Free Program for a Puppet by Roland Perry Page B

off with his companion, turning twice to look back at the Russian.
    Confused, but not wanting to be fooled, Bromovitch acted quickly. He beckoned the Skull and the other agent and ordered them to stay close to the couple, who had moved into the dining room. When they had settled down at a table, the agents did the same nearby. On finishing his coffee, the man calling himself Gramanni stood up and marched to a toilet on the other side of the airport lounge. The agents moved off after him. The man had just finished at the urinal when the agents walked in. As he was washing his hands, he looked up inquiringly at the three who had surrounded him. Before he could react, he was hauled and pushed into a cubical. The Skull had him in a strong headlock, his bicephard against the man’s throat. The other agent had a glove roughly over the man’s mouth to stifle cries for help. The man’s eyes bulged with fear as Bromovitch tore at his inside coat pockets, grabbing all his documents. The Russian fingered through them, causing bits of paper and business cards to fall to the floor. Passport, driver’s license, personal photos and company identification were all marked clearly: Silvio D. Gramanni, Managing Director, Gramanni & Co., Milano.
    Bromovitch gathered the papers and shoved them brusquely back into the man’s coat pockets, warning him to keep quiet about what had happened. The Skull released his grip from the man’s throat and he took in several quick gulps of air. His attackers left him disheveled and sitting on the toilet bowl.
    Back in the lounge, Bromovitch had the Skull page Graham once more. It was 5:29 P.M . The three circled the lounge watching people filing through customs and into the waiting area that led to the planes and the London flight. But Graham did not appear to be with them. Bromovitch decided they should wait another twenty minutes.
    At six Graham left the art gallery and drove to Johannesgasse in the city center. He locked his gear in the trunk, caught a trolley car to the thirteenth-century St. Stephen’s Church, and headed for the roof restaurant Haus Haus, which gave a fine view of the church. After spending an hour and a half over a light meal, he returned to his car and drove to the train station. It took him time to find a parking space, and when he got to the ticket booth it was too late to buy a first-class ticket to Paris.
    He settled for the second-class couchette. It wasn’t private, but it would have to do for the eighteen-hour trip.
    Looking cautiously around at the faces of people scurrying for the train, the Australian moved briskly onto the platform and stepped on the train at the nearest doorway. As he began to wend his way down the narrow passageway past other passengers to his couchette, he kept looking down at the people on the platform. Graham’s skin prickled as he noticed a tall man wearing a light gray overcoat and hat. He seemed to be paying careful attention to people running for the train. The Australian looked away and kept moving. He found his couchette, threw his valise on the bottom bunk and slumped back into it. Several people were moving past,checking the numbers of the couchettes. Graham was relieved that it appeared no one was going to join him.
    Just as the train began to pull out of the station a man moved past the open door of the couchette and fleetingly locked eyes with Graham as he did so. It was the man who moments earlier had been checking the passengers from the platform.
    The Australian stayed in his couchette for an hour before wandering down to the dining car. Many people were seated taking meals. Several men and women sat on stools at a bar with a large mirror behind it. The Australian immediately noticed that one man at the bar with his back to him had an unusually bony bald head, similar to the description given to him by Frau Schiller at the hotel in Vienna. The man had a hat and a light overcoat over his knee. He was the