Terminal

Twenty-Nine

Chaos. Beck shouting, 'Douse those bloody lights…' An order hardly necessary – the drivers inside the Audi and the Saab turned them off while he was shouting the order. No one wanted to be a target for the marksman. Policemen running all over the place. Newman had turned off his own lights.

It was Beck who regained control of the situation, issuing terse commands through his walkie-talkie. Policemen crouched under cover of the vehicles. Nancy was crouched over Seidler's spread-eagled body, checking his pulse. She turned to Beck who gently pressed her down by the car as Newman joined them.

`He's dead,' Nancy told them. 'Half his head was shot away by the first bullet…'

`My commiserations, madame,' said Beck.

'Why?'

`For your most unfortunate experiences in my country. This is the second time this week you have been present to confirm a violent death. If I may offer my services? We can fly you back to Berne in the helicopter. A policeman can drive your Citroen back to the Bellevue Palace.' He looked up. `There is something wrong, Newman?'

`Signer. Look at him. He's the only man who didn't move…'

The colonel was still standing motionless in front of the Saab where he, also, had been silhouetted in the glare of the beams of headlights. He stood with his hands clasped over his lower abdomen. Newman noticed he had now replaced the suede glove on his left hand.

`He is a soldier,' Beck commented, 'a man accustomed to the experience of being under fire. Here he comes…'

Signer walked slowly towards the crouched trio and remained standing as he stared down at them. His tone was remote and calm when he spoke.

`He missed me. You realize I was the target?'

Newman stood up slowly. He shook his head, staring direct at the colonel. Signer made an irritable gesture with one hand. When he spoke his tone suggested he was addressing a corporal he had decided to demote.

`Why are you shaking your head? Of course I was the target. I was standing still. Doubtless one of these crazy terrorists.'

`The killer was a marksman,' Newman replied. 'Maybe if there had been only one bullet the target would have been disputable. There was a second – which also hit Seidler straight on. That means a marksman. How many marksmen do you have under your command, Signer?'

`You are implying… what?'

`Gentlemen!' Beck had also stood up, retaining his hand on Nancy's shoulder to keep her under cover. 'Gentlemen,' he repeated, 'we have another murder on our hands. Many here are still in a state of shock. No arguments, no quarrels. That is final. Colonel, you wish to accompany us back to Berne in the helicopter?'

`Give me a car, a driver. I will go on to Geneva now we are so close. And I understood Military Intelligence wished to interview this man Seidler…'

`They might have some difficulty doing that now,' Beck observed. 'I will deal with the body – and you may have both a car and a driver to take you to Geneva. The Saab, I suggest. If you could leave at once, Colonel, it will help me to go about my duties.'

It was a dismissal and Signer knew it. He didn't like it. He turned on his heel without a word of thanks and climbed inside the rear of the Saab. Within a minute the tail-lights of the Saab were vanishing towards the French frontier.

I thought that was the way to France,' Nancy said to Beck.

`Madame, it is a most curious road. You cross the border into France, drive fifteen to twenty kilometres over French soil to La Cure, and there the road forks. One way north to the French hinterland, the other way down a devilish road to Geneva – after re-crossing the border into Switzerland.' He glanced towards Seidler's crumpled form. 'And now some unknown marksman has eliminated our only surviving witness.'

`There may be someone still left,' Newman replied. `The name, please,' Beck demanded.

I think the person I'm thinking of may be safer if for the moment I keep that information to myself. Incidentally, Beck, I noticed you led Seidler in front of those headlights.'

I have never claimed papal infallibility,' Beck responded stiffly. 'Shall we all board the helicopter and return to Berne…' He reached inside the rear of the Citroen. 'And I think we will take this second suitcase with us…'

`Beck, I'm asking you one more time. Let Dr Kennedy go. She can drive this car into France…'

`Out of the question. It is regrettable, madame, but you are a vital witness…'

`Then you'll get the minimum of cooperation from me,' Newman told him.

