Deadlock

32

That's the Avenue de la Liberte where you'll find the Banque Sambre,' Tweed told Butler. 'Leads up from the Place de la Gare. And there is the station. A train is just coming in from the Brussels direction.'

'It's a weird city. Spectacular,' Newman commented, peering over Tweed's shoulder.

The Alouette was flying at a height of several hundred feet, the whole city lay spread out below, the pilot was in touch with Findel control tower as he continued his descent, and the sun shone brilliantly.

Seen from the air, the site of Luxembourg City looks as though in ages past some pagan god wielded an immense axe and clove the ground, leaving behind a vast and deep gulch like a small Grand Canyon. In places the gulch approaches a quarter-mile in width, over a hundred feet in depth.

Possibly the greatest fortress city in Europe, the precipitous walls of the gorge provided a natural defence against armies which roved this part of the continent – a defence enormously reinforced by Louis the Fourteenth's brilliant architect of forts, Vauban.

The Alouette turned east, following the broad highway which leads through open country to the airport. It landed close to the modern building which houses all the facilities associated with airports, a building whose walls seemed to be constructed of glass.

'I want Cargolux,' Tweed told the pilot as they stood on the tarmac. 'If you want refreshment, we won't need you for a little while.'

Harry Butler had already left them, striding towards the airport building to hire a car. As he walked he folded a copy of an Identikit picture Tweed had given him, a facsimile of the photocopy of Igor Zarov given to Tweed in Switzerland. Tweed had simply told him this was probably a portrait of Klein.

'I need a car urgently,' he told the girl behind the desk. 'The make doesn't matter.'

'Would a Citroen suit you?' she asked in English. 'One of our clients has just left a car before boarding a flight.'

'I'll take it.' He began filling in the form as he spoke. 'How long for me to reach the Avenue de la Liberte?'

'At this time of day, no more than twenty minutes. I have a local map. I will mark out the route…"

Klein had leaned up to look out of the window of the compartment he occupied by himself. The express from Brussels was approaching Luxembourg City. It was the sight of the helicopter which caught his attention, flying several hundred feet up and almost parallel with the train.

He took out his monocular glass – the twin of the one he had given to Lara – and focused it on the machine, steadying the glass by perching his elbow on the window ledge. A police job. The word was clearly visible on the fuselage. With Belgian markings.

It appeared to be keeping pace with the express. Probably on traffic patrol. Klein pocketed the glass. No, that couldn't be the reason for its presence. Not in Luxembourg. Not with Belgian markings.

The express slowed, the platform of the station was gliding past, the train stopped. Klein took the light case he always carried off the seat beside him, stood up and prepared to alight. He was going straight to the Banque Sambre to find out what the devil Brand was up to. It was only a short walk from the station exit. Two minutes later he emerged from the booking hall into a blaze of sunshine.