He told her what he had seen while he swilled down more beer. Then she told him her day while he wolfed down the food.
‘It’s a very friendly little town. The lady in the café would talk the hind legs off a donkey. I had to have three cups of coffee and a Coca-Cola I didn’t want while she yakked—
‘I’d have given my eye-teeth for a Coca-Cola.’
‘“Are you an American?” Yes, by golly-gosh, I am, going up to Etosha. Alone? No, I’m killing time whilst my husband talks boring business all day. What business is your husband in? Life insurance and pension schemes, got clients all over southern Africa – dead boring. Me, I’m keen on wildlife and photography, I believe there’s a fabulous old German castle round here, brought stone by stone from Germany? That’s Schloss Namib, she said, belongs to Herr Strauss, but it’s built of local stone. I said, I’ve heard of him, is it true that he’s an old eccentric who never leaves the place? No, he’s a prominent man in these parts, he comes to church every Sunday—’
‘Church?’
‘And he drops into the café for an apfelstrudel with his wife after they’ve finished their business in town.’
‘What days?’
‘She didn’t say, and I could hardly ask her outright. So I said, is he a farmer? She said, a cheque-book farmer, he breeds magnificent horses and prize cattle, he always wins prizes at the agricultural shows.’
‘I saw the stables.’
‘I’ve got some ideas on that, but let me finish. At this juncture I saw the big blonde girl we saw on the video, walking down the street. I made my escape from the café. The blonde was walking towards the service station. There was a grey Mercedes getting petrol, and a man signing a chit. There was somebody in the back seat. I hurried to our Landrover, they drove out of the garage, I followed them. They stopped at Barclays Bank, and out of the back climbed an elderly lady. But sprightly. The guy and the old lady went into the bank, the blonde crossed the road to the post office.’
‘It fits,’ McQuade said. ‘The four men arrive in Muller’s aeroplane – which he sent to collect them – to talk Nazi business, so he sends his wife and flunkies to town to get them out of the way.’
‘They may have been horse-buyers.’
‘Then why the Nazi salute at the airstrip? Anyway, what happened next?’
‘Nazi horse-buyers, perhaps? Anyway, I followed the blonde. She was clearing a postbox as I walked in. There’s a public telephone there. I went to a phone, pretended to look for coins, then pulled out a two-rand note and said to her, “Can you change this for coins?” “Certainly,” she said. She was very nice.’
‘There are many nice Germans.’
‘But not many of them work for Heinrich Muller. Anyway, I hoped to engage her in conversation to try to find out when her boss came to town, but it was no go. She went off to join a queue at the counters. I pretended to dial a number. I had a bullshit conversation with nobody, then I joined the queue behind the blonde. To buy stamps for five non-existent postcards. I got talking to her again. “Thanks for the coins.” “Pleasure.” “Wow it’s hot, do you live round here?” She’s really a good-looker. “Yes, I live on a ranch.” “Really, where?” “Schloss Namib.” “Is that the grand castle I’ve heard about?” She says, “It’s more like a fortress.” “Not for damsels in distress?” said I. “Aha-ha – ha!”’
McQuade grinned. ‘Tell it straight.’
‘I am. “No” she says, “but it’s lonely.” But she likes the horse-riding and the bush, et cetera, et cetera. “And your husband?” I said. “No,” she said, “I’m not married, I’m the house-keeper.” At that stage her turn came at the counter. The post-mistress said “Hullo, Fräulein Beyers.” When she turned back I said, “Can you tell me where I can buy avocado pears?” ’
‘ “Avocado pears?” ’
‘If I invited her for coffee she may say, “Thanks, but sorry.” But for avocado pears she’s got to stop and think. She says, “I’ll show you the grocery store.” So I bought my stamps and we left together. I said, “Do you get to town often in your job?” She said, “Once a week the old lady and I come to do some shopping.” ’ Sarah snapped her fingers: ‘Then she said, “That day we meet girlfriends for lunch at the hotel.” And it was obvious that Muller does not come to town that day because it’s girlie-lunch-day! So that’s the day to snatch him, when the womenfolk are out of the way!’
‘Brilliant!’ McQuade said. ‘And what day is that?’
‘Wait. I couldn’t ask her – we’d reached the store. And sure enough, there were avocados.’ She pointed. ‘Hope you eat them. I hung about politely, while she bought a few things, then as we left I said, “How about a coffee?” But she had to join the old lady. So all I could say was “Well, might bump into you on our way back from Etosha, we’ll probably be stopping here.” I was hoping she’d say “Well, do come to lunch with the girls.” But she just said “Good, have a nice trip, auf Wiedersehen.” And off she went. Leaving me looking a bit lost in Main Street, Outjo, clutching my two avocados and five postage stamps.’
