by Colin Forbes
I should leave here quickly if I were you…'
`It will be a pleasure…'
`First,' Astrid demanded, 'you must fill in the visiting forms at reception. It is the regulation…'
`It will be a pleasure,' Newman repeated.
The chill air of darkening night swept across the exposed plateau as they stood at the top of the steps outside the glassed-in verandah. But it was still daylight as Newman pulled on his gloves and Nancy shivered beside him. Novak had not come out to see them off, presumably to avoid any impression of intimacy.
`Cold?' Newman asked.
`This place gives me the creeps. My first impression – as soon as I saw the place – was right. There's something abnormal about the Clinic, Bob…'
`We'll talk about it in the car. With a bit of luck we should be back in Berne just before night…'
He drove down the curving drive slowly, again looking round to check the layout. A pallid light glowed over the stark and grim mountains on the far side of Thun. Nancy huddled herself inside her coat and turned up the heater. She looked out on both sides and then back through the rear window.
`There never seems to be anyone about – and yet I get the uncanny feeling unseen eyes are watching our every move. I'm not usually like this. Look – that's the sort of thing I mean…'
As they approached the gatehouse there were no signs of life but the gates opened. Newman drove between them, turned right and headed down the narrow road to the wider road where they had placed the sign to the Berne Clinic. She glanced at his profile.
`You've changed recently,' she remarked. date it from when we'd been a few hours in Geneva.'
`Changed? In what way?'
`You used to be so light-hearted, always smiling and cracking jokes. You look so terribly serious and determined. And why did you go running after that trolley when we left Jesse's room? Novak thought you'd taken leave of your senses.'
`What do you think was lying under that sheet?'
`Some unfortunate soul who'd just passed away..
`Do corpses normally waggle their hand? Whatever was under that sheet did just that.'
`Oh, my God. The sheet was pulled right over the body…'
`And that's only done when the patient is dead. That one was very much alive. My guess is that whoever was spread out under the sheet heard us and was trying to signal. Now you know why I ran after them. They beat me to a door which closed in my face – an automatic door, of course. That damned place is more like a giant computer than a clinic.'
`You mean they were running from you? I thought the trolley's brakes weren't working – that the momentum was carrying it down that ramp. Where does that corridor lead to?'
`A good question. There's a complex of new buildings further down the slope. I think they have a covered tunnel leading there. The corridor runs into the tunnel.'
`What kind of complex?'
`That, my dear Nancy, is one of the things I plan to ask our friend Dr Novak when I meet him in Thun on Thursday night.
`He agreed to meet you! That's strange. Where are you seeing him? I can come, can't I?'
`The rendezvous is immaterial. It is strange that he agreed. And no, you can't come…'
Bastard! Why do you think he did agree?' she asked as they came close to the bridge over the motorway and the slip road leading down on to the highway.
`I got the impression he's scared witless about something. I also think he's been waiting for the chance to contact someone outside that claustrophobic prison he can trust, he can confide in. And why are you so bothered about the Berne Clinic?'
`Did you notice the absence of something from Jesse's room?'
`I don't think so. I was too busy talking to Novak – to cover the fact you were talking to Jesse. What did I miss?'
`I'll tell you later,' she said, 'when we're back at the hotel. Do you think Jesse is safe in that place?'
Tor the next few days, yes. Didn't you get the point of my shouting the odds about the medical reception at the Bellevue? They have a tape recorder behind that grille…'
`It really is creepy…'
`My strategy,' he continued, 'was to frighten them to ensure they don't harm him. They'll be very careful with Jesse until that medical congress is over. By then we may know what's going on at the Berne Clinic. I was buying time…'
They had turned down the slip road and were now speeding along the deserted motorway back towards Berne. It was so overcast Newman had his lights on and they were approaching the point where another slip road entered the motorway beyond a bridge. In his rear view mirror Newman saw a black Mercedes coming fast behind him. It signalled and swung out into the fast lane prior to overtaking. Then all hell broke loose on the motorway.
