Colin Forbes - Double Jeopardy

`Did – you – say – Hagen?' asked Stoller, spacing his words. 'Yes.'

'He said that just before he died?'

'Yes.'

'Which means you withheld this information for three days?' 'Yes.'

The two men faced each other like fierce dogs squaring up for battle. Stoller had gone very pate, his long arms close to his body. Martel watched the German as he lit a fresh cigarette. He asked the question casually.

'What was it like – your two years under cover in what you still call The Zone? That length of time must be something of a record – to survive undetected…'

'And what does that mean?' Stoller asked very quietly.

'Simply that my main job is to identify the rotten apple in the barrel – O'Meara, Flandres, Howard – or yourself. And the train is leaving Paris tonight. You're going to find the atmosphere aboard rather electric. Think of it, Erich, all four of you looking over your shoulders…'

'Why take Hagen's word?'

'Because my job is to tell when a man is lying – and I believe Hagen was telling the truth.'

'Would you think me rude if I asked you to leave? And at least you won't be on board the train

'Why the hell did you do that to Stoller? God knows he's helped us,' Claire raged.

They had returned to the Hotel Clausen and Martel was sitting on her bed while she stormed round the room. The Swiss girl was in a furious temper. She sat down in- front of the dressing-table and began brushing her hair vigorously.

'We're letting them all know at the last moment. It's the plan Tweed and I cooked up when I met him at London Airport. It will throw the killer off balance, may cause him to make a slip

'They'll all know? Is that a good idea?'

'They'll be watching each other.'

'As you said, the atmosphere will be diabolical. One thing's for sure – you've made an enemy of Stoller…'

'Only if he's guilty…'

She swung round on her stool and glared. 'For God's sake remember what you said to him. We can't go near him again.' 'You think we're marooned?'

'Aren't we?' she challenged.

They were waiting for Tweed in his office after his return flight from Paris. Seated behind her desk, McNeil half-closed her eyes to warn her boss. Big Trouble.

'This is Tim O'Meara,' Howard began very stiffly, introducing the large American who remained by the window to avoid shaking hands with Tweed. 'Someone took this photograph while you were on board Clint Loomis' power cruiser on the Potomac…'

Tweed took the glossy print and examined it carefully. It was a blow-up which had been produced with great skill, doubtless in the CIA laboratories at Langley. The print provided a clear reproduction of Tweed who was squinting as though gazing into the sun.

'Well?' Howard demanded.

'How did you come by this photo? It is important that I know.'

Previously Tweed had given O'Meara one brief glance on entering his office. The question was now addressed to him. Howard went purple at Tweed's reaction.

'By God, you're going to regret this…'

'No,' Tweed corrected him briskly, 'you are going to regret this if my question is not answered. I happened to notice when the photo was being taken.' He looked direct at O'Meara again. 'I need to know how you obtained this picture…'

'Delivered by messenger to Langley,' O'Meara said brusquely. 'I gather the messenger was held at the gate – normal procedure. He said he had been called by phone, told to go to the reception desk of a Washington hotel where an envelope would be waiting with my name on it. Another envelope contained the delivery fee and a fat tip.'

`You believe this?'

`We checked out his story, for Christ's sake,' the American snapped. 'Who took the picture we haven't a snowflake in hell's idea. It was obviously taken with…'

`A telephoto lens – then your technicians produced this remarkable blow-up. There was a message with the print and negative?'

'Yes,' said O'Meara, unconsciously confirming Tweed's query as to whether both print and negative had been delivered. 'It said that I might like to know an Englishman called Tweed had been aboard the Oasis before the unfortunate aftermath. All this stuff was flown to me top priority by Langley.'

`Manfred,' Tweed murmured.

`What was that?' Howard pounced.

`Manfred! He arranged it – the taking of the picture after he had had Loomis and myself followed from Dulles. He's playing his usual tactic – sowing confusion prior to launching Crocodile

Tweed then proceeded to play his own diversionary tactic before Howard could interrogate him about the Washington trip. Unlocking a desk drawer he lifted out three articles and placed them neatly on his desk top. A. 38 Smith amp; Wesson Special. A black beret. A pair of large tinted sun-goggles. He added to the collection a dark blue windcheater.

`The interesting question,' Tweed remarked, 'is who was in London last Friday morning when Manfred-Carlos was in Piccadilly?'

`We were in Paris for the security meeting. I caught the noon plane,' said O'Meara.

`I was on the to am. Flight…'

Like the American, Howard answered quickly, then stopped in mid-sentence. In a matter of seconds Tweed had reversed, the roles, had become the inquisitor instead of the accused. He followed up his advantage before Howard could explode.

'That doesn't exonerate either of you. The wearer of these garments, the owner of the gun was seen by a policeman in Piccadilly at nine o'clock in the morning. As you know, shortly afterwards this little collection was found on a chair in the man's shop, Austin Reed. My question really is who did this mysterious man who vanished so quickly come to London to meet…'

He broke off as the door opened and Howard's deputy, Mason, came into the room. He. was closing the door when Tweed spoke abruptly.

Not now, Mason. And next time, knock first. It is customary.' 'But I was invited to attend…'

'You are now invited to leave immediately.'

Mason stared at Howard who looked away towards the window. He wet his lips as though about to say more when he caught Tweed's gaze. It was bleak and intimidating and Mason suddenly realised no one was coming to his aid. With a mumbled apology he left the room.

'Did you invite him?' Tweed asked Howard sharply.

'Not really…' Howard seemed as relieved as anyone to see the back of Mason at this juncture. 'He is, of course, my deputy

'Who has yet to work his passage,' Tweed replied caustically. 'Returning to the subject of this strange incident in Piccadilly, Special Branch – at my request – handed these items to their Forensic boffins for urgent analysis. No manufacturer's labels, of, course. The beret is from Guyana, the windcheater and goggles from Venezuela next door. Origin of the gun untraceable. Does their report suggest anything?'

'South America,' O'Meara said grimly. 'Carlos again?'

'Except that it is rather obvious,' Tweed pointed out. 'And we are getting too many obvious signals. I'm looking for something not obvious…'

'What the devil do you mean?' demanded Howard who had recovered his normal balance. 'And what has this to do with our over-riding concern – the Summit Express?'

`It's a question of timing.' Tweed was still addressing O'Meara. 'You should read a little more history. In the early part of 1919, when Germany was falling apart, a Soviet republic was established in Bavaria – so there is a precedent for Operation Crocodile. Luckily the so-called people's government was destroyed by the remnants of the German Army and the Freikorps. Look at the map…'

Tweed opened The Times atlas and showed them Lake Konstanz and how its shape was like that of a crocodile with its jaws agape.

'That is the significance of Crocodile – it denotes the locale of the conspiracy. Bavaria is their immediate target. The plan is to set up a neutral government under this creature, Tofler who has Communist links. Bavaria has a narrow section of the Konstanz shore – and reports had reached me that a secret factory in Czechoslovakia is building motor torpedo boats…