`Again regrettably, if necessary I shall have to soldier on by myself. May we now depart? I insist..

`What about that poor sod's body?'

`I have already summoned an ambulance to take him to the morgue in Berne. More work for the unfortunate Dr Kleist. And there are two more bodies at Le Pont station. Which route did you take to arrive here? And where did you pick up Manfred Seidler?'

Newman spoke quickly before Nancy could say anything. 'I drove up from Rolle. Seidler had phoned me earlier this evening to make the arrangement. He was waiting for us outside the Hotel de la Truite. I turned the car round and we drove for the French border. Seidler wanted to get out of Switzerland before he'd talk…'

`You did not go on to the station? Are you certain?'

`I was driving the bloody car. When we'd collected Seidler the job was done. The next objective was the French border. How many times do I have to tell you? And these bodies at the station. Whose bodies?'

`That we do not know. One of my patrol cars – I have them covering the whole Jura – reported finding the corpses over the radio. A message reached me aboard the helicopter. Two men – carrying no means of identification. Both armed with 9-mm. Lugers. One man was clasping his weapon when they discovered them.' He turned to Nancy. 'Tomorrow there is to be a large medical reception held at the Bellevue. Will you be attending that?'

`Yes. Since we have to go back I'll take the opportunity to talk with Professor Grange. There are a few questions I want to ask him…'

`That reception may be an explosive affair,' Beck commented. 'Before I flew here I heard that Dr Max Nagel had just arrived from Basle – Professor Grange's most bitter enemy. There may be more than one confrontation. Something tells me this affair is coming to a head…'

`I'm frozen,' Nancy protested. 'Can we get moving…'

`Of course. My apologies. Let me lead the way. It is a large machine so you should have a comfortable flight…'

`Don't expect much conversation,' Newman rapped back.

The helicopter was a French Alouette. As it lifted off and gained height Newman looked down on the white wasteland below, the graveyard of three men in one night. There were two incidents during the flight to Belp.

Beck opened each suitcase, raising the lids so no one else could see the contents. Newman saw him freeze for a moment when he saw the gas mask. Beck leaned over in his seat and he spoke with his mouth close to Newman's ear.

`Did you have a chance to open these cases?'

Newman shook his head, making no verbal response above the roar of the rotors. A short while later Beck received a message over the radio. He made no reference to it as the chopper flew on to Be1p.

Another black Audi was waiting for them when they landed at Be1p. Beck took the wheel after placing both suitcases in the boot, inviting Nancy to sit in the back while Newman sat alongside him. They drove in silence along the motorway to Berne. Newman was determined to give the police chief no conversational opening. His only comment was to insist that Beck drove them to the Bellevue Palace. No more interviews at the Taubenhalde: Nancy was exhausted with her ordeal and he was pretty tired himself.

`That radio message I received aboard the Alouette,' Beck began as they approached the outskirts of Berne. 'One of the patrols stopped a red Mercedes for checking near Neuchatel, a car driven by a chauffeur with one passenger in the back.'

`That concerns me?'

`It might concern us both. The passenger was Dr Bruno Kobler. He said he was on his way to Geneva from Berne. A curious route to take. He brushed aside any suggestion he had been anywhere in the vicinity of the Juras. One of the patrol car men noticed the car's tyres had faint traces of snow crust embedded in the treads. There is no snow at that level…'

`I see. Why didn't they search the car?'

`On what grounds? And I have to be careful. Very powerful men are waiting for me to make one false move – so I can be removed from the case. I found his destination interesting – recalling that Colonel Signer said he also was heading for Geneva.'

`You did say a red Mercedes?' Newman enquired. He said no more when Beck confirmed the colour of the car.

`God! I feel trapped, Bob,' Nancy said as they settled down in their bedroom. She kept walking about restlessly. One part of me wants to stay – to be near Jesse, to try and haul him out of that place. Another part wants to get away – yet I like Berne, I like the people. Do I have to go to Beck's office with you in the morning?'