A helmeted figure appeared behind Newman on a scooter, sounding the horn in urgent, non-stop blasts. The Mercedes had not yet drawn alongside. Newman frowned, his eyes moving from side to side. At the exit to the slip road ahead a giant orange-coloured snowplough was moving slowly forward, its huge blade raised to its highest arc. The scooter horn continued its blasting sound.
`What's the matter with that man?' Nancy asked.
She was speaking when Newman signalled – signalled that he was turning out into the fast lane ahead of the oncoming Mercedes. The snowplough emerged from the slip road like some monstrous robot, moving straight into the path of the slow lane. Newman rammed his foot down, swinging to his left. The Mercedes began sounding its own horn. He ignored it. 'Hang on!' he warned Nancy. 'Oh, Christ!' she muttered. The snowplough was almost on top of them. Like a guillotine the massive steel blade descended. Nancy saw it coming down. She froze with horror. It was going to slice them in two. The Citroen was now moving at manic speed, way above the limit. The blade flashed past Nancy's window, missed hitting the Citroen by inches. She flinched. The Mercedes jammed on its brakes to avoid the coming collision. In the fast lane Newman accelerated. The scooter passed the Mercedes, still speeding in the slow lane, weaving past the now stationary snowplough.
Behind the wheel of the Mercedes Hugo Munz swore foully to his passenger, Emil Graf. He reduced speed, checking in his mirror for any sign of a police patrol car. The motorway was still deserted.
`You should have hit him,' said Graf.
`You're crazy! I could have bounced off, hit the steel barrier and we both end up dead. That scooter warned him…'
`So,' Graf replied in his toneless voice, 'he's better organized than we gave him credit for. We'll have to try something else.
Fourteen
Blanche Signer sat waiting at a corner table in the bar of the Bellevue Palace while Newman fetched the drinks. She had paid a brief visit to the cloakroom to comb her titian hair, to get her centre parting straight, to freshen up generally for the Englishman after her dangerous ride back along the motorway on the scooter.
Thirty years old, the daughter of a colonel in the Swiss Army, she ran the most efficient service for tracing missing persons in western Europe. She was the girl who had secretly helped Newman to trace Kruger when the German had gone underground. She was determined to take Newman away from Nancy Kennedy.
`A double Scotch,' Newman said as he placed the glass before her and sat down alongside her on the banquette. There was not a lot of space and his legs touched hers. 'You've earned this. Cheers!'
`You know, Blanche,' he went on after swallowing half his drink, 'you took one hell of a risk back there on the motorway. I was scared stiff for you…'
`That's nice of you, Bob. Any risk of Nancy finding us here?'
`She's taking a bath. If she walks in you tried to pick me up. I think we have half an hour. What happened?'
I waited at the Savoy as arranged. Lee Foley did follow you to the Clinic, then drove on past the turn-off and went on higher up the hill. I suspect he was doing what I did – checking out the layout of that place. It's peculiar. I've got a host of photos for you…' She squeezed her handbag. 'The film is in here. I can get it developed and printed overnight.
I know someone who will do that for me. I'll get them to you tomorrow somehow…'
`Leave them in a sealed envelope addressed to me with the concierge. Now, what did happen? You probably saved my life.'
`It was simple, really, Bob. I took the photos, got on the scooter and started back to a place where I could wait to pick up Foley if he followed you back. I saw this car leaving the Clinic and decided to follow that. Pure hunch. The driver, a nasty-looking piece of work, knew what he was doing. He drove to where a snowplough was clearing a slip road. He got out, walked up to the snowplough operator and pointed something in his face. I'm sure it was a hair spray. The man grabbed for his eyes and Nasty hit him. It was pretty brutal. The poor devil's head came into contact with a steel bar – my guess is his skull is cracked. The driver from the clinic then put on the snowplough man's overalls and guided the machine down to the end of the slip road – just before it turns on to the motorway.'