He smiled. ‘Where did she go?’
‘It was now lunchtime. She went into the hotel. The Mercedes was parked there. I got its number, of course. But I couldn’t go into the hotel myself because the barman would remember our asking after the Strauss family and may try to introduce me. That would have looked suspicious to the girl – Heidi’s her name, by the way. And I was scared to go back to my fountain of information in the café, in case Heidi took the old lady there for a nice apfelstrudel. I’d run out of places to loiter, so I made myself scarce. Thought you might be back soon, so I came back here. But, at six o’clock I telephoned the manager of the hotel in Outjo from here. Didn’t say who I was but said that I was hoping to see Heidi Beyers at lunch at his hotel next week, but I’d forgotten what day it was.’
‘Very good.’
‘And the manager said … “Saturday, madam”!’ She cocked her eyebrows at him. ‘It’s a start,’ she said.
‘Sheer genius,’ McQuade said.
He paced across the rondavel. ‘There’re four basic options.’
Sarah sat with a glass of wine, all attention.
‘One,’ he said, ‘go in there with a bunch of mercenaries and snatch him in a military-style operation.’ He shook his head. ‘This is the option I like least, because it will involve knocking out the guards, blasting our way in, finding Muller, knocking him out, getting him out into the escape vehicle. There’re plenty of snags with that plan.’
‘I’ll say,’ she murmured.
‘You can’t do that without expecting shots to be fired, and I don’t want murder on my conscience. So – Option two, and without yet having thought it through properly, this is the option I like best. Namely, get into the schloss dressed as policemen.’ He added: ‘My Landrover looks like a police vehicle.’
She said to her fingernails: ‘And how do you get him out of the schloss?’
‘I had considerable time to give this some thought today, as I lay up in the hilltops dying of thirst. I either have to lure him out, with some pretext – like coming back to the police station to identify someone. Or … I have to take a bold course, and arrest him.’
‘Arrest him?’ She looked up. ‘But on what charge?’
‘We’ll have to think. But how about something that would really upset him? Embarrass him. Make him protest his innocence. Like indecent exposure.’
‘Indecent exposure?’
‘Imagine. If the cops knocked on my door and said they’d received a complaint from … some waitress, that I’d unzipped my fly and flashed man’s best friend at her, I’d be horrified. Outraged. What absolute nonsense! What waitress? Show her to me – this is all some ghastly mistake! Certainly I’ll come with you to the police station to prove this is nonsense – the girl’s talking about somebody else!’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Wouldn’t I?’
Sarah stared at him thoughtfully. ‘He’d say, “I want to telephone my lawyer.” ’
‘Would he? Particularly if the policeman says, “I believe, sir, that this must be a terrible case of mistaken identity, so just come to the station to straighten it out, please.” Anyway, his telephone line would be cut. By us. “Never mind, sir, you can call your lawyer from the police station.” ’ He raised his eyebrows again. ‘And even if he does phone his lawyer, he’s still got to come out to the police station with us.’
She nodded slowly. ‘Worth thinking about.’
McQuade turned and paced. ‘Option Three, we snatch him in town, or on the way into town. But there’re big problems. In town there’re likely to be witnesses, and there’s likely to be a fight. If we’re caught, the cops are right there.’
She nodded. ‘Not in town. On the road.’
‘The problem there is that he’s likely to be in the car with his bodyguard and wife – and Heidi too. Not only are they witnesses, there could be a nasty fight and the women could get hurt. Furthermore they’d give chase afterwards. Okay, we could immobilize his car, but it won’t be long before another car comes along, so within a very short time the cops would be throwing up roadblocks all over the country. They’d know what direction we’d taken.’
‘Not if they’re unconscious.’ She got up and went to her handbag. She took out a perfume bottle. ‘Standard Mossad issue. Anaesthetic. Same stuff doctors use to put a patient out for an operation. All we have to buy is the syringe, from any chemist.’
McQuade looked at it. Its label claimed it was eau de cologne. ‘Bloody marvellous.’
‘Trouble is it only gives us a short start.’
‘Any more tricks like that in your bag?’
‘Another one of those, and knock-out pills you put in people’s drinks.’ She produced a plastic phial which proclaimed the contents to be Saccharin, artificial sweetener. ‘Just the usual stuff.’
‘Excellent stuff.’
‘Option Four?’ she said.
