Colin Forbes - The Stockholm syndicate

The priority, Max," Beaurain said quietly, 'is preserving your own life. You'll be working without back-up."

"Any more instructions for Henderson?" Louise asked.

"Find out the exact route of this train from the map inside the station — I think it's Hassleholm, Nassjo, Mjolby, Norrkoping and then Stockholm. Transmit to Anderson not only route but also the timetable. And now we have one or two loose ends to tie up."

"But not Max."

Beaurain had turned to wish the German good luck but already he had vanished into the cavernous depths of the wagon without a trace. How he was going to stick the stench of resin Beaurain couldn't imagine. He leapt down to the ground beside the track. Marker was returning from the patrol-car which was still parked in the distance close to the ferry terminal.

"Everything is organised?" the Dane enquired.

"Your heroin is still aboard."

The ding-dong of the bell warning traffic to steer clear of the road crossing was continuing and the turn-round of the train ferries was very swift. He was asking a very great deal of Marker. Not twenty feet from where they stood was the biggest haul of heroin ever to pass through Denmark. If Marker confiscated it his stock in Copenhagen would rocket; it would solve any problems he might have in fighting his superior; it would quite likely end with his taking over from that same superior.

"We could lose it en route," Marker suggested tentatively, studying the Belgian's reaction closely.

"I have taken certain precautions."

"Which I don't want to know about."

"Which I have no intention of telling you about," Beaurain assured him.

"You think you have a good chance of getting away with it?"

"Providing you personally arrest and hold incommunicado for three days this rail guard and the driver. Can you hold them somewhere in Copenhagen — not here in Elsinore? And you'll need another driver."

"Certainly," Marker agreed with enthusiasm. "Those men in the patrol-car can help. They will handcuff both men and transport them to the police station. From there they will simply disappear for the required three days. You will let me know the ultimate destination of the heroin? I need as soon as possible an official report from Sapo chief Fondberg in Stockholm."

Beaurain and Louise were waiting in the Mercedes, watching the rail wagon being attached to the Stockholm Express. In a matter of minutes it would be aboard the ferry, en route for Halsingborg where the express would move on to Swedish soil and begin its journey towards distant Stockholm.

"Do you think Max is going to be all right?" Louise asked as she accepted a few puffs from Beaurain's cigarette. "That wagon looks very tightly sealed to me."

"It is a huge gamble," the Belgian admitted, 'but it is our only definite link with the Stockholm Syndicate. Max has to follow whoever collects the heroin and see where it leads him. It may well even lead to Hugo himself — if Max is lucky."

"Is there no way to protect Max?"

"We are doing everything we can," Beaurain replied with a note of irritation. "I admit I'm worried that he is sealed up on his own in that wagon. And there is a chance that it will be handled by Horn in an uncharacteristic way. It was at Elsinore."

"I don't get your reasoning," she said, 'because there was Syndicate surveillance at Elsinore, so what different way are you referring to?"

"Horn did not have a platoon of men to back up and watch over the transshipment. If he uses the same method — and it is the more effective method — he will use the minimum number of people to take the consignment off the express when the time comes. Maybe only one man. What he loses in strength of numbers he gains by reducing almost to zero the danger that anything will be seen. And it is the normal technique for handling large dope consignments. Few men, much organisation."

"What back-up does Max really have? I heard you talking to Jock Henderson before he drove back with his team."

Beaurain's face, unusually lined with fatigue, became grim as he checked his watch."Every hour that passes, while Max is inside that wagon alone and nothing happens, increases his chances. Henderson is bringing men down by car from Stockholm to board the express at every stop. Andersen's Sikorsky will be watching the train from the air as far as he can. The point is both Harry Fondberg and I expect the consignment to be off-loaded from the express somewhere before it reaches Stockholm."

"But isn't Stockholm the objective? Won't the centre of the spider's web of the distribution system be there?"

"Yes. But international expresses arriving in the Swedish capital — especially those passing through Denmark — are carefully watched and checked by the Customs and Drug Squad people. Much easier to take off that suitcase at an intermediary stop and transport it the rest of the way by air or road."

Signal from Harry Fondberg, Sapo, to all units in Southern Zone. Sikorsky helicopter hence designated as DRAGONFLY proceeding very roughly on axis Halsingborg-Stockholm to be allowed free access and under no circumstances repeat no circumstances intercepted. Regular reports of progress of DRAGONFLY to be sent to this office for personal attention Fondberg and in grade one security code. Any attempt by outside agencies to interfere with progress of DRAGONFLY to be reported personally and instantly to Fondberg. In case of emergency all Sapo units will use all resources at their command to protect and preserve DRAGONFLY. Fondberg. Sapo HQ Stockholm. 1640 hours.

The signal caused a sensation when received by local Sapo commanders in southern Sweden — which was roughly bisected by the rail route followed by the express carrying the consignment of heroin. Later, when shown a copy of the signal alerting the Sapo apparatus in the designated area, Beaurain considered it a typical Harry Fondberg ploy — clever, ingenious and misleading. It was what was omitted from the signal rather than what was included which was significant.

Chief Inspector Harry Fondberg of Sapo was one of the best friends Jules Beaurain had made during his years in the Brussels police force — and he personally knew every key police and security chief in Western Europe, to say nothing of the counter-espionage people and his contacts inside the United States.

Fondberg was exactly forty years old. Undoubtedly he would have won the prize for the Most Unpopular Man of the Year had a poll been taken of leading Swedish politicians. In a country which prided itself on its tradition of neutrality in all things, Fondberg was the least neutral of men.

"I am not dealing with gentlemen," he once said. "So my methods have to be adapted to my customers."

"Tell me no more," his Minister of Justice had replied. Before he left the Sapo chief's office he added, "But get results."

Now, at the very moment when Beaurain and Louise were expecting the imminent arrival from Stockholm of Peter Lindahl, Fondberg was starting his long wait inside his office. He was prepared to stay up all night until something developed. A methodical man, he faced a wall-map of southern Sweden which showed with a system of pins and string the exact course the train would follow — and, consequently, roughly the route the Sikorsky, Dragonfly, would take. The phone rang. It was Erik Lebert, his assistant.

"The American entered Gamla Stan again. Same address. Still no-one there. He watched for a while and then returned to his hotel. I'm speaking from the lobby. Will I continue surveillance?"

"Yes. You will be relieved later."

Fondberg replaced the receiver and squeezed his chin with his hand as he gazed into the distance, a typical gesture when concentrating. The carefully-worded message told him that Ed Cottel, the American CIA man had once more surveyed an apartment near St. Gertrud Church in Gamla Stan, the Old City on an island joined to the main part of Stockholm by a bridge near the Grand Hotel.