Colin Forbes - The Stockholm syndicate

"I'm going to talk fa st, Jules," he understood her meaning: at night, hotel operators, bored and idle, had been known to listen in on calls. "I'm in Elsinore you've got that?"

"Yes," he said tersely.

"The girl at the reception counter took me to the place where Max was a few hours ago. On Nyhavn."

"Understood."

"She drove a man in a van with the word Helsingor on the side — nothing else, just the name — to Elsinore. He's hugging a suitcase like a gold-brick. Just south of the town they have stopped at a house which backs onto the rail track. There are shunting yards and loaded freight cars. Two have a large consignment of what looks like compressed paper — packing materials."

"Got you."

She was gabbling on, throwing all sorts of details at him irrespective of whether they seemed significant to her. He understood what she was doing exactly; they had used the same technique before.

"My position is a bit exposed. I'm actually inside Elsinore and no-one's about at this hour. The only hotel I've seen is closed."

Position exposed. She was signalling danger to him. Beaurain recalled the chairman of the Banque du Nord who had warned him about the Zenith signal. He told her to hold the line for a second. Checking a map of Denmark, he picked up the receiver.

"Still there? Can you drive north out of the place a few miles?"

"Yes, I'd drive back to Copenhagen but I'm short of petrol."

He gave her the name of a tiny place on the coast, instructed her how to get there by road. "You drive down to the beach, Louise, and wait there with your headlights pointed out to sea. At fifteen minute intervals precisely commencing on the hour you flash your lights six times at five second intervals. Henderson will be coming to collect you himself."

"From the sea?"

"From Firestorm in a small motor-boat. Now, have you got it?"

"I'm leaving at once."

She broke the connection. No prolonged conversation, no asking of a dozen questions which flooded into her tired mind. Just obey orders. And something in Jules' tone had said, get the hell out of there fast. Inside his bedroom, high up in the Royal Hotel, Beaurain replaced the receiver and looked at Kellerman who still sat upright in his chair.

"She's followed two people to Elsinore one is the girl, Black Helmet, the other could be Benny Horn — who, incidentally, was carrying a suitcase. I'm guessing because there was no time to ask her for descriptions. I think she's in danger. I just hope Henderson reaches her in time."

He put in another call to the address near Brussels Midi station from where, earlier, Henderson had directed the watching operation on Serge Litov. As he had anticipated, it was Monique who answered the phone. She had taken over control of the command centre in Brussels. In as few words as possible he told her the signal to be sent to Jock Henderson aboard Firestorm, now somewhere just north of Elsinore. He replaced the receiver again and yawned loudly.

Time you caught up on your sleep," Kellerman suggested. "You take my room and I'll wait here for Monique to phone back."

"Thanks, but I can't sleep until I know Louise is safe aboard Firestorm. You go get some sleep."

"You think I'll sleep until I know she's safe?" the German demanded.

Beaurain grunted tiredly and grinned. Then he sighed.

"It's just that I'm not sure how far the tentacles of this octopus, the Stockholm Syndicate, spread. De Graer shook me: they've threatened his niece now so how far can we really trust him? How far can we trust anyone? That's why our first call in the morning will be on an old friend of mine, Superintendent Bodel Marker of Danish police Intelligence. He runs his outfit from police headquarters. That's only ten minutes away. He's dependable."

"Of course, they do know we're here — I'm sure that girl spotted your name in the hotel register."

"So, we look out for two men — one dressed like an American, the other carrying a brief-case, the brief-case containing the killer's gun."

*

Inside the house on the outskirts of Elsinore, Dr. Benny Horn sat polishing his glasses as he watched Sonia Karnell making up her face. The room was smartly furnished with modern pieces, the walls freshly painted in white; the heavy drapes masking the windows were pulled closed.

"Do you have to keep fiddling with those glasses?" Karnell asked irritably. "What about that girl in the Citroen?"

"I'm thinking about her," Horn replied mildly. "Carl is watching her, and since he hasn't returned yet she must still be inside that phone booth."

"But isn't it madness?" Karnell became more vehement the more she saw how calm Horn was. "She is phoning the Telescope people to tell them where we are."

"I sincerely hope so. My whole plan for destroying them is based on the knowledge that they followed Serge Litov to Copenhagen. You located our primary target, Beaurain, who will be destroyed when he leaves the Royal Hotel. Litov discovered the main Telescope base in England near Guildford — and we have people already searching the area. Now the girl may lead us to the remainder of Telescope's force on the European mainland."

He broke off as a lean-faced man dressed inconspicuously in dark blue came silently into the room. "Developments, Carl?"

"The girl finished phoning. She's on her way back to the car."

Horn turned to Sonia Karnell. "So now you follow her. And use the Porsche parked at the back she will not recognise it. Carl has placed the explosive device in a box in the boot."

"Why not kill her here?" Karnell snuggled coaxingly against his velvet jacket.

"Because we don't want blood all over the place here. It is our respectable house. I've been known here for many years."

"That's a laugh," she said quickly in French, the language they invariably used together, although it was neither's mother tongue. He pushed her away roughly. The eyes behind the rimless lens had lost their placidity, were cold and darkly intense. Eyes which had frightened countless men in their time.

"You will not joke about such things. You will not argue when I give you an order." She struggled into her duffel jacket, shaken by his reaction.

"You will follow her because she may well lead you to another Telescope base in Denmark. Find out all you can, then use the device. Return here as soon as you can. There is much to do tomorrow. Understood?"

"Of course."

"Good luck. Be quick you must not lose her."

Unlocking the car, Louise Hamilton glanced round in the darkness, listened for five minutes, which is too long for anyone to keep perfectly quiet. Her next precaution was to take her small torch from her shoulder-bag and shine it on the hood. The hardly visible match was where she had left it; no-one had raised the bonnet in her absence.

As she started the engine and drove slowly out of Elsinore she had the route map of Denmark open on the seat beside her. It took her two minutes to realise she was being followed. She was not surprised. Never underestimate the enemy — one of Jock Henderson's favourite maxims. Louise Hamilton had assumed only a short time after leaving Copenhagen that the couple must suspect that her car was a tail.

To escape any risk of detection she could have hung well back and almost certainly lost the van. The other option was to subordinate every other consideration — including personal safety — to making sure she did not lose the van. She had chosen the second option, and must have been spotted within ten minutes of leaving Copenhagen.

Now the roles were reversed. Heading north from Elsinore towards the remote rendezvous on the shoreline with Henderson, Louise was aware of the Porsche following at a discreet distance but not so discreet that there was any danger of the sports car losing her.

Karnell concentrated on the red lights ahead, flicking her eyes away from them at intervals to maintain night vision. The Citroen puzzled her — because of the direction it was taking. The girl behind the wheel then disconcerted her more severely because of a sudden change in her way of driving. The car accelerated and disappeared round a bend in the road. Karnell pressed her foot down, tore round the corner and then jammed on her brakes.