End of Spies by Alex Gerlis (popular ebook readers .txt) 📕

questions there. We need to treat this like a serious criminal investigation. Remember, I worked in the major robbery unit at Norrebro when I was in Copenhagen. I’m experienced in dealing with complex crimes, and that’s how I think we should treat this case. With respect, Richard, I know you’re a senior detective, but maybe this is more my kind of crime, so please do let me take the lead when we question Falmer.’

Charles Falmer – Charles Denton Falmer, according to his papers – appeared at first to be grateful to see them, as if he believed they’d come to help him. It was an impression reinforced by the way Prince began the questioning, speaking in a friendly manner and checking Falmer’s details – name, date of birth, address in England, where he worked in Cologne and the facts surrounding his arrest. More than once he said ‘we ought to have this sorted in no time’, and each time he said it, Falmer seemed to relax a little more. He appeared not to have shaved for a couple of days and was stroking his stubble, still unused to the novelty of it.

‘And you understand why the Americans had to confiscate their dollars, do you, Charles? They have very strict regulations on how much of their currency they allow to be in circulation in their zone.’

Falmer nodded, and smiled at Hanne, who had still said nothing.

‘And before you return to Cologne, it’s likely the English money will be confiscated too.’

Falmer nodded again, more hesitantly than before, but both Hanne and Prince guessed he was thinking this might be the end of the matter.

‘It’s an awful lot of money, Charles – the five hundred pounds sterling alone is close to two decent annual salaries. What the hell were you doing with all that?’

Falmer shrugged and muttered something neither of them could hear.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I said my uncle runs an art gallery in London and gave me the money to purchase a painting. I told them that and they seemed satisfied enough.’ He sat up straight in his chair and tossed his head back in a ‘so there’ manner, as if the explanation was perfectly reasonable.

Neither Prince nor his wife said anything as they watched the man in front of them. It was the familiar pose of someone who was frightened and worried but was concentrating a bit too hard on giving the impression that all was fine. They’d talked about this before, how suspects all too often put their efforts into appearing innocent rather than focusing on the subject matter of what they were being questioned about.

As the silence continued, Falmer appeared increasingly agitated. He moved around in his chair and ran his fingers through his thinning hair. According to his papers, he was forty, but he looked older, with a gaunt appearance and a pockmarked face. He fiddled nervously with his watch strap and adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. He was well-spoken, though with a voice as thin as his features, and Prince had noted that his background did not seem to match his status as a clerk in the Army Pay Corps.

At last Hanne leaned forward and nodded at her husband: my turn.

‘I think you’re talking nonsense, Mr Falmer!’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Charles Falmer looked both aggrieved and confused, not least at Hanne’s accent. He gave the impression that he wasn’t used to being spoken to like that, least of all by a woman and certainly not by one who sounded foreign.

‘I – we – don’t believe you. How about you tell us what happened, from the beginning?’

‘I thought I’d already done so. I had the impression our meeting here was to sort out my return to Cologne. Surely having the money confiscated is going to be ample punishment?’ Falmer addressed his remarks at Prince, ignoring Hanne.

She repeated her question, and they both noticed Falmer’s air of defiance leak away as it dawned on him that this was a more serious business than he’d thought. He’d come to terms with being discharged from the wretched Pay Corps, and though he knew he’d have to face his uncle’s wrath, his mother would ensure her brother wasn’t too harsh on him. She’d tell him he had no right to send his nephew on such a ridiculous errand. His hands started shaking and he clasped them together to keep them still as he started to tell his story again.

‘My uncle is an art dealer in London, and when I was back on leave recently he said he was in touch with a chap in Frankfurt about buying a painting and would I mind popping down from Cologne to pick it up. He gave me some money wrapped up in a parcel so I had no idea how much it was – I never opened it, you see. I had it in my briefcase and when I went out for a meal on the Saturday night, I took it with me. I’d been told there were some decent restaurants near the main post office and I saw a bar on the way so I thought I’d stop in for a drink, and that’s when someone tried to steal the briefcase – for all I know, they could even have put the money in there!’

‘That’s not how thieves tend to operate – in my experience they take money out of a bag rather than put it in.’

Falmer shrugged and again looked at Hanne as if he believed she had no right to speak to him like that.

‘Your uncle the art dealer…’

‘What about him?’

‘I’d like his name and address, please.’

Falmer started to say something, but stopped and was now looking quite flustered. ‘I’m not sure what the relevance is of—’

‘The relevance, Mr Falmer, is that you’re claiming the money came from your uncle in London who’s an art dealer, so it is perfectly reasonable for me to ask his name.’

‘Donald Ridgeway.’

‘And his address?’

Falmer’s foot was tapping hard on the floor. ‘He’s a partner