The Chief Officer of SID relaxed. ‘As we are going to be working closely together on this case, shall we take on a nice and friendly first name basis? I work better that way. So, is that okay with you chaps? Lionel, Ian?’
‘I haven’t a problem with it Alex, as long as you don’t call me, Li.’
Me neither, Alex,’ added Morris, smiling at Dugdale’s remark.
Chapter 16
At the agreed rendezvous point, Trost looked at his watch. It was 5.05 in the afternoon. He cursed in German. ‘Where in heavens is Falcon? The damn fool should be here, by now.’
Baumann sat next to him in the driver’s seat and casually lit another cigarette. ‘Relax, he will be here. He must have been delayed, that is all.’
As they sat inside the car, parked at the turn to the rocket test site, a blue unmarked police car, passed them. Trost looked at it, noticing only one occupant.
Dugdale waited to turn onto the main road to see the black saloon in the lay-by. He felt he was being scrutinised by the two men inside the vehicle. Beside him on the passenger seat wrapped in plastic, was the control lever for the securing clamp, retrieved from Gantry 1.
Earlier, Swan and the Inspector, had climbed into their fire suits, donned the hard hats and walked down to the crime scene. Swan had taken a good look over the area, discussing theories with the Dugdale on how the killer may have carried out the murder.
After commenting on the Black Arrow launch vehicle, poised above their heads, Swan had noticed some scrapes on the wall, next to the lever mounting brackets, suggesting Powell may have struggled with his killer in some way. After surveying the scene, they walked across the site to the other Gantry, for the control lever.
Dugdale had held it in both hands, giving it a slow-motion swing, to test its weight and impact. In his head, he had mentally measured its length, and by examining the business end of the lever, was certain, the one missing from Gantry 2, was the murder weapon.
These thoughts, were still on his mind, as he drove down the A3054, on the way to Cowes.
Further along the road, a black car passed him, and noticing this, his thoughts turned back to the car he had seen, waiting at the turn to the rocket site.
The two men inside had stared at him momentarily, and for a brief, cold-chilling moment, reminded him of an incident three years ago, when on a street in West London, not far from Wormwood Scrubs Prison, three unarmed Metropolitan policemen had been shot dead, after approaching a van with three suspicious looking men inside it. A few months later, when the opportunity arose, this had been one of the factors which had swayed his decision to take the transfer to the Isle of Wight.
At his factory in Ahrensburg, Gunther Fleischer picked up the receiver on his office desk.
‘Falcon,’ he blurted, checking the clock on the wall. ‘Are you with Kestrel and Osprey?’ He hadn’t expected his call.
Fleischer listened, as his Highdown operative explained the situation to him. ‘So, you are waiting to be interviewed by this, Mr Swan from Whitehall. Can you not just escape?’ He was informed of why the man could not. ‘I understand perfectly. I will expect a call from my men, very soon informing me, you have not met with them, and I will tell them of the situation. In the meantime, I suggest you do what you have to, when this Mr Swan talks to you. You must contact me, as soon as you can, after you have seen this man.’
Fleischer slammed the receiver down onto its cradle, thinking what a mess this man had got himself into, by murdering the British engineer. He also started to feel slightly agitated by this Mr Swan, from Whitehall. What would he find out? And more importantly, what damage could it do to his plans? He picked up the receiver again and dialled a London phone number. After a few moments, someone had answered his call, and Fleischer spoke into the mouthpiece. ‘This is Merlin, I need you to use your status, to look into someone who could be a threat to the operation. His name is Alex Swan. I want you to find out who he is, and what he does in Whitehall.’
On the other end of the line, the person acknowledged the request, and then hung up, leaving Fleischer listening to a dead line.
Later, in Mitchell’s office, Swan sat with Detective Sergeant Morris, perusing the files of the observation team, who had been present in the Blockhouse during the last test. They had agreed a specific order, in which to interview them. ‘I think we will leave Mr Gruber, until last,’ Swan decided, holding the German fuel engineer’s file. ‘There’s a lot more, I need to go through with him, which may also help me with the Ruger case. I also understand that apart from Gruber, and the late Karl Ruger, there are other ex-Nazi German engineers working here.’
Morris lifted his head from the file, he was studying. ‘Mitchell told me earlier, that there are two others, Jürgen Schmitt and Gundars Leuchfeld, but they’re on their days off. All the personnel, work a four-on, four-off shift.’
The SID man arranged the chairs ready for the interviews. ‘Okay, Ian, I think we’re ready. Let’s get through this, so these poor chaps can go home.’
Swan picked up the receiver to dial the internal extension, connecting him with Loretta Wilkins, who answered promptly, listening, as he requested her to fetch the first witness.
Fleischer was about to leave his office to go home, when his telephone rang again, and on the other end of the line, was a confused Andreas Trost.
The two men had realised something must have gone wrong, and decided to drive back to nearby Totland, to find a telephone box. Trost gave his Kestrel codename, informing Fleischer, Falcon did not show at the agreed meeting place.
In the next few minutes, Fleischer issued his two henchmen new instructions. ‘Book into a guesthouse, and then contact me. I need you to stay on the island until I know the outcome of Falcon’s questioning by this Mr Swan.’ Fleischer finished the call, walked down the stairs, and climbed into his recently purchased white Mercedes 280SE saloon. As he sat behind the wheel, the engine running on idle, his thoughts again were of this man from Whitehall. Having already assumed that he was highly experienced in his field, Swan’s expected methods of investigation, began to haunt the German businessman’s mind.
After spending the last forty minutes giving Swan and Morris, his account of events leading up to the incident, Ronald Patterson stood in front of them, shook their hands and exited the office.
Swan consulted with Morris, asking him what he made of this first witness.
Morris placed his notebook on the desk. ‘I think we can eliminate him from our suspect list. He was honest enough when answering some of your more difficult questions, and he was quite remorseful about Powell.’
Swan agreed. ‘Okay, let’s have the next one in.’
A few minutes later, French fuel engineer, Jean Lempiere entered, invited to sit down. Lempiere, a war veteran, found Swan to be pleasant but detailed, and the questions asked, needed him to think hard about the time of the test, giving Swan, a step by step account of his part in the test. When asked how he got on with Kevin Powell, he praised his late site supervisor, complimenting him, on how thorough he was, in always ensuring his staff were always safe.
Swan then enquired into the Frenchman’s past. Lempiere had worked under occupation for the Germans, at the Dewoitine aircraft factory at Toulouse, in 1944, and later, was sent to work at the secret V-2 complex at Le Coupole, near St Omer, and following liberation, having worked on the propulsion of the Nazi terror rocket, had come over to Ansty, to work on HTP-fuelled engine development.