Colin Forbes - The Stockholm syndicate

"Bodel, I think they tried a diversion — at least that girl who got away on the motor-bike did. Her reaction was based on alarm — alarm at seeing a colleague of mine, whom she recognised, watching the ferry terminal. We don't go chasing after high-powered motorbikes — that may well be just what they would like."

"Why?" Marker demanded irritably

"Because," Beaurain said grimly, spacing out his words with great deliberation, 'the attempt at a diversion suggests to me that what you're after is under your nose." He got out of the Mercedes and closed the door with a hard clunk.

"They would have guards, watchers," Marker protested.

"They had," Beaurain pointed out. "The big man himself was in the Volvo. His girl was about to patrol round the station. There was a third Syndicate member — the man on the motor-bike. There will be more."

"I get the sensation that I'm already being watched," said Marker, his hands plunged deep inside his jacket pockets.

"You are — I have at least a dozen men within shooting distance of where we're walking now."

"I said earlier that Telescope was the only organisation capable of destroying the Stockholm Syndicate," Marker murmured in an undertone. They stopped as they reached Louise.

"Can I talk?" she asked, covering her mouth with a cupped hand as she lit one of her rare cigarettes. She wasn't even looking at them. Curious, Marker glanced quickly along the axis of her observation. All he could see were two large open-sided goods wagons. Behind them an engine was moving along the line to link up with them. A railway man with a flag guided the engine-driver. It all seemed perfectly normal to Marker.

"This is it," said Louise, once Beaurain had confirmed that she could speak in front of Marker, who was still mystified. He glanced around more carefully, suddenly aware that the previously almost deserted area in front of the station had become populated. Several passengers had drifted out of the reception hall into the open. Tourists with knapsacks on their backs, two men holding fishing rods. At least Marker thought they were fishing rods.

Other men were now wandering across the road towards the ferry terminal. One of them, tall and sandy-haired, carrying a long sports bag, walked with a distinctly military carriage.

Crossing the road, he walked a short distance further on beyond the ferry terminal. Marker's eyes narrowed as he watched him put the bag down on the floor and raise a small compact object like a camera to his eyes while he scanned the harbour with the eagerness of a photographic buff always on the lookout for new subjects. It occurred to Marker that the camera could easily be a camouflaged walkie-talkie.;, Beaurain's face was expressionless as he also watched;; Jock Henderson take up the best strategic position for viewing the ferry terminal, its approaches, the railway station and the two wagons waiting to be put aboard the next ferry, which was entering the harbour and |s|| turning slightly to head for the landing. Everything so normal. The sun beating down, radiating warmth out of a perfectly clear sky. The steady thump of the wheels of the engine approaching the two wagons it would push across the road and up inside the bowels of the ferry once the vessel had berthed and was ready for its new cargo.

"You said "this is it". I see nothing out of the ordinary," said Marker.

"You're not supposed to."

"The man with the flag guiding the engine," said Louise. "He's been waiting there for fifteen minutes. He kept looking towards that man on the motor-bike who picked up the girl."

Thunk! The slow-moving engine hit the rear of the two wagons and the railway man dropped his flag to indicate contact. A shade late, Beaurain noted. The railway man rolled up his flag. Behind them they could hear a massive gushing as the incoming train ferry displaced quantities of harbour water, the vessel's propellers already in reverse to slow her down and ensure a gentle contact with Danish soil. Customs officials and Immigration men holding brief-cases were moving restlessly in the vicinity of the landing point. All perfectly normal.

"Have you any men with you?" Beaurain asked suddenly.

"No," Marker admitted reluctantly. "I'm not supposed to be here, remember?" He glanced at Louise but she was staring in the direction of the shunting yards and apparently not listening. "I couldn't bring a team that would have alerted my chief. So, if the Syndicate is here in strength "

"We'll deal with them and you'll vanish," Beaurain told him crisply. "Officially you were never here."

"I bloody well was — and am! You may need some official backing if it comes to a shoot-out. Where is the dope?"

"The first wagon full of packing materials," said Louise quietly. "Great sheets of it perched on end. That rail guard who flagged down the engine before it arrived he was patrolling up and down beside the first wagon. During the night those two wagons were further down the track behind the house I followed Horn to. Work it out for yourself."

"Packing materials?" Marker repeated.

"Ideal for cutting out a secret compartment to take the suitcase with the heroin. And I saw Horn carry just such a suitcase out of his house on Nyhavn only last night if that was Horn behind the wheel of the Volvo."

"That was Horn," Marker agreed. "This suitcase…"

"It was driven to Elsinore by that black-haired girl who tried to chop me."

They were running short of time. Already the train ferry from Sweden had stopped its engines, its ramp was being lowered to connect with the rail lines on the quay.

"She tried to chop me," Louise continued tersely, 'because I was in the exact position to observe the heroin for her to risk what she did I had to be in a most sensitive area." She lost patience as Marker looked unconvinced. "Dammit, do I have to draw you a picture? What the hell was Horn showing himself in this area for? Because it's his responsibility to see the consignment gets through. The money and effort they have invested in this load must be enormous. If we can take it away from them we'll have dealt them a savage blow."

"And possibly just before the first full meeting of the entire Syndicate is held," Beaurain murmured. Aloud he said, "So what do we do as the first step, Louise?"

"Scare the guts out of that railway man with the flag," Louise replied instantly. "I'm convinced he knows where the heroin is hidden, that he's been guarding it until it's safely on its way to Sweden. And we may have only minutes to do it. Any suggestions, Max?" She looked at the German, who nodded and began to move.

Beaurain walked a few paces away and beckoned Louise over. They stopped and stared out at the regatta-like scene in the glittering Oresund.

"We are here in Elsinore for another reason- to meet our chief man in Stockholm, Peter Lindahl. For over a year his whole task has been to locate the head man behind the Stockholm Syndicate. Last night he phoned me at the Royal Hotel from somewhere between Stockholm and Halsingborg. He has discovered the identity of Hugo."

"Why didn't he tell you on the phone?"

"You must be tired," Beaurain chided. "You think that Lindahl is going to trust a hotel switchboard? Our conversation was well wrapped up, but that's what he meant. He's driving now to Halsingborg and he'll soon be coming over. He told me he has a car space reserved on Delfin II for its midday crossing."

"So within an hour we'll know the monster who is responsible for so much terror and cold-blooded killing,"

"Bodel," Beaurain began genially, putting an arm round the Dane's shoulder, 'you said that only Telescope had any chance of defeating the Stockholm Syndicate. I don't want you out of the way in some bar, just maybe standing over here by the kerb so you can help out if the local police arrive."