and Elene, yes; but after Wolff had picked up his spare radio. It would be tough on the boy, savagely tough, but the worst of it-the kidnapping-was already in the past and irreversible, and living under Nazi rule, with his father in a concentration camp, would also be savagely tough. Having made the decision, and hardened his heart, Vandam needed to be certain that Wolff really was on that train. And in figuring out how to check, he had thought of a way to make things a little easier for Billy and Elene at the same time. When he reached the next town he reckoned he was at least fifteen minutes ahead of the train. It was the same kind of place as the last town: same animal , same dusty streets, same slow-moving people, same handful of brick buildings. The police station was in a central square, opposite the railway station, flanked by a large mosque and a small church. Vandarn pulled up outside and gave a series of peremptory blasts on the horn of his bike. Two Arab policemen came out of the building: a grayhaired man in a white uniform with a pistol at his belt, and a boy of eighteen or twenty years who was unarmed. The older man was buttoning his shirt. Vandam. got off the bike and bawled: “Attention!” Both men stood straight and saluted. Vandam returned the salute, then shook the older man’s hand. “I’m chasing a dangerous criminal, and I need your help,” he said dramatically. The man’s eyes glittered. “Let’s go inside.” Vandam led the way. He felt he needed to keep the initiative firmly in his own hands. He was by no means sure of his own status here, and if the policemen were to choose to be uncooperative there would be little he could do about it. He entered the building. Through a doorway he saw a table with a telephone. He went into that room, and the policemen followed him. Vandam said to the older man: “Call British headquarters in Cairo.” He gave him the number, and the man picked up the phone. Vandarn turned to the younger policeman. “Did you see the motorcycle?” “Yes, yes.” He nodded violently. “Could you ride itT’ The boy was thrilled by the idea. “I ride it very well.” THE KEY TO REBECCA 315
“Go out and try it.” Ile boy looked doubtfully at his superior, who was shouting into the telephone. “Go on,” Vandam said. Ile boy went out. The older man held the phone out to Vandam. “This is GHQ.” Vandam spoke into the phone. “Connect me with Captain Jakes, fast.” He waited. Jakes’ voice came on the line after a minute or two. “Hello, yes?” ‘This is Vandam. I’m in the south, following a bunch.” “nere’s a rigbt panic on here since the brass heard what happened last night–the brigadier’s having kittens and Bogge is running around like a fart in a colander-where in buggeration are you. sirT’ “Never mind where exactly, I won’t be here much longer and I have to work alone at the moment. In order to assure the maximal support of the indigenous constabulary-” He spoke like this so that the policeman would not be able to understand-“I want you to do your Dutch un6le act. ReadyT’ “Yes, sir.” Vandam gave the phone to the gray-haired policeman and stood back He could guess what Jakes was saying. The policeman unconsciously stood straighter and squared his shoulders as Jakes instructed him, in no uncertain terms, to do everything Vandam wanted and do it fast. “Yes, sir!” the policeman said, several times, Finally he said: “Please be as- sured, sir and gentleman, that we will do all in our power–~’ He stopped abruptly. Vandam guessed that Jakes had hung up. The policeman glanced at Vandam. then said “Good-bye” to the empty wire. Vandam went to the window and looked out. The young policeman was driving around and around the square on the motorcycle. booting the horn and overrevving the engine. A small crowd had gathered to watch him, and a bunch of children were running behind the bike. The boy was grinning from ear to ear. He’ll do, Vandam thought. “Listen,” be said. “I’m going to get on the Assyut train when it stops here in a few minutes. I’ll get off at the next 316 Ken Follett