`Waiting for me,' Newman commented. 'It was a fair assumption that when we left the Clinic I'd drive back the way I came from Berne. I blundered. I thought someone inside that place was at risk. Instead they decided to wipe me out first. But they have blundered too. Now I know something is wrong with that place. I'm not sure you ought to help me any more on this one..
`Bob…' She took his hand and squeezed it affectionately. `We make a good team. We did before. Remember. You don't get rid of me as easily as that. When are you coming to see me at my apartment? It's only a five-minute walk from here along the Munstergasse and into the Junkerngasse..
`I'm involved with Nancy..
`Officially?' she pressed.
`Well, no, not yet…'
`So you come and see me…'
`You're blackmailing my emotions…'
`And I'll go on doing it,' she assured him in her soft, appealing voice.
He studied her while he finished his drink. Her blue eyes stared back at him steadily. She had beautiful bone structure, Newman reflected. A lot of character – you could see that in her chin and high cheekbones. To say nothing of her figure which was something to knock any man out.
`What do I do next for you?' she asked.
`Go home. Relax…' He saw the look in her eyes. 'Oh, hell, Blanche, all right. You still go home and rest. Get some warmer clothes and maintain the watch on Lee Foley.' He leaned forward and grasped her upper arm. 'But you be very careful. Foley is dangerous.'
`I can handle him Incidentally, when he's lying low at the Savoy he eats at a Hungarian place a few doors down the Neuengasse. The street is arcaded – so I can keep under cover. And it's perfect for parking the scooter. Anything else?'
She made it sound so everyday, Newman marvelled. Blanche was always very cool. She watched him over the rim of her glass; she couldn't take her eyes off him.
`There might be something else,' he decided. 'You've built up that register of people with unusual occupations. Check it and see if you have anything on a Manfred Seidler…'
`Will do. Maybe I'd better go before your pseudo-fiancee turns up. If I get something on this Seidler I'll type out a report and include it in the envelope with the photos. I'll head it MS. If there's an emergency I'll call your room number, let the phone ring three times, then disconnect. You call me back when you can. OK, Mr Newman?'
`OK, Miss Signer…'
She leaned forward, kissed him full on the mouth, stood up and walked away, her handbag looped over her shoulder. The bar at the Bellevue Palace is dimly lit, very much like many American bars. But as she walked erectly across the room men's heads turned to watch her. She stared straight ahead, apparently unaware of the impression she was creating. At the exit she passed Nancy Kennedy who was just entering.
Newman had moved Blanche's lipsticked glass on to the next table as she left. He stood up to greet Nancy. As she came closer he saw by her expression that something had disturbed her.
`That man phoned again,' she said as she sat down on the banquette. 'The same one I took the call from in Geneva. Seidler? Wasn't that his name? I told him you'd be back much later in the evening. He sounded very agitated. He put the phone down on me when I tried to get a message.'
`That's my strategy now, Nancy. Agitation. All round. By the time I talk to him he'll be going up the wall, which will make him more pliable. Same thing with the Berne Clinic. Agitation. Although there,' he said ruefully, 'it seems to have acted with a vengeance. They tried to kill us on that motorway…'
`Us?'
`You as well as me is my guess.' Newman's manner was forbidding. 'I'm giving it to you straight so you'll take care. You make no trips to Thun without me. Now, in the car you mentioned something missing from Jesse's room. What was it?'
`You have a good memory…'
`It's my main asset. Answer the bloody question.'
`You are in a mood. Something to tell the time by. No clock on his bedside table. No wristwatch. Jesse has no way of keeping track of the time. It's a disorientation technique. I know that from my psychiatric studies.'
`Trick-cyclists drive me round the bend…'
`You're hostile to everything medical,' she flared. 'When we were at the Clinic I saw you wrinkling your nose at the smell. They do have to keep those places hygienic. To do that they use disinfectant…'
`OK,' he said irritably. 'No clock. I've got the point. I agree it's odd.'
`And Novak told the truth when he said they used sodium amytal to sedate Jesse.' She reached into her handbag, produced a blue capsule from a zipped pocket and handed it to him. 'You can't see in here but it's a sixty-milligramme dose coded F23. Jesse slipped it to me while you were talking to Novak. That's why Jesse was still awake.'
