The Munich Dilemma
by Sinbad

Chapter 7

The Olympic Village was decorated with rows of flagpoles with colour co-ordinated tall narrow flags. As they walked across a manicured lawn Ricky caught a glimpse through the fleeting gap between flags of a group of people walking together in a tangential direction. He pulled at Chris's elbow to stop him and pointed.

“Look. Over there. The short one. Haven't we seen him before?”

Chris looked. Six men were in the group Ricky was pointing to, and one of them was noticeably shorter than the others, maybe five foot six. He was probably in his thirties, with a thin face and longish straight hair. He looked somehow delicate, and Chris thought he looked, well, slightly familiar. But he couldn't place him.

“Who is he? I don't remember.”

“It's the German woman from Jordan. Do you remember? Kamille?”

“But that's a man!”

“Yes. And do you remember why the police never caught her? She escaped in a helicopter with her pilot, and Roly was able to describe the exact model of helicopter. And there was a helicopter matching his description that landed at an airport somewhere at about the right time. I forget where. But it had two men in it, not a man and a woman. I think I know why – that man is her!”

It took Chris a few moments to consider it. Bettina and Geoff were completely in the dark, of course, and just looked at him in puzzlement.

“You could be right. He certainly does look like her. But it's five years ago now, and it's amazing you spotted him. Ricky you've got a weird mind, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Thanks, I expect you meant that as a compliment? The question is, what can we do about it now?”

“That's easy. Tell Mr Farquharson. He'll know what to do.”

“Yes. But what if we tell him and by the time they come to arrest him he's disappeared again?”

The two boys went quiet, perplexed. Ricky glanced at Geoff and Bettina.

“Will you help us? We think that man might be a terrorist and there's a man in England, who works for the government, who will know what to do about it. But I think it's important we don't lose sight of him.”

He paused, thinking. “Or at least that we know where he goes. So I wonder if this would work. Chris follows him at a distance, like in the movies, so he doesn't know he's being followed. Bettina, you follow Chris, but far enough behind that I can find you when I get back. Mr Talbott, will you take me to your room so I can use the phone? We'll need to run, so we get back before Bettina has disappeared completely and we can find her, and Chris, and Kamille.”

Geoff Talbott was used to boyish enthusiasms. He knew that sometimes boys got it into their heads that something was so, and nothing would budge them from their conviction, even in the face of an experienced adult telling them they were wrong. He wasn't going to be drawn into this hair-brained scheme but he knew it was unlikely he'd be able to persuade them not to pursue it. So he tried a damage limitation exercise.

“We're in Munich, and there are German police on every corner. It'll be quicker if you just tell the local people of your suspicion and leave them to deal with it. They know what they're doing.”

Ricky looked at Chris. Chris looked at Ricky. Together they shook their heads. They knew how clever Kamille Blumfeld was, and they knew this man would have no criminal record, and he would have a thoroughly plausible reason for being where he was. They knew the only chance of getting him arrested was to talk to someone who knew in detail how dangerous he was. And the only man in that position was Mr Farquharson.

“Sir, I'm sorry, but we know Mr Farquharson and he told us to speak to him, and no-one but him, if we had any information about this person. Please let me phone him?”

Geoff considered his options for just a second. Then he just nodded and they ran off. Chris and Bettina were left to watch the group of men in the distance, and as they walked, in no hurry, away from the two teenagers, Chris left Bettina where she was and moved off parallel to the direction the group were going.

Ricky and Geoff ran. And Geoff could really run, of course. He took Ricky's hand and pulled him along with him, Ricky had to force his legs into a faster rhythm than he could have run at on his own, in order not to trip and fall flat on his face. But it worked, and in no time they were back at Geoff's room and Ricky was on the phone. He managed to ask International Directory Enquiries for the number of the Foreign Office, London, and phoned and got through to a receptionist, but when he asked for Mr Farquharson she claimed there was no such person working there. Ricky panicked, thinking how awful it would be if a terrorist escaped justice because a grown-up wouldn't take a child seriously. Maybe it was the panic, but something made him aggressive.

“Mr Farquharson does work there, he's Lord Beaulieu, and if you don't put me through to him immediately people may die. So put me through, now, you stupid woman or take the consequences!”

Geoff Talbott watched him with a wry smile. He was still somewhat bemused by the turn of events, but he was beginning to think that the children he was spending time with were not quite what they seemed, and he was enjoying the experience.

Ricky's outburst had the desired effect, and very quickly Mr Farquharson was on the other end of the line.

“Young Ricky, is it? We met, what, five years ago? Well, now, much as I would like to catch up on old times with you, I suspect there is something urgent about this call so the rest can wait. So, what can I do for you?”

Ricky told him where he was, and who he was with, and then told him about his sighting of the man who looked so like Kamille Blumfeld. And that Chris was now following the group of men, and their friend Bettina was trying to be somewhere she could still see Chris but would be in sight of Ricky when he returned after the phone call. Mr Farquharson didn't interrupt until Ricky finished.

“You've done very well, young man. How old are you now? sixteen? no, it'll be seventeen. Well, I'm proud of you. And I think there's a real possibility you're right about this man, the file I compiled at the time shows I had a suspicion that Kamille might be a man in disguise. So I need you to be very careful. Let him escape rather than let him suspect you. You hear me? This could be very dangerous.”

