Colin Forbes - Double Jeopardy

'We pride ourselves on our organisation,' Flandres replied with a cynical smile. 'Since the change of government we have little else to pride ourselves on.'

'As bad as that?' Howard glanced sharply at his companion who, as always, was the soul of relaxation. 'Is everything proceeding according to plan?'

'There is something I do not understand – and in the situation we are faced with incomprehensible things disturb me. I have had a signal from Bonn warning us to expect an urgent communication from Germany during the night. Stoller is not at Pullach

'Well, that's his problem…' Howard dismissed the whole thing with a curt wave of his hand.

'It might be our problem as well,' Flandres responded.

Under Flandres' instructions French security forces at both Orly and Charles de Gaulle were checking all arrivals for known faces. But they missed one person who came in on Flight LH 323 from Munich via Frankfurt. The aircraft landed at Charles de Gaulle at 2215 hours and the passenger, who had travelled first class, passed through the security checks unchallenged.

Elegantly clad in a black Givenchy dress and wearing a string of pearls, she also wore a hat with a veil. Porters carried her Gucci luggage to a waiting chauffeur-driven limousine. She raised her veil briefly for Passport Control.

'I wonder how many ingots of gold she is sitting on in the Bahnhofstrasse,' the Passport official murmured to a colleague after he had returned Irma Romer her Swiss passport and she moved away.

'I wouldn't mind having her sitting on me,' his colleague replied. 'She is a beauty…'

Settling herself in the spacious rear of the car the woman with the veil spoke to the chauffeur as the car was driven away from the airport.

'Emil, we have one hour before the train leaves – so you must drive slowly, kill some time. I must board the Summit Express. five minutes before it departs.'

'My instructions were clear, Madame,' Emil replied. 'There will be no problem.'

'There must be no problem.'

Having issued this injunction, Klara Beck crossed her long legs and relaxed. It had been a rush to drive from the Bavarian schloss to catch the plane at Munich but she was sure she had successfully eluded the man who had tried to follow her. That would be Stoller's doing, of course.

'Stick Stoller,' she thought inelegantly and checked the time by her diamond-studded watch.

Gare de l'Est, 2300 hours. The twelve-coach express stood in the station. At the front the giant locomotive which would haul its precious cargo gleamed under the lights. It had been polished and polished again like a jewel. The chief engine-driver, Jacques Foriot, was the most experienced driver in the whole of France. He stood checking his array of dials and controls and then peered out of his cab.

The first six coaches immediately behind the engine were reserved for the train's illustrious passengers. The Prime Minister of Great Britain, typically, had arrived first. She had gone to bed without delay in Voiture One, the coach attached to the locomotive:

Voiture Two would be occupied by the French President who was at this moment climbing aboard after his swift ride from the Elysee. Alain Flandres stood on the platform, his eyes everywhere as the short, stocky President mounted the steps and disappeared inside. Flandres let out an audible sigh of relief.

'One more worry off my mind,' he remarked to his deputy, Pierre Buzier, a giant of a man with a bushy moustache who towered over his chief. 'And now one more worry on my mind,' Flandres continued with a shrug of his shoulders.

'But he is safe now,' Buzier reassured him. 'It was the drive from the Elysee that bothered us…'

`And you imagine that the next seven hundred-mile ride across Europe does not worry me, my friend?' He squeezed Buzier's huge arm and smiled cynically. 'It will be a long night- followed by a long day

…'

The makeup of the express had been the subject of considerable study and much discussion by the security staff at the Elysee to ensure maximum safety. Voiture Three was reserved for the American President who was expected to arrive from Orly at the last moment. And Voiture Four would be the preserve of Chancellor Langer when he boarded the train at Munich at 9.33 am. on the following morning.

Behind these four coaches was attached the communications coach which carried some of the most sophisticated equipment available. One section was devoted entirely to a link between the train and the White House in Washington. The president would be accompanied, as he was everywhere, by an official carrying the black box – the sinister device for signalling a nuclear alert in varying stages of urgency.

Flandres and his technicians had devoted a great deal of energy to equipping this coach, cooperating with the Americans who had installed their own devices.

As though to counter the austere purpose of this coach, the one behind was taken up by the restaurant car for the exclusive use of the western leaders. It was expected that during daylight hours they would confer at length while they hammered out a united policy before facing the Soviet leader in Vienna.

'I want more men on this barrier,' Flandres ordered as he passed through the second barrier temporarily erected on the platform, a barrier sealing off the VIP section at the front from the rest of the express.

'Surely we have enough men already,' Buzier protested.

Tor practical purposes, yes,' Flandres agreed. 'For public relations' purposes, no. The Americans are great believers in numbers. Bring ten more men from outside the station. That should impress them, should it not, Pierre?' Again he smiled cynically.

'If you say so…'

'I know O'Meara. If I am not mistaken I can hear the approach of the great man…'

'The American President?'

'No – O'Meara! Accompanied by the President!'

Beyond the second barrier was the rest of the train, the public section which comprised another six coaches. Two for first-class passengers (one a sleeping-car), three for second-class and, at the rear of the express, the public restaurant.

As he passed them alone – Buzier had hurried ahead to gather up ten more men – Flandres glanced at each window. Most of the blinds in the sleeping-car were closed but the station pulsated with a sense of expectancy. As he continued towards the main ticket barrier the little Frenchman scanned the other windows and eager faces stared back. He stopped to request that a window be closed. Until the train was moving the order was all windows must remain shut.

In the corridors on the other side of the express armed men of the French security services stood at intervals. At the main barrier he saw Howard waiting and pursed his lips. Having seen ' his own charge safely aboard, the Englishman was going to be present when the President of the United States arrived.

The distant sirens shrieking like banshees came closer. He must feel at home, Flandres reflected. He himself had been kept awake when he visited America by the hellish wail of patrol cars dashing through the night.

'He's only just on time,' Howard commented as Flandres reached the barrier. 'Why is it that Americans have to arrive at the very last minute?'

'Because they see no point in waiting. What they accomplish with the time saved is another matter…'

As the Frenchman had anticipated, O'Meara made a great performance of the arrival. When the motorcade swept into the station the American security chief leapt from the leading vehicle almost before it had stopped. Several men, their coats open at the front, followed him as he glared up the platform. The President rather spoilt the effect.

'I want men facing every window before the President moves up the platform,' O'Meara demanded.

'If they're going to take a pot-shot at me, Tim, they're going to,' said the President who stepped out from his car looking as cool and unaffected as a clerk walking home from work. 'And your remark is hardly a great compliment to M. Flandres