McQuade took a gulp of wine. ‘We somehow lure him to meet us somewhere, where we can snatch him safely. This would probably be the ideal solution if we had plenty of time. We’d need time to find out what would lure him out to bur meeting place. A sick relative, maybe? An important business meeting? Something to do with horses? Or politics?’ He shook his head. ‘But we don’t know enough about him. It could take months. So, on the face of it, it’s the second option. Go in as a policeman. Once we’ve got him under arrest, we’ve got to get him across the country to Walvis Bay. Onto the ship.’ He waved his hand. ‘We must assume that within a couple of hours somebody at the schloss will smell a rat when he fails to return, and the alarm will be raised. So, they’ll be looking for our Landrover. We’ll change the number plates, and we can quickly spray-paint it another colour after the snatch. Or transfer to another vehicle.’ He held up a finger. ‘A truck. With a crate on the back – and in that crate is our friend, Herr Muller. Sedated.’
She looked at him. ‘Carry on.’
‘Of course, we time our snatch of Muller to coincide with the Bonanza being in port. We winch the crate on board and put to sea. Throw a bucket of water over Muller, and get the story out of him.’ He spread his hands and raised his eyebrows.
‘We’re forgetting one thing,’ she said. ‘If that white Toyota you saw is the same vehicle that chased us in the desert, the guys in it are likely to recognize you when you show up dressed as a policeman.’
‘So, I’ll have to have a disguise. The Landrover’s had a new paint-job. We’ll work out those details. And I’ll have to go back to Muller’s place and have another look at it from the other side before we finally decide.’ He turned and paced, thinking out loud: ‘But we’ve got a lot of things to get. Like a large wooden crate. A truck. Unless we spray-paint the Landrover another colour after we’ve snatched him. In which case we need a safe place off the road to do the job.’
‘A coffin,’ Sarah said pensively, ‘not a crate. Nobody likes to open a coffin. And ideally you need something that looks like a hearse. Plus the necessary papers – all forged.’
McQuade turned to her. ‘That’s a good idea! We can buy a cheap coffin at any native store.’
‘A good coffin, you need. And the phoney number plates? A wrecker’s yard – but where?’
‘And who do we get as muscle? Mr Patterson and his boys from the Gold Reef Hotel will be expensive. Or do I radio-telephone the Bonanza now and tell Tucker and the Kid to get up here?’
‘For God’s sake don’t go in for hired guns like a bull at a gate! You don’t know anything about them. How good they are, whether they can keep their mouths shut. Before you go for hired guns you have your plan down to the last detail and then you hand-pick them!’ She shook her head. ‘But listen, darling Jim …’
Sarah paused and looked at him earnestly. ‘I know I’ve promised not to say this again, but I must. Jim, you’ve found Heinrich Muller, where all others have failed – even Mossad with all their know-how and manpower! You really are to be congratulated! You’re going to be a world hero. You could sell your story for a fortune.’ She looked at him earnestly. ‘So now, for the last time, let me urge you to hand the rest of the job over to Mossad? With all their money and expertise.’ He started to speak but she hurried on: ‘Hear me out! Mossad will fly a whole team of experts out here, study the scene, make a hundred per cent plan to snatch Muller, and they’ll do it.’ She breathed. ‘You and me? We stand only a fifty per cent chance. That also means a fifty per cent chance of ending up in jail or getting ourselves killed …’
McQuade said quietly, ‘And once Mossad has snatched him, what do they do with him?’
‘You bargain with Mossad now about that!’ she cried. ‘From a position of strength. You’ve found the man, only you know who and where he is—’
‘And once Mossad snatches him, he disappears on an El Al jet for Jerusalem.’ McQuade shook his head. ‘No bargain I make with the State of Israel is worth the breath – and they certainly won’t put it in writing! Heinrich Muller is so important they wouldn’t care how many solemn bargains they broke. Once they’ve snatched him, would they take him to my trawler and let me twist his arm to find out where the loot is? Would they hell!’ He snorted. ‘Anyway, once Muller opens his mouth to them, that submarine disappears from my grasp in a morass of legal hassle.’ He shook his head again. ‘Thanks for offering, but I’ve come this far on my own.’
She gave a deep sigh.
‘Okay. I’ve tried. Now what?’
McQuade looked at his watch. ‘I’m going to radio-telephone the Bonanza to tell the boys to get back to port and get up here.’ He looked at the date dial. ‘Monday. That gives us four clear days to prepare before next Saturday, when Heidi goes for this lunch.’
Sarah cried, ‘For God’s sake – you’re not going to attempt this job in four days! You need more time to plan! Saturday after next could be the earliest!’
He said tersely, ‘The Bonanza’s due back any time now. We’re here now. And Muller’s here now. In ten days time he may be anywhere. Or dead of old age.’