to hide away while he grew that beard.'

`Say that again.'

`I thought I spoke clearly.' Kuhlmann looked miffed, then he nodded his head. 'Of course, you're still suffering from that mescaline – it was mescaline; Dr Rimek phoned me the results of the analysis this morning.'

He took the cigar out of the corner of his mouth. He spoke with slow, deliberate emphasis. 'I said, why did Franck go underground for about a fortnight? He had to hide away while he grew that beard.'

`I've been an idiot – not seeing it earlier..

`Not seeing what?'

`Wait! You said Dr Berlin is back – did your man actually see him clearly inside that Mercedes?'

'No. I checked that. He has those amber-coloured net curtains inside the car. They were drawn. The chauffeur was driving. He saw a vague outline of a figure in the back, a man who wore tinted glasses – the type Berlin wears..

`So,' Tweed pressed, 'he had no clear and visible view of the passenger in the back?'

`No.'

'I thought not.' Tweed's tone expressed deep satisfaction. 'I predict we won't be seeing Dr Berlin for about another ten days yet.'

`You wouldn't care to explain all this? No? I thought not. Incidentally, you'll be on your own from now on. I have to get back to Wiesbaden. I only stayed here to track down the murderer of those blonde girls. Thanks to Newman, case closed.'

`Five hundred kilos of heroin,' Tweed said to Newman as they strolled along the Travemunde waterfront. 'That would cause havoc in Britain. Worse, in some ways, than a couple of atom bombs. Could you load that amount aboard a cruiser like the Sudwind?'

`Yes, if you stacked it to the gunwales. Bit of an exaggeration, but it could be done.'

`Do you think that cruiser you saw approaching the Wroclaw was the Sudwind?'

In the distance, wending her way among the crowds, Diana, wearing a cherry-coloured dress, was heading for the vessel Tweed had named. Behind her ambled Harry Butler, his blue shirt concealed beneath a white lightweight Marks amp; Spencer sweater. Pete Nield strolled on the opposite side of the road.

Butler and Nield had followed Newman's hired Audi in their own hired Fiat on the drive from Lubeck to Travemunde. Newman shrugged in answer to Tweed's question.

`There are so many of these power cruisers in this part of the world now. It could have come from a marina anywhere along the Baltic – here, Kiel, Flensburg. And don't ask me if I could identify the chap in the balaclava who brought his cruiser alongside the freighter. I couldn't.'

`Lack of evidence.' Tweed grunted. 'And now Kuhlmann is going back to Wiesbaden – although I think he's wrong. I can see Ann Grayle. Let's have a chat with her.'

As usual, Ann Grayle was smart as paint. She wore a cream linen V-necked sweater, a navy blue pleated skirt, court shoes and a rope of pearls. Her right hand clasped a glass as she welcomed them aboard.

`And how are you, Bob? Fully recovered?' She eyed Tweed with a dry smile. `So, the claims investigator has come back too – with the delectable Diana. Sit down somewhere – and would you like a drink? It's a punch. I'd better warn you – it carries one hell of a kick.'