Swan moved over to them. ‘Where will you take him?’ he asked.
‘St Mary’s,’ the medic replied. Swan looked at his watch. The event had all happened in just ten minutes.
In that same amount of time, oblivious to the scene, he had left behind, Squadron Leader Lecky-Thompson flew his Harrier at 10.000 feet above Boscombe Down in Wiltshire about to rendezvous with his first of many Victor tanker aircraft, he would use on his journey across the Atlantic, and land alongside the Hudson River in New York.
The ambulance moved out of the coal yard with the siren blaring. Swan stood still, shocked by what had just occurred. A cavalcade of police cars and a police van had arrived and parked next to the RAF Land Rover.
Swan and Gable walked over to a plain clothes detective and introduced themselves; they both showed their credentials. ‘Alex Swan and Arthur Gable of SID. In the back of the Land Rover is the man who shot Air Commodore Sir Alistair Higgins. I suspect, he also killed, Karl Ruger and Otto Kappelman. The gun taken from him, certainly matches the type of weapon used in Ruger’s murder. You also need to arrest, Ernst Hoffenberg. He is an Air Attaché from the West German Embassy. I suspect that he may be behind this, He will no doubt try to claim diplomatic immunity, in which case you will need to contact the Foreign Office.’
The plain clothes policeman introduced himself. ‘Detective Superintendent, Martin Round,’ he announced. ‘Excuse me, sir, do you know why this happened?
Swan took Round’s arm, and moved him over out of earshot of the RAF guards and other policemen. ‘It is my belief, Detective Superintendent, that I have exposed a neo-Nazi faction, who want to cause havoc to our rocket technology. They know I am on to them, so they have tried to assassinate me here today. Air Commodore Higgins saw the man with a gun, and acted accordingly.’
Round, nodded. ‘How is the Air Commodore?’
Swan gave the detective a hard stare. ‘He took a bullet meant for me in the guts, Mr Round. How the hell do you think he is right now?’
Round suddenly appeared sheepish. ‘Very well, sir. We’ll take the man back to Paddington Green for questioning. What are you and your colleague going to do now, Mr Swan?’
Swan gestured to Howard Barnett who stood consoling his tearful wife. ‘These are my friends. I’ll see them to their hotel, then I will alert the Security Service, to let them know you may possibly have the murderer of Karl Ruger in custody. I might even see you later, back at Paddington Green.’
Round nodded again. ‘Okay Mr Swan. This all sounds a bit too spooky for me, if you get my drift. So, I’ll just do what I have to do, and leave you to all the other stuff. If that’s alright with you?’
Swan acknowledged the detective, and Gable handed the pistol to another plain clothes officer. Howard Barnett looked at Swan. ‘What’s happening now, Alex?’
They’re taking our assassin to the police station for questioning.’ He checked Heidi Barnett. ‘How are you, Heidi?’
‘I’m fine, thank you, Alex. Poor Sir Alistair. Will he be okay?’
Swan smiled. ‘Don’t worry Heidi. He’s taken much more than that, when he flew in the war. They managed to stop the bleeding, and that is usually a good sign. I better inform his wife, and his Number Two, at the Ministry.’
Howard Barnett sighed. ‘Why would this man want to try and kill, Sir Alistair, Alex?’
‘He didn’t mean to shoot old Hammer, he wanted to kill me. You see, I know all about the organisation that this killer is working for, and very soon, I hope to meet with the man behind it all.’
Barnett took in what was said, knowing from experience, what circles, his two friends moved in. ‘I’m sure we can all do with a bloody drink, now,’ he suggested.
Swan and Gable led their friends away from the scene, as the police transferred the now handcuffed, Trost, from the Land Rover to the back of the black police van.
As Swan walked out of the yard with his friends, he looked back and viewed the engineers dismantling the platform, then looked over at the old buildings on the opposite side of the road, spied the top part of the Post Office Tower as it peered over them, its futuristic structure of receivers and relay aerials, looking out of place, among the Victorian blocks. The scene reminded him of a Martian tripod fighting machine, in HG Wells’ classic science fiction tale. ‘What a sad end to another marvellous achievement in aviation,’ he remarked, paraphrasing, what Higgins had mentioned about the pioneering aviator, John Alcock.
Chapter 29
At St Mary’s Hospital, Paddington, the ambulance crew rushed Higgins through on the stretcher bed, and assisted by medical staff, wheeled him directly to Casualty. ‘Abdominal gunshot wound,’ announced the medic, as they walked alongside the trolley bed.
Higgins was taken into the casualty room and placed in a cubicle, curtains were drawn and the staff went to work in accessing the wound.
Swan and Gable had seen Howard and Heidi Barnett back to their hotel, promising to meet up later in the evening, for dinner.
The two SID men raced back to Wellesley Mews and in minutes, Swan was on the telephone to John Stratton, explaining the incident.
In his office at Leconfield House, an awestruck Stratton listened, as Swan gave his account. ‘How is Sir Alistair?’ Stratton asked, Swan replying that he is off to the hospital to find out. Stratton brought Swan up to date on progress made regarding Gunther Fleischer.
‘I have spoken with Bruno Weitz, my opposite in the BND. Seems that our man Fleischer, is quite a big cheese in the circles of West German industry. He’s highly respected by the Bundestag. Are you sure he could be behind this, Onyx Cross outfit?’
Swan confirmed. ‘Oh yes, John, I’m sure. I had a source, name him, before they jumped to their death, off a rocket gantry.’
Stratton winced. ‘Yes, of course. Well, in that case you better listen carefully to this. Bruno has dictated some extracts from his file to me, which I had transcribed. You see, Bruno likes to have a finger on the pulse of powerful West German figures, and it so happens that Fleischer is on his list. So here goes…,’
Stratton cleared his throat then began. ‘Gunther Fleischer was born in Bavaria in 1924. His father Otto Fleischer, was the proprietor of Fleischer & Koch, and a member of the civilian version of the Waffen SS. He owned a firm for manufacturing construction vehicles, and on his death, his son became the director. At the age of twenty-three, Gunther Fleischer joined the Nazi Party, and after graduating with an engineering degree at the Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich, was recruited for the Reichstechnischeburo, Hitler’s technology think tank. At the end of the war, he managed to escape to Sweden, as his mother, who was native Swedish, had been living there since the invasion of Poland in 1939. The family business obviously played a major part in the war, but because of its potential in the building of the new West Germany, seemed to have been exempt from the Potsdam Agreement, conceived by the Allies to reduce German industry and manufacture. Fleischer has never married; however, he does have a long-term lady friend, a Fraulein Katrina Holz, who is twelve years younger than him. They have been together since his return from Sweden in 1958, when he took over the family firm.’
Swan was intrigued. ‘Most interesting, John, especially the bit about Fleischer’s time in Berlin. So, did you tell Bruno, why we are looking into Fleischer?’
‘Not exactly. I just said, that his name came up in the Ruger and Kappelman investigation, and I was just making a routine enquiry.’
Swan nodded appreciatively. ‘That’s good. It should give us a bit more time, as to where we go next. Perhaps, when we provide Bruno with a bit more information, he could possibly arrange a phone tap,’ Swan suggested.