Assassination Brigade

Fifteen

The weather was cold and clear when we landed in Berne. Elsa knew of a small chalet on the outskirts of the city, so we took connecting rooms there.

“We always stay at this place,” Elsa explained to me after we had settled into our quarters. “It’s good to have a spot like this when it becomes too confining at the spa.”

I liked our accommodations. It was a clean, quiet, cheerful place, with warming fires burning in every room. The elderly white-haired, apple-cheeked proprietor and his wife had an excellent reputation. From a window in my room, Elsa pointed out the health spa, which was on the top of a mountain some distance away. After she had left me to go to her own room, I studied the spa through my binoculars.

It was a huge sprawling complex, with a multi-storied main building surrounded by several smaller buildings. All were in a dazzling white that blended with the snow-covered peaks jutting up on all sides around it. I could see a twisting single-lane road that led to the place and a cable car that was suspended from twin trolley lines overhead. From that distance, it wasn’t possible to make out much of the details. I wondered how I would make my approach — secretly, or as a guest, or, perhaps, through Elsa. But for the time being, I would bide my time and try to get the lay of the land. Besides, if the Von Alders were somehow involved in the plot, Elsa would sooner or later see to it that I was lured there.

Meanwhile, it probably would be a good idea to make contact with the local AXE agent. I had never met him, but Hawk had told me his name and where to find him. I tapped on the door that connected my room with Elsa’s and told her I was going out for a while. She would give herself a beauty treatment while I was gone and be waiting for me when I returned.

Hans Verblen, the local AXE representative, met me at die door of a modest tailor’s shop that bore his name on one of Berne’s side streets. Verblen was expecting me. He said that Hawk had already told him the details of my assignment in a phone call from the States. He was at my disposal.

“What can I do to help?” the fat dark-haired man asked.

“Mostly,” I told him, “I’d like to have as much information as you’ve got on the Rejuvenation Health Spa. Has there ever been any trouble up there? Who runs it? Information like that.”

Verblen nodded, locked the door to his tailor shop, and led me to the basement. It was a spacious, soundproof area with file cabinets solidly lining the wall. There were cameras, tape recorders, teletype machines, weapons of all varieties everywhere.

“This is where I do my real work,” Verblen explained with a wave of his hand.

“It’s quite a set-up,” I remarked.

Verblen crossed over to one of the cabinets. “I’m afraid I don’t have a very extensive file on the spa. Until Hawk’s phone call, I had had no special request to gather intelligence on the place. What I have is strictly routine, no more than I have on every other establishment in the city. There’s been no trouble there, as far as I know. They have a steady flow of guests who come from all over the world — most of them wealthy. I always try to photograph as many of die arrivals and departures as I can with a camera using a telescopic lens. But, naturally, I’m sure I’ve missed a good many.”

He dumped the photographs out on the table, and I was amazed to see that there were thousands of pictures.

“You certainly earn your keep, Verblen,” I said, shaking my head at the proof of his thoroughness. I thumbed through a few of the photos and spotted all four of the Von Alders in pictures taken at different times.

“Do you think these will be of any help to you?” Verblen asked.

“Not at the moment, I’m afraid,” I told him. “They may come in handy later. What I’m interested in right now is anything you can show me or tell me about the inside of the spa. And about Frederick Bosch, the doctor who runs it.”

“There isn’t much to show or tell,” Verblen answered. I could see he was disappointed in himself. “You understand, that the spa is a very exclusive place. Because there are so many affluent guests, the security is tight. I myself have never been inside, so I have no photographs of the interior. If there had been a special request from AXE, I would have found a way in, of course.”

“Yes, I understand, but what about the doctor?”

“Again you will be disappointed in the answer,” Verblen said. “I have no photographs of Dr. Bosch because he seldom, if ever, ventures outside. I have heard that he’s European. He came here many years ago and opened the spa. At first it was a very modest place, but it was always successful. It has been remodeled frequently over the years to become the imposing structure it is today. I have no dossier on the doctor because he has never been in trouble with any of the Swiss authorities, nor with any other officials as far as the Interpol files show. I’ve taken the precaution of checking.”

“It’s possible that try to slip into the spa unobserved,” I told Verblen. “If I do decide to try, I might call on you for assistance.”

Verblen inclined his head slightly. “Anything I can do to help, I’m prepared to do. I’m only sorry that I couldn’t provide you with more information.”

