The Janus Man by Colin Forbes Read Free Book Online Page B

and walked into a blast of Louis Armstrong trumpeting On the Sunny Side of the Street. Sleazy nightspot, Newman assumed, and then found he was wrong. He stared in amazement.
    A powerful smell of oil and resin assailed his nostrils. He appeared to have entered a ship's chandler's office. Tackle of all types for ships was stacked round the walls of the cellar-like room. The place was lit dimly by oil-lamps and coils of rope like snakes in the gloom hung from the cracked ceiling.
    The music, Louis trumpeting endlessly on, came from various hi-fi speakers slung at crooked angles from the walls. Ziggy Palewska sat on a three-legged stool behind a bare wooden table, the surface smeared with a variety of dirt. He looked up and his face froze when he saw Tweed.
    `Ian Fergusson is dead,' Tweed said, drawing up a ramshackle chair to face the Pole across the table. 'He came here, talked with you, left — and was murdered. I'm not pleased, Ziggy, so don't, please, waste my time...'
    `I don't know any Ian Fergusson.' He looked at Newman. 'I have not seen this man before, Mr Tweed.'
    Ziggy Palewska was short in stature. He made up for his lack of height by his width. Both facially and bodily he reminded Newman of a monkey. Impossible to guess his age. His brown hair was thinning over his rounded skull. His skin was worn and gnarled, like that of a veteran seaman. His eyes shifted rapidly from one visitor to another. He spoke German with an atrocious Polish accent.
    I see.' Tweed tapped his fingers on the table. 'This is going to be difficult — maybe dangerous — for you. I don't like losing one of my finest operatives. I don't like that at all. I thought you would be able to help me by telling me how he spent his last hours on earth. I know he visited you. So you have already lied to me. And you pronounced his name rather well — for an English name you claim not to know. And my friend is Heinz. The trouble with Heinz is he has a short fuse. I'll ask you once more — tell me what you told Fergusson when he came to see you...'
    `The name means nothing. I'm a ship's chandler...`And I'm Chancellor of Germany,' Newman interjected. `That's rude...'
    Tweed surprised Newman by the swiftness and ruthlessness of his tactics. Normally he showed infinite patience in coaxing information from a suspect. He looked quickly at Newman.
    `Heinz, can we turn up Louis Armstrong louder? A wonder with the trumpet, Mr Armstrong.'
    Newman, looking very German, trod heavily towards the control panel for the hi-fi. He turned up the volume even louder. The oil lamps flickered, the lamps wobbled with the crescendo of vibration, the dark shadows across the ceiling moved and assumed new shapes. Newman casually extracted the Luger, leaned against a free space of wall and studied the weapon, pointing it at the roof.
    'Oh, Christ! You wouldn't...'
    Ziggy half-rose from his stool. Tweed slapped the flat of his hand on the bare wooden table top. A sound like a pistol shot.
    `Sit down. That's better. We wouldn't what? What time did Ian Fergusson arrive here?'
    `About three in the morning. After...' He stopped in mid-sentence.
    `After you had completed various illegal transactions,' Tweed said amiably. 'Like a bit of trafficking in drugs. Who told you what to say to Fergusson?' He leaned over the table as he spoke. 'Start talking. Now!'
    `The blond giant...' Again Ziggy stopped in-mid-air.
    'Oh, I see.' Tweed looked at Newman. 'The blond giant is back in the picture.'
    'You know the bastard?' Ziggy asked.
    'What name does he use with you?'
    'Schmidt.'
    Newman laughed unpleasantly. 'Schmidt. Of course.'
    'I swear to you he did.' Ziggy was suddenly becoming voluble and the words poured out. 'I had never seen him before. He was a big brute. He threatened me if I didn't tell Fergusson what he told me to say to him...'
    'How did he threaten you? Quickly,' Tweed rapped out.
    'He was going to burn me.' He pointed to a corner. 'See those two drums of petrol? He brought them