The Day After Tomorrow_ A Novel - Allan Folsom [222]
Suddenly, the thought came to get Joanna Marsh on the telephone and try to pump her for as much as he could before she either hung up or someone did it for her. It was worth a try. At this point anything was, and he was about to ask Remmer to get the phone number of the house on Hauptstrasse when line two on the pair of secured room phones rang. Remmer glanced at McVey and picked up.
“Cadoux. Patched through from Noble’s office in London,” he said.
Motioning Noble to the extension, McVey took the phone from Remmer, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. “Get a trace on it.” Remmer nodded and went into the bedroom, where he punched up the other line.
“Cadoux, this is McVey. Noble is on the extension, Where are you?”
“A public phone inside a small grocery in the north part of the city.” Cadoux wasn’t comfortable with English and spoke haltingly. He sounded tired and frightened and was talking not to be overheard, just above a whisper. “Klass and Halder are the moles inside Interpol. They arranged for the murders of Albert Merriman and Lebrun and that of his brother in Lyon.”
“Cadoux, who are they working for?” McVey was pressing him right from the beginning to reveal which side he was on.
“I— I can’t tell you.”
“What the hell does that mean? Do you know or don’t you?”
“McVey, please understand what I’m doing—this is very difficult for me—”
“All right. Take it easy. . . .”
“They—Klass and Halder—forced me to participate in the killing of Lebrun because of an old connection to my family. They brought me to Berlin because they know you are here. They wanted to use me to set you up. I cooperated with them once but it’s no good and I told them so . . . I won’t do it again. . . .”
“Cadoux.” McVey was suddenly sympathetic. “Do they know where you are?”
“Perhaps, but I think not. At least for the moment. They have informants everywhere. It’s how they knew where to find Lebrun in London. Listen to me, please.” Cadoux’s voice became more urgent. “I know you have a meeting scheduled with Erwin Scholl before the reception at Charlottenburg Palace tonight. I must see you before you confront him. I have information you need. It has to do with a mart named Lybarger and his connection to the headless bodies.”
McVey and Noble exchanged surprised glances.
“Cadoux, tell me what it is—”
“It’s unsafe for me to remain here longer”
“Cadoux, this is Noble. Was a Doctor Salettl involved in removing the heads?”
“I’m staying at the Hotel Borggreve. Number 17 Borggrevestrasse. Room 412, top floor in the back. I have to hang up now. I’ll expect you.”
Noble let the phone settle back into the cradle and looked to McVey. “Do we have a sudden light at the end of the tunnel or is it an oncoming train.”
“No idea,” McVey said. “At least part of what he’s told us is the truth.”
Remmer came in from the bedroom. “His call came from a food shop near Schonholz subway station. Inspectors are on the way.”
McVey put his hands on his hips and looked off. “Okay, he was telling the truth about that, too.”
“You’re worried it’s a setup,” Remmer said.
“Yeah, I’m worried it’s a setup. But that’s balanced against another worry. The same one I’ve had all along. That other than Osborn’s testimony, our case against Scholl doesn’t exist.”
“What you’re saying is Cadoux might be able to fill in a lot of blanks,” Noble said quietly. “And trouble or not, you think we ought to meet him.”
McVey waited a long moment. “I don’t think we have any choice.”
112
* * *
4:57 P.M.
THE THIN red glow of a setting sun sat on the horizon as a silver Audi sedan turned out of traffic on Hauptstrasse and pulled up to the front gate of the house at number 72. The driver rolled down his window as a security guard came out of the stone guardhouse, and flashed a BKA I.D.
“My name is Schneider. I have a message for Herr Scholl,” he said in German. Immediately, two other security guards, one with a German shepherd on a leash, appeared out