"Kyle, Duncan - Terror's Cradle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kyle Duncan)

'One more thing,' I said. 'She tried to phone me that night. I'd like to know what time that was.'

'Of course. I will ask the telephonist.'

I learned that Alsa had made, or tried to make, three phone calls that night. The first was to London, to the Daily News, but not presumably to Scown or he'd have mentioned it. The second was to me, the third to the police. It seemed likely she'd rung London to find out where I was, tried to reach me and finally, nearly three hours later, she'd called the police. What had happened in those three hours?

I'd have to get on to the police. I went up to my room intending to ring them but changed my mind and decided to go in person. I was putting on a raincoat when die phone rang. An Inspector Schmid was downstairs and would like to see me.

I told them to send him up, removed my mac and waited. Pederson had clearly called the police the moment I'd gone.

When the knock came on the door, I opened it and two men came into my room.

'Mr Sellers?" the first one asked. He was surprisingly small, no more than five feet six or so. I nodded. The size of policemen is in reverse ratio to the prosperity of a country.

'I am Inspector Schmid. This is Sergeant Gustaffson. I understand you are here about the case of Miss Alison Hay."

'Sit down,' I said. Schmid sat. His sergeant apparently preferred to stand.

'How much do you know, Mr Sellers?'

'Not much. What the hotel manager told me.'

'We ourselves know very little more.'

"No news, then?'

'None.'

I said, 'People don't just vanish. Do you know how she left the hotel?'

'We are concerned,' Schmid said, "because this lady had just returned from the Soviet Union.'

'I know she had. Why do you think it's relevant?'

He smiled. 'I prefer to believe everything is relevant until it is eliminated. May I see your passport?'

I handed it over and he flipped through the pages, then looked up at me. 'I see you have been to the Soviet Union recently, too.'

'Not too recently. Some time ago.'

'Yes.' He gave the passport back to me. 'I know, of course, the reason for her presence in Gothenburg. But not in detail.'

I said, 'The company she works for is producing a magazine about Russia for sale in Britain. She went to Russia to collect material and came here to put it together. The magazine's being printed here.'

'Why is that?'

'Usual reasons. Suitable printer at a suitable price.'

'Yes.' He looked at me for a moment. 'Why was a woman sent?'