“You may have assisted me more than you realize,” I said to his surprise. “I’ve learned from you, for example, that Dr. Bosch rarely appears in public. That may not be important, but on the other hand, it makes me slightly suspicious. Being suspicious, I’ll be more careful.”

Verblen led me back upstairs, and I left him at the door to his shop and started to walk back to the chalet. The air was crisp and invigorating. It was late afternoon and most of the shops on the street were closed and locked. I was enjoying my walk and preoccupied with looking in the small shop windows along the street, so I didn’t hear the car when it pulled alongside of me. The first intimation of danger didn’t come until I saw the reflection in the glass window of one of the shops of the dark car at the curb near me and of the five men who had leaped from its open doors and were now rushing toward me.

I twirled in sudden reflex, my hand going for Wilhelmina in the shoulder holster, but all five of them were on top of me before I could pull the Luger free. They came at me from all sides, their fists thudding into my body in short, savage chops. I put up only token resistance — just enough, I hoped, to fool them — add let my body go limp, my head wobble from side to side, and my eyes close in feigned unconsciousness.

“Good,” I heard one of the men say, “He’s out. Get him into the car. Quickly!”

Two of the men took me by the shoulders and two more grabbed the feet. They began to lug me across the sidewalk. I had let them get me about halfway to the car when I suddenly kicked out with both feet, catching one of the men carrying me by the feet and then the other, full in the face. Both screamed and staggered back, clutching their faces. At the same time I had lunged upward, and as my feet became free, I broke loose from the two men who were holding me by the shoulders. The suddenness of my movements had taken them all by surprise. I turned to him.

The fifth man, who had preceded us to the car, was kneeling by one of the open doors with a gun in his hand. He fired, and the bullet chipped off a piece of pavement about an inch away from me. By then, I had Wilhelmina in my own hand. The man only had the opportunity to snap off one more shot before I had steadied the barrel of my Luger and put a bullet in his belly. He fell backwards into the car, his legs hanging out on the street.

The other four men had darted away to various positions along the street. One ducked into the doorway of a building, two others turned into an alleyway, and the fourth dashed behind a parked car. I was still looking for a place to take refuge. AH four opened fire at me at the same time. I fired back and then kneeled and took aim at the exposed legs of the man behind the car. I squeezed Wilhelmina’s trigger twice and the man screamed and pitched forward, both legs shot out from under him.

Other shots were coming at me from both sides. I wondered what the peace-loving Swiss citizens were thinking of all the gunfire in their normally quiet town. The gunmen had me pinned down between their own car and the front of the shop where I had been standing when their car had approached. I knew I had to take refuge from the street before they rushed me. But I couldn’t run behind the car because they would have a clear shot at me, and the door to the shop behind me was closed and locked.

Then I saw the three gunmen coming for me, and I had to move. I fired off a couple of shots to try to hold them off briefly. There was only one thing possible to do. Lowering my head, with my arms cradled over it to protect my face, I sprinted across the sidewalk and plunged through the glass window of the shop behind me. The glass splintered into great shards that crashed into the street outside, but I was inside and out of immediate danger.

The shop was a small toy store with displays of games and dolls. Apparently it was deserted. I raced on through it and found a back door that opened. I had escaped into a back alley. I ducked around the side of the building just long enough to see the men who had tried to ambush me scurrying for their parked car. Three of them were dragging the other two into the car, and they sped away. By then I could hear the wail of klaxons coming closer. The police were on the way. I headed for my hotel and walked through back alleys until I was well out of die area.

No one paid any attention to me when I entered the chalet. I could still hear the wail of police cars in the distance, and the sound continued for a long time.

As soon as I had reached my room, I grabbed my binoculars and went to the window. I trained the binoculars on die road leading up the mountain to the spa and had no trouble finding the dark car. I had been sure that the men had come from the place, and what I saw confirmed that fact.

Well, I thought, I’d been wanting to go to the spa, all right, but not that way.

The incident had proved that somebody knew I was interested in the spa and either meant to take me there by force — or see that I never got there alive. How had the live men — who were obviously from the spa — known I was in Berne? Through Elsa—? Perhaps. But I had also talked to Verblen, the Swiss AXE agent. Could he have been the one? As I knew only too well from past experience, anything was possible.