World War II Thriller Collection Read Online Free PDF Page A

soon as the corporal’s absence was noted, but several hours after the death. A man answering the hitchhiker’s description had bought a ticket to Cairo at the railway station, but by the time the body was found the train had arrived in Cairo and the killer had melted into the city.
    There was no indication of motive.
    The Egyptian police force and the British Military Police would be investigating already in Assyut, and their colleagues in Cairo would, like Vandam, be learning the details this morning. What reason was there for Intelligence to get involved?
    Vandam frowned and thought again. A European is picked up in the desert. He says his car has broken down. He checks into a hotel. He leaves a few minutes later and catches a train. His car is not found. The body of a soldier is discovered that night in the hotel room.
    Why?
    Vandam got on the phone and called Assyut. It took the army camp switchboard a while to locate Captain Newman, but eventually they found him in the arsenal and got him to a phone.
    Vandam said: “This knife murder almost looks like a blown cover.”
    â€œThat occurred to me, sir,” said Newman. He sounded a young man. “That’s why I marked the report for Intelligence.”
    â€œGood thinking. Tell me, what was your impression of the man?”
    â€œHe was a big chap—”
    â€œI’ve got your description here—six foot, twelve stone, dark hair and eyes—but that doesn’t tell me what he was like .”
    â€œI understand,” Newman said. “Well, to be candid, at first I wasn’t in the least suspicious of him. He looked all in, which fitted with his story of having broken down on the desert road, but apart from that he seemed an upright citizen: a white man, decently dressed, quite well spoken with an accent he said was Dutch, or rather Afrikaans. His papers were perfect—I’m still quite sure they were genuine.”
    â€œBut . . . ?”
    â€œHe told me he was checking on his business interests in Upper Egypt.”
    â€œPlausible enough.”
    â€œYes, but he didn’t strike me as the kind of man to spend his life investing in a few shops and small factories and cotton farms. He was much more the assured cosmopolitan type: if he had money to invest it would probably be with a London stockbroker or a Swiss bank. He just wasn’t a small-timer . . . It’s very vague, sir, but do you see what I mean?”
    â€œIndeed.” Newman sounded a bright chap, Vandam thought. What was he doing stuck out in Assyut?
    Newman went on: “And then it occurred to me that he had, as it were, just appeared in the desert, and I didn’t really know where he might have come from . . . so I told poor old Cox to stay with him, on the pretense of helping him, to make sure he didn’t do a bunk before we had a chance to check his story. I should have arrested the man, of course, but quite honestly, sir, at the time I had only the most slender suspicion—”
    â€œI don’t think anyone’s blaming you, Captain,” said Vandam. “You did well to remember the name and address from the papers. Alex Wolff, Villa Les Oliviers, Garden City, right?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œAll right, keep me in touch with any developments at your end, will you?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    Vandam hung up. Newman’s suspicions chimed with his own instincts about the killing. He decided to speak to his immediate superior. He left his office, carrying the incident report.
    General Staff Intelligence was run by a brigadier with the title of Director of Military Intelligence. The DMI had two deputies: DDMI(O)—for Operational—and DDMI(I)—for Intelligence. The deputies were colonels. Vandam’s boss, Lieutenant Colonel Bogge, came under the DDMI(I). Bogge was responsible for personnel security, and most of his time was spent administering the censorship apparatus. Vandam’s concern was