Andromeda Breakthrough

'That makes this matter official, but of course, everything will be done by us.'

It was the comment Fleming had expected; had been waiting for. He pushed open the door and walked in. Kaufman looked up, startled, and then went on talking as if he had seen no one.

'We, that is to say Intel, will make the anti-bacteria and market it, though we will not hold our fellow human beings to ransom. That was Fraulein Gamboul's idea. I stopped it.'

Fleming strode forward. 'You're not in a position to dispense charity, Kaufman.'

'And you are not entitled to be in this office without permission,'

retorted Kaufman.

'There are no Azaran guards to protect you now,' Fleming said, 'not even a receptionist.' He moved closer to Neilson so that they both faced the German.

Kaufman picked up his case and extracted a cigarello. He kept the match against the glowing end for longer than necessary. His hand was shaking a little.

'It is no use bearing old grudges,' he said, removing the cigarello. 'One does what one has to do for the superiors one works for. One does as they order. But at the same time one tries to do good.' There was a whine in his voice as he uneasily watched his visitors.

Neilson stood up, clenching the edge of the desk. His knuckles were white with the pressure he put into the grip.

'You killed my son,' he said with deceptive quietness. 'He was shot before the eyes of his mother and myself at your order. If I'd had the means and if you weren't still essential to fly me out I'd have killed you the moment I entered this office.'

'Please.' said Kaufman.

'How did Gamboul die?' Fleming snapped.

'The balcony of her house. It fell. I was there. I saw it. She was mad, completely mad. I couldn't save her.'

'Did you try?'

'No,' the German yelled. 'I could have dragged her inside when the building started to fall. But I didn't. I chose to save - '

' - Your own skin?

'The world!' Kaufman stood up and faced them defiantly across the desk. He saw a faint derisive smile on Fleming's face and no smile at all on Neilson's, and before either man could move he had dodged round the chair and darted to a small door that led to a private staircase. He tore it open and then backed away. Yusel was standing there, expressionless, with a small curved Bedouin knife in his hand. Kaufman moved back to the desk. 'You cannot get in my way like this!' His voice rose. 'I am doing business fairly. I'm trying to help you all!'

Fleming moved nearer the window. 'The weather is holding up,' he said. 'The plane should get through on time.

Before it arrives, you'll provide the help you talk about.

You'll confirm your orders for Professor Neilson's flight.

You'll make quite certain that it flies to London. That's the last thing you'll organise here. Get on with it.'

Kaufman hesitated, then nodded. He picked up a pen and reached to a side drawer in the desk as if to take a note-heading.

He moved amazingly quickly. In a split second he had leaped up, a gun in his hand, and moved backwards to the outer door.

'This is not your game, gentlemen,' he taunted them. 'You should not try it.' Then he turned and ran for the stairs.

Fleming and Neilson were close on his heels, but he gained his lead as he leaped recklessly downstairs. Fleming saw Abu look up and start running towards the foot of the staircase.

Fleming's shout of warning coincided with the bark of the pistol shot. Abu crumpled in a heap. Such was the onrush of Kaufman's flight that he was unable to stop in time, and he fell headlong over his victim's body.

Before he could rise Neilson was on him, quickly followed by Yusel. Fleming's thought were for Abu and he knelt down and lifted the Arab in his arms. The head fell backwards, blood vomiting from the mouth. Fleming could not be certain whether the staring eyes were sightless or trying to send him a message. Very gently he let the body rest prone on the floor.

Neilson was insanely pummelling into Kaufman. 'Leave him,' Fleming shouted. He went up to the weeping, yammering German. 'We're not going to kill you,' he said. 'There's a murder charge for you to answer in Geneva and in other places, if the courts aren't all destroyed.'

'I do not make these things happen,' Kaufman whined. 'I have to obey.'

Fleming turned away, unable to stomach any more. 'Keep hold of him, Yusel,' he ordered. 'Get him down to the airport.

Take his gun. He'll give you no trouble.'

'Wait!'

They spun around and saw Dawnay standing in the entrance.

'What are you all doing here?' she asked. Then she saw Abu's body. Fleming explained, and then allowed her to lead him back upstairs to the main offices.

'You come too,' she commanded Neilson and Kaufman.

Yusel had gone out and now returned with a white robe with which he covered the body of his dead cousin. They all went into Gamboul's room and Dawnay sat at Gamboul's desk with Kaufman facing her and guarded by Yusel. Fleming wandered uneasily over to the window, but she called him back.

'John,' she said. 'It's not as simple as you may think: we haven't finished with Herr Kaufman yet.'

She looked up into Kaufman's bruised and dejected face.

'To whom did you report in Vienna?'

Kaufman did not answer at once, but when Dawnay shifted her gaze from him to Yusel he changed his mind.

'The Board of Directors,' he said sulkily.

'To whom you reported Gamboul's death?'

'Yes.'

'And who is taking over here?'

Kaufman glanced away for a moment. 'I am.'

'But you are not a director.'

He drew himself up with a return of assurance: 'I am temporarily in charge.'

'Until?' Dawnay asked. There was another pause.

'You'd better tell us the easy way,' said Fleming.

'Or perhaps,' Neilson added, 'you'd rather I broke your neck.'

'There are three directors coming on the plane today, from Vienna,' Kaufman addressed himself entirely to Dawnay, as if to a judge whom he might expect to be lenient.

Dawnay looked only mildly surprised.

'Three?'

'They should have come before!' He began to speak quickly, with mounting passion. 'Fraulein Gamboul was not equal to it. It deranged her, but she would not have anyone else. We have been ridiculously understaffed for so great a project; but she had considerable influence with the Chairman.'

He gave a knowing, leering wink. 'She was an attractive woman. But now it is different; I have put it all on proper business footings. We will have directors, and executives and assistants - they are bringing many today.'

'Are they ?' said Dawnay with interest.

'Oh yes. And any kind of reinforcements we need. So - '

He turned triumphantly to Fleming and Neilson, but Dawnay cut him short.

'So we shall have to put you all under guard,' she said calmly. 'That can be arranged for. Meanwhile, as soon as the aircraft is in, you'll help us send a Telex in your own code to Vienna.'

'To say what?'

'That they have arrived safely and that all is well and you need no further help. You will also give us the names and full particulars of your chairman and other directors in Europe, and all addresses and telephone numbers you can find here in the office.' She turned to her American colleague. I'll give you a report to take to London, Professor Neilson, and as much of the anti-bacterium as I can. They should be able to get you there by nightfall.'

CHAPTER TWELVE CLEAR SKY

THE Prime Minister received the emergency committee in his private study on the first floor of 10 Downing Street.

Although he had insisted on the fact being kept secret, he had been in bed for two days. His doctors diagnosed the trouble as cardiac asthma, which was as good a description as any for the strain felt by everyone of more than middle age as breathing became more and more difficult. The news of Dawnay's miracle in Azaran had now reached Whitehall, but its effects were still unfelt.