Free Year of the Golden Ape by Colin Forbes Page B

this business somewhere,' he suggested.
    'Can you give me a name?' Hahnemann enquired.
    'Winter.'
    'I have never heard of or met anyone with that name.' The German clasped his hands across his stomach and looked up at the ceiling. 'Perhaps if you could give me a description?'
    'I've no idea what he looks like ...'
    Sullivan heard himself saying this. God, how vague can you get? In another minute or two the German would start shuffling papers on his desk, maybe even look pointedly at his watch. It was hopeless.
    'Would you like some coffee?' Hahnemann ordered coffee over the intercom and then excused himself. He was gone for thirty minutes by Sullivan's watch and the Englishman wondered whether he was calling the police. When he came back into the office he was followed by an attractive girl carrying a tray with the coffee. 'I will pour it,' Hahnemann said. He waited until they were alone. 'I apologise for being so long, but I decided to phone Mr Harper in London. I hope you don't mind - documents can so easily be faked these days.'
    'A wise precaution.' Sullivan was puzzled. Why would Hahnemann take this trouble if he had nothing to say to him? The German took out a photograph which he placed face down on the desk, then he poured the coffee.
    'Mr Sullivan, I imagine you know most of the top shipping people in London ?'
    'Most of them, yes - it's my job.' Sullivan carefully did not look at the concealed photograph as Hahnemann went back and sat down behind his desk.
    'Charles Manders?'
    'He's an old friend ...'
    'Willie Smethwick?'
    'Another friend...'
    'Arnold Ross?'
    'Had lunch with him a couple of months ago.'
    Hahnemann turned up the photograph and pushed it over the desk. 'Is that man familiar? Specifically, is he Manders, Smeth-wick or Ross?'
    'No, he isn't...'
    'He isn't Arnold Ross?'
    'Quite definitely not. Ross is a small, well-built man with a face like an amiable gargoyle. This time of the year, he's usually off on a cruise to the West Indies.'
    'That man called on me five days ago and passed himself off as Arnold Ross of Ross Tankers.'
    Sullivan stared at the picture with fascination, the first picture which had ever been taken of Winter, except for passport purposes when the likeness changed as rapidly as the names. It showed a distinguished-looking man wearing a bowler hat and an expensive overcoat striding up a staircase. He appeared to be staring at the camera without seeing it.
    Like a Guards officer, Sullivan thought. Trim moustache, erect bearing, a clipped look about the face. All the cliches. God, he even carried a tightly-rolled umbrella on his arm. The absolute personification of a European's idea of the City Englishman. And he existed - you could see him walking past the Bank of England each morning at 9.30. With nothing to go on, Sullivan had the strongest of hunches: this man was Winter.
    'How did you take the photograph?' Sullivan asked.
    Hahnemann looked embarrassed, then laughed. 'I am giving away my trade secrets. I have a fetish for security, I admit it. But we live in a dangerous world and one day someone who does not like my customers may try to sabotage a ship I am building. So everyone who conies into the building is secretly photographed. We have your own picture, Mr Sullivan. I hope I have not shocked you - Watergate and all that...'
    'Thank God you do use a hidden camera. You take just one shot?'
    'No, several...' Hahnemann took an envelope out of his breast pocket and spilled glossy prints on to the desk. 'I showed you the best, although this is more of a closeup.'
    Winter was nearer the camera, probably just turning on to the staircase landing - his head was turned and showed in profile. He had a cold, very alert look. 'Who is this man ?' Hahnemann asked.
    'Probably a dangerous terrorist.'
    'I find it hard to believe - he was in my office, sitting where you are sitting.'
    That's probably his secret,' Sullivan commented drily. 'He doesn't look the part. Before I leave Hamburg could I have