Free Double Jeopardy by Colin Forbes Page B

Industrie and Gewerbemuseum Eintritt: Fr. 2.50.
    'Warner had that in his own wallet when he was killed,' Martel continued. have my fingers crossed…'
    'You can uncross them,' she said cheerfully. 'It is an entrance ticket to the St. Gallen Embroidery Museum. The building is in Vadianstrasse – near the Old Town. Not ten minutes' walk away…'
    'Look at the back.'
    Claire turned over the ticket and saw words written in a script she recognised. Charles Warner's. She was probably looking at the last words he wrote before he had embarked on his fatal boat trip from Lindau.
    St. 11.50. May 28.
    She looked at Martel and he detected a hint of excitement in her expression as he drank his eighth cup of coffee. He had already consumed seven croissants, three slices of ham and a large piece of cheese. He was beginning to feel better.
    'May 28 – that's today,' she said and checked her watch. 'Nine o'clock. St. must stand for Stahl. In less than three hours we shall be talking to him…'
    I shall be talking to him,' Martel corrected her.
    'I thought I was part of the team…'
    `You told me Warner never let you attend these meetings. And if whoever turns up sees you he may take fright…'
    `He won't recognise you,' she persisted stubbornly.
    Martel quietly blew up. 'Now listen to me, Claire Hofer. You're not going to like this but there's no nice way to get the message across. I work alone – because then the only person I have to worry about is me. And me is all I've got – so I worry about me quite a lot.'
    `I don't have to come inside the museum…'
    'I haven't finished yet, so kindly shut up! Ever since I landed in Zurich nothing has been what it seemed. At the Centralhof apartment Delta had put in a girl to take me out. I find another girl in a cupboard – sorry about this, but it's necessary – and I'm led to think she's Claire Hofer…'
    'I told you why we arranged it like that, damn it!'
    Her face flushed with rage and her eyes blazed. He admired her spirit- he might even be able to use it – but he had to get his point across.
    `Next thing,' he went on patiently, 'is a holocaust in Bahnhofstrasse – and within one hour all signs of it disappear…' `Ferdy Arnold's wash-and-brush-up squad,' she said shortly. `Come again?'
    'You said yourself earlier you thought they had cleaned up the carnage to keep it quiet-to avoid worrying tourists. Arnold has this special team of engineers, glaziers, builders – you name it – standing by in case of a riot or terrorist outrage. They seal off the area temporarily and their motto is "as good as new within thirty minutes". They even have experts who fob off the press with some phoney story if necessary…'
    `That's what I mean,' Martel said as he buttered another croissant. 'Nothing is what it seems. Delta – for some reason I have yet to fathom – advertises its outrages. Arnold pretends nothing has happened. He even spreads some lying story which fools Nagel of Intelligence. You really expect my meeting with this Stahl will turn out to be straightforward? Damned if I do.'
    `And yet you're walking headlong into it?'
    `I'll arrive at exactly 11.45. After breakfast you show me the place…'
    `The rendezvous is 11.5o; she reminded him.
    `So I arrive five minutes early and wait to see who does come into that room. Warner could have been followed.'
    'He was always extremely careful,' she observed.
    `He is now extremely dead…'
    In Munich the wide avenue of Maximilianstrasse leads straight as a ruler from Max-Joseph-Platz to the Bavarian state Parliament on an eminence overlooking the river Isar. To reach the east bank it passes over two bridges as it crosses a large island. The body was found trapped on the brink of one of the giant sluices below the first bridge.
    It was discovered about two hours before Martel sat down to fortify himself at the Metropol in St. Gallen with a considerable breakfast. A lawyer on his way to work glanced over the parapet as he crossed the bridge. In the