`Maybe I'm dim, but I don't follow what you've just said.'
`Jesse has become expert at palming a capsule when he's given one to swallow. He pretends to swallow it and hides it in the palm of his hand.'
`How does he get rid of it?'
`He drops it inside that metal grille where they've hidden the tape recorder…'
`That's a laugh,' Newman commented. 'It's also clever. It doesn't suggest a sick man who's lost most of his marbles. And one absent thing I did notice. There wasn't a single mention of the fact that Jesse is supposed to be suffering from leukaemia.'
`Soon you'll be as good as me,' she said smugly. Then her expression drooped. 'But they are sedating him heavily. He showed me the fleshy part of his arm – it's riddled with punctures. The sods are pumping him full of the stuff with a hypodermic. We were just lucky it was capsule day. Can't you find out what's really going on when you meet Novak in Thun on Thursday night?'
`I intend to. If he turns up. He's getting very shaky about the situation there, so let's hope Kobler and Co. don't notice. I want you to stay inside this hotel the whole time I'm away at Thun. If you get any calls saying I've had an accident, ignore them. Anything that tempts you out of the Bellevue. You'll do that, won't you?'
`You have changed. You're getting very bossy…'
`I'm not asking you. I'm telling you.' His tone was bleak. 'I can no longer keep wondering what you're doing, looking over my shoulder.'
`You could ask me more nicely…'
She broke off as a waiter came to their table. He handed to Newman a folded sheet of paper. Inside was a sealed envelope. Taking the envelope, Newman looked at the waiter.
`Who gave you this?'
`A rather shabbily dressed individual, sir. He pointed you out and said would I be sure to hand this to you personally. I have never seen him before.'
`Thanks…'
Newman tore open the envelope and extracted a second, smaller sheet of folded paper which bore no clue as to its origins. The message was brief.
Can you come to see me at seven o'clock this evening. A crisis situation. Beck.
Newman checked his watch. 6.15 pm. He put the folded sheet back inside the envelope and slipped the envelope inside his wallet. Nancy stirred restlessly.
`What is it?'
`Things are hotting up. I hav
e to go out. Expect me when you see me. If you're hungry start dinner without me. Choose whichever restaurant you fancy.'
`Is that all?'
`Yes. It is. Remember – stay inside this hotel…'
As he walked through the night Berne was deserted. The workers had gone home, the bright sparks hadn't come in for an evening on the town yet. He crossed over by the Casino and walked into the right-hand arcade of the Munstergasse, an arched stone tunnel with a paved walk, shop windows lit up and closed.
Newman wondered why he had been so abrupt with Nancy. A man has a habit of comparing one woman with another. Had the fact that he had been talking with Blanche so amiably before Nancy arrived influenced his attitude? Not a pleasant conclusion. But Beck's summons had decided him. With half his mind he heard the footsteps behind which synchronized with his own. He crossed the lonely street into the opposite arcade without looking back.
Yes, he had made up his mind. Before he saw Beck he was going to see Blanche – to tell her she was out of the whole business. Crisis was the word Beck had used. Beck didn't use words like that lightly. He was going to pull Blanche out of the firing line.
The footsteps synchronized with his own, the click-clack of a second pair of feet on the stones had followed him across the street. They were now following him down the same arcade. He didn't look back. It was an old trick – to mask your own footfall by pacing it with the man you were following.
He was nearly half-way towards the Munsterplatz when he passed a narrow alley leading through to the street beyond. The Finstergasschen. A spooky alley with only a single lamp which emphasized the shadows of the narrow walk. He continued towards the Munster, his right hand stiffened for a chopping blow.
`Newman! Come back here! Quick…!'
A hoarse, whispering call. He swung round on his heel. Two figures were struggling at the entrance to the Finstergasschen. One tall, heavily-built, wearing a cap. The second much smaller. He walked back quickly as they vanished inside the alley, slowed down near its entrance, peered round the corner.