“Yes, Mr Farquharson.”

“Okay. I just want you to be safe. Now, as soon as you put the phone down I want you to go back to find your friend, er, Bettina, isn't it? And the two of you follow Chris as he follows the suspect. But each time you see a public phone, I want Bettina, not you, to run to the phone booth and phone interpol and tell them exactly where you've got to. She'll be able to explain in German better. Have you got a pen and paper?”

Geoff didn't need to hear Mr Farquharson's side of the conversation, he could guess that a notepad would be needed and he had one ready, and a pen. Ricky wrote down the phone number and a name dictated by Lord Beaulieu.

“Tell Bettina to phone that number and ask for that man. They will be expecting your call and I hope they can get to you quickly, quick enough to arrest Kamille. Now, go! Don't waste a moment! Goodbye – and I'll catch up with you soon!”

Ricky said his goodbye and put the phone down. Clutching the pad and pen he ran with Geoff's amazing help hand in hand back to the open space where Bettina was... nowhere to be seen. Ricky scanned around, looking for her. No sign of her, but they knew the direction the group of men had been going, so they moved off in that direction, fast, but no so fast that they couldn't check all the time for any sign of Bettina. There was a gentle rise, a grassy knoll, carefully landscaped for the village, and once they had reached the brow they could see further – and in the distance they made out Bettina at the edge of the green where one of the pathways led off between the accommodation blocks. She saw them and waved frantically. They set of running again, and caught up.

“They went that way and Chris has followed them, but I can not any more see him, but he is there somewhere. Come!”

And they all ran down the footpath between the buildings. At intervals their path was crossed by another, running between the rows of apartment blocks, and at each they paused and looked both ways, in hope of seeing Chris. But not until they reached the end of the accommodation area did they see him, not watching them but watching something ahead of him and not visible to them, around a corner. Kamille and her, or rather his, henchmen, Ricky surmised.

Geoff at this point left them to it, he had a training session, and thought they'd be safe enough where they were, playing their game – although he had a twinge of doubt following the rather convincing conversation he'd heard Ricky having with the Foreign Office official.

Bettina had no such doubts and listened enthusiastically to Ricky's description of the conversation with Mr Farquharson. And now was the time for her to make her phone call. Ricky began walking towards where he could still see Chris up ahead, while Bettina ran off the path to the first block of apartments to the phone booth that she found at the foot of its stairwell. She phoned the number on Ricky's pad and asked for the name on the pad. Immediately, and impressively, a man came on the line and asked her for directions. She told him she was in the Olympic village, and the number of the apartment block from the nameplate above the door. He told her not to let the suspect out of her sight, and if she had to leave the apartment block, to phone again with revised location.

Bettina was enjoying herself. She was involved in an adventure she hardly understood the significance of, but she did realise that it as for real. It was no game. And she found that she loved it.

Back outside she rejoined Ricky, now a little closer to Chris, and the two of them crept nearer to him. They nearly, but not quite, caught up. He saw them and waved momentarily before going back to concentrating on his quarry. Bettina trotted off again and made another phone call to update the man on the phone with their new location.

The couldn't see the group of men but they could see Chris and they could tell that he was watching them. Or watching someone, anyway. They didn't want to approach Chris in case that called attention to him and spooked Kamille. So they kept back and waited.

And waited. Twenty minutes they waited, fortunately Chris didn't move from his spot, still apparently watching something or somebody, and Ricky and Bettina didn't move from their position, looking around for the arrival of some sort of official force to arrest Kamille.

A car drew up at the junction of the footpath with the nearest roadway about fifty metres behind them. They could just make out, it was a police car. Light green, central white panel on the door, blue light on the roof and, just in case it wasn't already obvious this was a police car, the word 'POLIZEI' written in big black letters in the white panel. Two occupants, policemen in green uniforms and peaked caps, emerged from the car and began walking towards them along the path. Ricky frowned. Would Kamille see the car? If she, sorry, he, saw it he would disperse his group and disappear and they'd lose him. What were the Germans thinking of, sending a marked police car?

To compound the problem, a second car the same as the first drew up beside it, this one even had its blue light on and flashing.

Chris appeared, running towards them. He was shouting as he approached.

“Which idiot frightened them off? I had them, they didn't suspect I was watching them, and then that blue light turned up and they scarpered!”

Ricky shrugged his shoulders, he was as disappointed as Chris. They turned and watched as the policemen arrived, running and out of breath. The first policeman to reach them called out to them, between breaths. “Wo sind Sie, dann?”

Chris and Ricky just pointed into the distance where they'd last seen the group of suspects. Bettina began explaining the whole story, making it clear that they'd lost Kamille only when the police cars showed up.

Two policemen rushed off to see if they could trace the departed group. The others gathered around the teenagers and the one who had got to them first, who seemed to be in charge, told them it would now be necessary for them to make a formal report of what had taken place, and that it would be best to do that at the police station. So they all began walking towards the police cars.

Bettina, who was translating wonderfully now that she'd got into the swing of it, told the policeman that they would have to phone their parents to let them know where they were, and also somehow to contact Geoff Talbott who was supposed to be responsible for them while they were in the Olympic village. Her tone of voice made it clear what she thought of Mr Talbott's sense of responsibility.

They arrived at the police cars and the two men who'd gone to investigate returned saying there was no sign of the suspects. So they drove back to base.