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‘How many more of the passports issued in the last hundred days remain to be checked?’ he asked.
‘About three hundred to go,’ said the voice on the phone.
‘Leave the others to continue checking the remainder, just in case there is another phoney among the bunch,’ instructed Thomas. ‘Hand over the team leadership to the other fellow. I want you to check out that address to which the passport was sent. Report back to me by phone the moment you have found it. If it’s an occupied premises, interview the householder. Bring me back the full details on the phoney Duggan, and the file copy of the photograph he submitted with the application form. I want to have a look at this lad Calthrop in his new disguise.’
It was just before eleven that the senior inspector phoned back in. The address in question was a small tobacconist and newsagent shop in Paddington, the kind that had a window full of cards advertising the addresses of prostitutes. The owner, living above the shop, had been roused and had agreed he often took in mail for customers who had no fixed address. He made a charge for his services. He could not remember a regular customer named Duggan, but it could have been that Duggan only called twice, once to arrange for his mail to be received there, the second time to pick up the one envelope that he was waiting for. The inspector had showed the newsagent a photograph of Calthrop, but the man could not recognise him. He also showed him the photograph of Duggan on the application form, and the man said he thought he remembered the second man, but could not be sure. He felt the man might have worn dark glasses. Many of those who came into his shop to buy the erotic pin-up magazines displayed behind the counter wore dark glasses.
‘Bring him in,’ ordered Thomas, ‘and get back here yourself.’ Then he picked up the phone and asked for Paris.
A second time, the call came halfway through the evening conference. Commissaire Lebel had explained that beyond a doubt Calthrop was not inside France under his own name, unless he had smuggled himself into the country in a fishing boat or across one of the land borders at an isolated spot. He personally did not think a professional would do that, because at any subsequent spot check by the police he could be caught for not having his papers in order, that is, having no entry stamp on his passport.
Nor had any Charles Calthrop checked into any French hotel in his own name.
These facts were corroborated by the head of the Central Records office, the head of the DST and the Prefect of Police of Paris, so they were not disputed.
The two alternatives, argued Lebel, were that the man had not made any provision for obtaining a false passport, and had thought he was unsuspected. In that case, the police raid on his flat in London must have caught him short. He explained that he did not believe this, as Superintendent Thomas’s men had found gaps in the wardrobe and half-empty clothes drawers, and absence of washing accoutrements and shaving tackle, indicating that the man had left his London flat for a planned absence elsewhere. Thi
s was borne out by a neighbour, who reported Calthrop as having said he was going touring by car in Scotland. Neither the British nor the French police had any reason to believe this was true.
The second alternative was that Calthrop had acquired a false passport, and this was what the British police were presently searching for. In that event, he might either still not be in France, but at some other place completing his preparations, or he might already have entered France unsuspected.
It was at this point that several of the conference members exploded.
‘You mean he might be here, in France, even in the centre of Paris?’ expostulated Alexandre Sanguinetti.
‘The point is,’ explained Lebel, ‘that he has got his timetable, and only he knows it. We have been investigating for seventy-two hours. We have no way of knowing at which point in the man’s timetable we have intervened. The one thing we can be sure of is, that apart from knowing we are aware of the existence of a plot to assassinate the President, the killer cannot know what progress we have made. Therefore we stand a reasonable chance of apprehending an unsuspecting man, as soon as we have him identified under his new name, and located under that name.’
But the meeting refused to be mollified. The thought that the killer might even then be within a mile of them, and that in that man’s timetable the attempt on the life of the President might be for tomorrow, caused each of them acute anxiety.
‘It could be, of course,’ mused Colonel Rolland, ‘that having learned from Rodin, through the unknown agent Valmy, that the plan was exposed in principle, that Calthrop then left his flat to dispose of the evidence of his preparations. His gun and ammunition, for example, could even now be tipped into a lake in Scotland, so that he can present himself to his own police on his return as clean as a whistle. In that event it would be very difficult to bring charges.’
The meeting thought over Rolland’s suggestion, with increasing signs of agreement.
‘Then tell us, Colonel,’ said the Minister, ‘if you had been hired for this job, and had learned that the plot was exposed, even if your own identity were still a secret, is that what you would do?’
‘Certainly, Monsieur le Ministre,’ replied Rolland. ‘If I were an experienced assassin I would realise that I must be on some file somewhere, and with the plot exposed it could only be a matter of time before I received a visit from the police and a search of my premises. So I would want to get rid of the evidence, and what better place than an isolated Scottish lake.’
The round of smiles that greeted him from the table indicated how much those assembled approved of his speculation.
‘However, that does not mean that we should just let him go. I still think we should … take care of this Monsieur Calthrop.’
The smiles vanished. There was silence for several seconds.
‘I do not follow you, mon colonel,’ said General Guibaud.
‘Simply this,’ explained Rolland. ‘Our orders were to locate and destroy this man. He may have dismantled his plot for the moment. But he may not have destroyed his equipment, but merely hidden it, in order to pass the scrutiny of the British police. After that, he could simply take up again where he left off, but with a new set of preparations even more difficult to penetrate.’
‘But surely, when the British police locate him, if he is still in Britain, they will detain him?’ someone asked.
‘Not necessarily. Indeed I doubt it. They will probably have no proof, only suspicions. And our friends the English are notoriously sensitive about what they are pleased to call “civil liberties”. I suspect they may find him, interview him, and then let him go for lack of evidence.’
‘Of course the Colonel is right,’ interjected Saint-Clair. ‘The British police have stumbled on this man by a fluke. They are incredibly foolish about things like leaving a dangerous man at liberty. Colonel Rolland’s section should be authorised to render this man Calthrop harmless once and for all.’
The Minister noticed that Commissaire Lebel had remained silent and unsmiling throughout the interchange.
‘Well, Commissaire, and what do you think? Do you agree with Colonel Rolland that Calthrop is even now dismantling and hiding, or destroying, his preparations and equipment?’
Lebel glanced up at the two rows of expectant faces on each side of him.