`Stop pacing round like a tigress. Sit down and have something to drink. It will relax you…'

They had used Room Service to send up plates of smoked salmon and a bottle of Yvorne, a dry Swiss white wine. Newman filled their glasses and sipped at the wine as Nancy flopped in a chair beside him.

`Beck needs affidavits from both of us. We witnessed the murder of Seidler…'

`We witnessed two more murders. You were quick with your reply when he asked you about the station at Le Pont. Can we get away with that? Is it wise?'

`It's self-preservation. Beck has enough ammunition to hold us here already. Why give him more? Aren't you curious as to who the marksman was?'

`I'm more concerned about challenging Grange face to face at the reception – now we have to stay. What are you going to do about all this, Bob? You said there was another witness. Who is it?'

Newman shook his head and drank more wine before he replied. 'I'm meeting the witness tomorrow afternoon. Better you don't know who or where. And don't forget we still have Novak. He is coming to that reception. Explosive was the word which Beck used. I think he could be right – especially if Nagel from Basle turns up. Beck is stage-managing something, I'm sure. The trouble is, I'm not sure about Beck.'

`We can't trust anyone then?'

I've tried to hammer that into you. It was a natural route towards the chopper when Beck led Seidler past those headlights but, as I said, I wonder. Then Signer cleverly placed himself in front of the Saab's headlights. I suspect he signalled to the marksman..

`That I could believe. He's a creepy, cold-blooded swine. But how did he do it?'

`You didn't notice? He took off one of his suede gloves and clenched his fist. Kill him! I think that was the way it was done.'

`You mean Beck and Signer worked as a team?'

`Nancy! I don't know yet!'

`Is that why you didn't give Beck that tape of your conversation with Seidler in the house – or the photographs you took of that hideous gas mask? That's vital evidence..

`It is, but Beck gets it only when I decide I can fully trust him -. if ever. That would be the time for another sworn affidavit from you – that you witnessed the recorded conversation.'

`I'm flaked out.' She drank her glass of wine, slipped off her skirt and sprawled on the bed, her raven hair spread out on the pillow. 'So what do you plan on doing next?' she asked sleepily.

`First, see my final witness tomorrow. He may just blow the whole thing wide open. Second, accompany you to the reception so I can get a good look at Grange, maybe Max Nagel, too – the leaders of the two opposing power blocs. Third, if nothing else has worked, I'm going to try and break in to the Berne Clinic – with Novak's help. I want to see inside the laboratory – and their atombunker…'

He stopped speaking. Nancy had fallen fast asleep, leaving her smoked salmon untouched. Newman swallowed his own food, drank some more of the wine, put on his coat and slipped out of the bedroom, locking the door behind him. As soon as he had left the room Nancy opened her eyes, sat up and reached for the phone.

Newman stepped inside the lift and pressed the button for the lowest level, the floor below the main entrance hall. Using this route he hoped to leave the hotel unseen. When the doors opened he turned right past the garderobe which was now closed. It was 10 pm.

Climbing a flight of steps into the deserted hall below the coffee shop, he walked out into the street, pausing to turn up his collar and glance in both directions. Then he walked rapidly to the public phone box, glancing all round again before he went inside. He dialled the number from memory. The familiar voice answered immediately.

Inside Room 214 at the Bellevue Palace, seated on the bed, Lee Foley picked up the phone on the second ring. He had been expecting the call for the past half hour. He listened for several minutes, then interrupted his caller and spoke rapidly.

`I know about Le Pont. I think from now on you're going to have to let me operate on my own. Goddamnit, we do have enough information at this stage in the game to guess at what is going on. It's going to get pretty tough. Playing tough games is what I'm trained for. Just go on keeping me informed..

