The Bat(101)

‘What?’

‘She left the Albury at exactly quarter past eight. It shouldn’t take more than ten minutes to walk from there to King’s Cross. That was twenty-five minutes ago.’

‘I thought you said she would be under surveillance the whole time!’

‘From the meeting place, yes. Why would anyone—?’

‘What about the mike? She was wired up when she left, wasn’t she?’

‘They lost contact. They had it and then there was nothing. Not a peep.’

‘Have we got a map? Which route did she take?’ He spoke softly and quickly. Lebie took the street atlas from his bag and gave it to Harry, who found the page showing Paddington and King’s Cross.

‘Which way would she have gone?’ Lebie asked on the radio.

‘The simplest. Down Victoria Street.’

‘Here it is,’ Harry said. ‘Round the corner of Oxford Street and down Victoria Street, past St Vincent’s Hospital, across Green Park on the left, to the crossroads, up to where Darlinghurst Road starts and two hundred metres along to where Hungry Jack’s is. Couldn’t be any bloody simpler!’

Watkins took the radio mike. ‘Smith, send two cars up Victoria Street to find the girl. Tell the people at the Albury to lend a hand. One car stays outside Hungry Jack’s in case she appears. Be quick and don’t make any fuss. Report back as soon as you know anything.’ He threw the mike down. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the hell is going on? Has she been run over? Robbed? Raped? Shit, shit, shit!’

Lebie and Harry exchanged glances.

‘Could White possibly have driven up Victoria Street, spotted her and picked her up there?’ Lebie suggested. ‘He has seen her before after all, at the Albury, and may have recognised her.’

‘The radio transmitter,’ Harry said. ‘It must still be working!’

‘Bravo, bravo! Watkins here. Are you getting any signals from her transmitter? . . . Yes? . . . Direction of the Albury? Then she isn’t far away. Quick, quick, quick! Great! Out!’

The three men sat in silence. Lebie shot Harry a glance.

‘Ask if they’ve seen White’s car,’ Harry said.

‘Bravo, come in. Lebie here. What about the black Holden? Has anyone seen it yet?’

‘Negative.’

Watkins jumped up and began to pace the floor while swearing under his breath. Harry had been crouched down ever since he came into the sitting room and only noticed now that his thigh muscles were quivering.

The radio crackled.

‘Charlie, this is Bravo. Come in.’

Lebie pressed the loudspeaker button. ‘Charlie here, Bravo. Speak.’

‘Stolz here. We’ve found the bag with the transmitter and microphone in Green Park. The girl’s vanished into thin air.’

‘In the bag?’ Harry said. ‘Wasn’t it supposed to have been taped to her body?’

Watkins squirmed. ‘Probably I forgot to say, but we discussed what would happen if he got into a clinch with her . . . er, held her and, well, you know. Made a move. Miss Enquist agreed it would be safer to keep the equipment in the bag.’

Harry already had his jacket on.

‘Where are you going?’ Lebie asked.

‘He was waiting for her,’ Harry said. ‘Maybe he followed her from the Albury. She didn’t even have a chance to scream. My guess is he used a cloth with diethyl ether. Same as Otto Rechtnagel got.’

‘In the street?’ Lebie said with a sceptical tone.

‘Nope. In the park. I’m on my way now. Somebody I know there.’

Joseph kept blinking. He was incredibly drunk.

‘I think they stood there smooching, Harry.’

‘You’ve said that four times now, Joseph. What did he look like? Where were they going? Did he have a car?’

‘Mikke and I, we commented, when he dragged her past, that she was even drunker than we were. I think Mikke envied her that. Hee hee. Say hello to Mikke. He’s from Finland.’

Mikke was lying on the other bench and was well gone.

‘Look at me, Joseph. Look at me! I have to find her. Do you understand? The guy’s probably a murderer.’

‘I’m trying, Harry. I’m really trying. Shit, I wish I could help you.’

Joseph squeezed his eyes shut and groaned as he banged his forehead with his fist.

‘The light’s so bloody bad in this park I didn’t see much. I think he was quite big.’

‘Fat? Tall? Blond? Dark? Lame? Glasses? Beard? Hat?’

Joseph rolled his eyes in answer. ‘D’ya have a fig, mate. Makes me think better, you know.’

But all the cigarettes in the world could not blow away the alcoholic mist wreathing Joseph’s brain. Harry gave him the rest of the packet and told him to ask Mikke what he remembered when he came round. Not that he reckoned there would be much.