multi-national corporations have transferred vast sums to the Syndicate. Furthermore ..." He raised his voice at Voisin again, who closed his mouth. "Furthermore," he repeated, 'the sums of money at the Syndicate's disposal are so enormous that whoever controls it wields power almost without precedent. Gentlemen, I suggest the first priority of this meeting is not Telescope it is to co-operate in tracking down and destroying the Syndicate." He looked at the Commissioner. "I have finished, M. Voisin for the moment at any rate."
"I agree with Mr. Cottel," said Peter Hausen.
"Commissioner Voisin, I agree with my colleague, Peter Hausen, and, therefore, with Mr. Cottel," the French counter-espionage representative added crisply.
"Shall we have a show of hands?" enquired Beaurain gently.
"That will not be necessary," Voisin snapped, anxious to avoid any further demonstration of the united front against him. "The first requirement, surely, is to prove the Syndicate exists."
"Assume it exists and go on from there," growled Cottel and lit a cigarette.
"Who is behind it then?" demanded Voisin.
"The Kremlin," replied Cottel.
It was 7.30 p.m. when Louise Hamilton arrived at Beaurain's apartment off the Boulevard Waterloo. Confident she had not been followed, she parked the Mercedes in the ancient garage and let herself inside the first-floor apartment.
The living-room was expensively furnished, the kind of place you would expect a widower to live in - except that it was tidy and organised. After her experience at police headquarters she didn't feel hungry, so she slipped off her shoes and flopped onto a couch. The reaction was setting in. She could hear the voice of the detective in her mind: I'm shooting - she resisted arrest!
The entire Brussels police force knew Jules Beaurain. He had always been popular because he treated his men fairly and was incorruptible. Since his resignation many of them especially at headquarters where he was a frequent visitor had come to know Louise as "Jules' friend'. They knew nothing about her work for Telescope. The phone rang. She lifted the receiver and said, " Oui ?"
"Louise Hamilton, n'est-ce pas ? You had better get back to your own country by the first plane."
"Who is this? I love callers without the guts to identify themselves," Louise said coolly.
The voice was a woman's, probably in her early thirties. Her command of English was good but there was an accent Louise couldn't place. Let the little bitch chatter on a while longer, she thought.
"If you hang around we have people expert in breaking legs. Then they go on to the hands. You are left-handed, n'est-ce pas ?"
"Why not come and deliver the message yourself?" Louise suggested. "I'd love to meet you face to face."
"When your face has been ruined you will not talk in this way, I am sure of that!" The voice ended with a note of venom, and the connection was broken.
Louise replaced the receiver slowly, automatically noting the time the call had ended. Beaurain had an unlisted number - how had the woman managed to obtain it?
The second - more alarming - thought was how the caller had known that she would find Louise in the apartment. It was the first time for over a week she had entered the place. She might have been trailed from police headquarters but she had taken great pains to see that she was not followed. That left only one other equally unsettling solution. The apartment was being watched on a round-the-clock basis.
She went over to the window and peered through the net curtain. Below she saw the narrow, deserted road. She stared at the first-floor windows opposite but they were also masked. Were there watchers behind the net curtains?
Louise went into the kitchen to calm herself by preparing dinner. Somewhere in the same city another woman was probably sitting down to her meal after making a phone call.
"Did she sound scared?" enquired Dr. Berlin as he scooped a generous helping of melon.
"No!" Sonia Karnell
"I agree with Mr. Cottel," said Peter Hausen.
"Commissioner Voisin, I agree with my colleague, Peter Hausen, and, therefore, with Mr. Cottel," the French counter-espionage representative added crisply.
"Shall we have a show of hands?" enquired Beaurain gently.
"That will not be necessary," Voisin snapped, anxious to avoid any further demonstration of the united front against him. "The first requirement, surely, is to prove the Syndicate exists."
"Assume it exists and go on from there," growled Cottel and lit a cigarette.
"Who is behind it then?" demanded Voisin.
"The Kremlin," replied Cottel.
It was 7.30 p.m. when Louise Hamilton arrived at Beaurain's apartment off the Boulevard Waterloo. Confident she had not been followed, she parked the Mercedes in the ancient garage and let herself inside the first-floor apartment.
The living-room was expensively furnished, the kind of place you would expect a widower to live in - except that it was tidy and organised. After her experience at police headquarters she didn't feel hungry, so she slipped off her shoes and flopped onto a couch. The reaction was setting in. She could hear the voice of the detective in her mind: I'm shooting - she resisted arrest!
The entire Brussels police force knew Jules Beaurain. He had always been popular because he treated his men fairly and was incorruptible. Since his resignation many of them especially at headquarters where he was a frequent visitor had come to know Louise as "Jules' friend'. They knew nothing about her work for Telescope. The phone rang. She lifted the receiver and said, " Oui ?"
"Louise Hamilton, n'est-ce pas ? You had better get back to your own country by the first plane."
"Who is this? I love callers without the guts to identify themselves," Louise said coolly.
The voice was a woman's, probably in her early thirties. Her command of English was good but there was an accent Louise couldn't place. Let the little bitch chatter on a while longer, she thought.
"If you hang around we have people expert in breaking legs. Then they go on to the hands. You are left-handed, n'est-ce pas ?"
"Why not come and deliver the message yourself?" Louise suggested. "I'd love to meet you face to face."
"When your face has been ruined you will not talk in this way, I am sure of that!" The voice ended with a note of venom, and the connection was broken.
Louise replaced the receiver slowly, automatically noting the time the call had ended. Beaurain had an unlisted number - how had the woman managed to obtain it?
The second - more alarming - thought was how the caller had known that she would find Louise in the apartment. It was the first time for over a week she had entered the place. She might have been trailed from police headquarters but she had taken great pains to see that she was not followed. That left only one other equally unsettling solution. The apartment was being watched on a round-the-clock basis.
She went over to the window and peered through the net curtain. Below she saw the narrow, deserted road. She stared at the first-floor windows opposite but they were also masked. Were there watchers behind the net curtains?
Louise went into the kitchen to calm herself by preparing dinner. Somewhere in the same city another woman was probably sitting down to her meal after making a phone call.
"Did she sound scared?" enquired Dr. Berlin as he scooped a generous helping of melon.
"No!" Sonia Karnell
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