Inside Room 312 at the Bellevue Tweed perched on a chair, crouched forward, his expression intent as he held the phone to his ear. When the conversation ended he replaced the receiver and walked over to his bed where he had spread out two maps.

One map, large-scale, showed the Canton of Berne. The second was a road and rail map of the whole of Switzerland. Polishing his glasses on the silk handkerchief, he looped the handles over his ears and stopped to examine closely the map of Berne.

Reaching for a ruler lying on the bed, he measured roughly the distance between Berne and Thun along the motorway. He'd have to hire a car in the morning – although he knew Blanche would have been happy to act as chauffeuse. Tweed hated driving; perhaps he should have asked Blanche who, he knew, had a car as well as her scooter. He decided he would sleep on the decision. Tomorrow promised to be D-Day.

`And who was that calling at this hour?' asked Gisela. 'It is after ten o'clock. Time you went home…'

`An informant,' Beck replied. He felt depressed. On his desk lay the new file Gisela had opened. Case of Manfred Seidler. He turned to the first page she had typed from his dictation and his eyes wandered to the neat stack of other files to his right. Hannah Stuart, Julius Nagy, Bernard Mason. To say nothing of the files which would need to be opened on the two bodies found at Le Pont station as soon as some sort of identification had been established. It was becoming a massacre.

`Things will look better in the morning,' Gisela said gently. `You're tired and in a black mood…'

`Not really. All the players in this terrible drama have – or soon will be – assembled under one roof. The Bellevue Palace. Tweed, Newman, Dr Kennedy, Lee Foley. Tomorrow we'll have under that same roof Armand Grange – doubtless accompanied by his hatchetman, Bruno Kobler. Also Dr Max Nagel is there already. Very satisfactory that to a policeman – to know the location of all concerned. Our people are already inside the Bellevue, I take it? With my trip to the Juras I've not been in touch..

`Three of our men – all unknown to the Bellevue staff – booked in at the hotel at different times. Their names are on the pad by your left elbow.'

`So, as the august Colonel Signer would say, we have made our dispositions. The Bellevue will be our battlefield…'

It was close to midnight when Bruno Kobler arrived back at the Berne Clinic and hurried inside to his office on the first floor while his chauffeur parked the red Mercedes in the garage. His employer was waiting for him.

Huge curtains were drawn over the smoked glass picture window. The office was illuminated by shaded lamps which threw dark shadows. The Professor stood listening while Kobler reported on the evening's events in terse sentences.

`Very good, Bruno,' he commented, 'that solves one outstanding problem very satisfactorily. All other discordant elements can be dealt with after the dispersal of the doctors attending the Congress. I have decided to bring forward our final experiment. Once that is confirmed as successful, Terminal becomes a fait accompli.'

`Bring it forward?' Kobler sounded puzzled. 'To when?' `Tomorrow evening.'

`While the reception is taking place at the Bellevue Palace?'

`Exactly.' There was a note of contentment in the soft voice. 'It occurred to me the opportunity was too good to overlook. You see, Bruno, everyone will have their eyes focused on the reception. It has become known that I shall put in an appearance.'

`But you will not be present to witness the results…'

`You are perfectly capable of supervising the experiment. As to the results, I can examine the body when I return from the reception. We chose female patients for the previous trials because – as you know – they are biologically stronger than men. This time, as I mentioned earlier, we will use a male patient.'

`I may have the perfect subject, Professor. Also, we know now this patient has been playing tricks on us. We moved him to another room for a few hours to clean out his permanent quarters. While removing the grille to feed a fresh reel on to the tape-recorder we discovered a quantity of sodium amytal capsules. This patient has not been sedated when it was assumed he was. He may have overheard anything.'

Kobler took a file from his drawer, opened it to the first page, which carried a photo and the name of the patient, and placed it under his desk-lamp for the Professor's inspection.

`Excellent, I agree.'

The photograph showed a man with strongly-defined features and a hooked nose. The name at the top of the page typed in red and underlined was Jesse Kennedy.