by Colin Forbes
`I want you to find somewhere to hide this, Nancy…'
Newman had extracted the small tape and he handed her the machine. He next took the gas mask Seidler had left on a table and placed it on the working top in the kitchen under the glare of the spotlights which illuminated the galley. Standing back a few feet, he took from his pocket Nagy's small Voigtlander Vitoret 110 camera and attached one of the flash-bulbs he had purchased from the same shop. He took four pictures of the mask with flashes and then excused himself, asking Seidler to guide him to the lavatory.
`Through that door where I went when we arrived,' Seidler told him sullenly. 'You'll find it on your right when you get inside…'
Hidden in the lavatory, Newman pulled up his trouser legs and concealed the miniature tape inside the thick sock on his left foot. The film from the camera he shoved down inside his other sock. When he came out Seidler was putting the gas mask into one of the suitcases and-snapping the catches shut.
I'll keep this if you don't mind…'
`It's your property. Why the sudden desire for cleanliness, Nancy? We've got to get out of here fast before something unfortunate happens.'
She was crouched by the huge open fireplace filled with logs, using a dustpan and brush to sweep up the hearth. She stood up, put the pan and brush back inside a cupboard and rubbed her hands clean of dust.
`You wanted the tape-recorder hidden. It's underneath the logs,' she snapped.
`That's a good place. Thanks, Nancy.' Newman turned towards Seidler. 'You were saying something about a girlfriend – I didn't think you'd want her details on record…' am grateful…' Seidler swallowed and showed signs of emotion. If anything happens to me I would like her to know. She had nothing to do with Terminal. Will you take down her address and phone number? Erika Stahel…'
Newman wrote the details in his notebook with a wooden expression as though he had never heard of her. He went on writing and then froze for a second at Seidler's next words.
`She works for Dr Max Nagel, the big Basle banker. Nagel is the only man powerful enough to oppose Grange. He has just left Basle for Berne to attend some medical reception at the Bellevue Palace..
`The reception tomorrow?' Nancy asked sharply.
`I don't know when. Hadn't we better leave this place?'
`Immediately,' responded Newman. 'And prepare yourself for a rough ride. I'm driving like hell along the road to Le Brassus…'
`Why Le Brassus?' Seidler queried, picking up the suitcase containing the gas mask.
`Because we want to avoid Le Pont – after what happened at the station. God knows what could be waiting for us there.'
Nancy had washed up the pan, their mugs and replaced them where she had found them. She was carrying the opened jar of coffee which she said ought to be taken away. No trace of their visit remained when Seidler, still nervy and anxious to leave, opened the front door. There was a score of questions Newman would have liked to ask him but the priority was to move, to get over the border into France. Newman held the front door key Seidler had handed him. The first shot was fired as Newman locked the door while Seidler and Nancy were heading for the Citroen parked under the trees. In the cold silence of the night the report was a loud Crack!
`Run!' Newman yelled. 'Crouch down! Get into the car for Christ's sake!'
The second shot – Newman now realized it was a rifle – was fired in rapid succession. Stumbling down the icy steps, holding the second suitcase Seidler had left behind in his left hand, Newman saw the case Seidler had taken jerk out of his hand. The shot had passed through the case. Seidler picked it up and continued his shambling trot towards the car which Nancy had already reached, unlocked and opened the doors.
A third shot was fired, a fourth – neither came anywhere near them. That was when Newman realized there was a second rifleman – firing at the first. The night reverberated with a fusillade of shots.
The wind blew and there was a strange weather phenomenon Newman had never seen before. A wave of snow dust, as fine as salt particles, cruised a foot high across the lower slopes, swirling round his ankles as he reached the car. Seidler had dived into the rear seat, Nancy was in the front passenger seat. She had inserted one of the keys Newman had given her on their arrival while he studied the old house, in the ignition. He slid in behind the wheel, slammed the door, drove out from under the trees and a rifle shot grazed the bonnet.
`Oh, Jesus!' said Nancy. `What's happening?'
`It's weird – there are two of them. One firing at us, the other firing at the first marksman. Christ, how many people know we're up here?'
The sound of the shots faded as he drove as fast as he dare. In their headlights the road was gleaming like a skating rink. He passed through the main street of L'Abbaye and the village seemed deserted. Now for Le Brassus – and the French border. That was when he heard again the sound of the chopper coming closer.
Le Brassus VD – the road sign said – was a village of ancient villas, stark trees and gardens fronted with beech hedges half-buried under a coating of snow. Again deserted. They had left the lake behind. Newman pulled out of a skid and drove on.
`The second case I threw in the back,' he called out. 'It contains what, Seidler?'
`Old newspapers. Where are you taking me?'
`To safety. The French frontier is just ahead. If I have to, I'll crash the border to get through…'
`We're leaving Switzerland?' Nancy asked.
`You'll be safer in France, so will Seidler. And I may be able to operate more freely outside Switzerland. I plan to phone Beck, tell him we have Seidler's evidence, see if he'll raid the Berne Clinic…'
The sign came up in their headlights. Zoll – Douane. 2 km. They were within a couple of kilometres of escape. Newman pressed his foot down, at times gliding over the ice shining threateningly in the beams. He glanced at Nancy and she nodded her approval of the course he was taking. She had been badly shaken by the violence at Le Pont station, by the shooting outside the old house.
`Oh, God! No!' she exclaimed.
Something else was showing up in the headlights and Newman slowed down. The black Audi had been positioned at right-angles, acting as a road-block. To one side a second car, a Saab, was parked on the verge. Uniformed policemen stood waving torches frantically. Newman stopped the car, sagged behind the wheel. They were trapped.
The first sound he heard as he stepped out on to the slippery road was the roar of the chopper's rotors as it landed, a large, dark silhouette, in a nearby field. He told Nancy and Seidler to stay in the car and went to meet the nearest policeman.
`What the devil do you think you're doing?' he asked in French.
`Instructions, sir. Someone is coming..
The policeman gestured towards the field where the chopper had landed. A compact figure came out of the darkness, hatless and wearing an overcoat. Arthur Beck. Of course. The Federal police chief trod his way carefully across the road and peered inside the Citroen.
`You've no reason to stop us,' Newman snapped.
`You were thinking of leaving the country?' Beck enquired. `What concern is it of yours?'
`Every concern, my friend. You are a material witness in my investigation into the deaths of Julius Nagy and Bernard Mason…'
Another man had emerged from the helicopter and was walking towards Beck. A man of medium height, well-built, who walked with a deliberate tread. As he passed in front of the headlights of the Citroen Newman saw he was dressed in the uniform of a colonel in the Swiss Army. Under his peaked cap, beneath his thick eyebrows, motionless eyes stared at Newman. Clean-shaven, he had a strong nose, a thin-lipped mouth and he carried himself with an air of confidence verging on arrogance. Newman recognized him before Beck made his introduction.
`This is Colonel Victor Signer, president of the Zurcher Kredit Bank. He called on me just before I was leaving – he expressed a wish to accompany me. This is Robert Newman…'
No handshake. Signer half-smiled, not pleasantly, dipped
his head in acknowledgement. The blank eyes, still studying Newman, reminded him of films he had seen of sharks, which was fanciful, he told himself. Of one thing he was sure. God had just arrived.
`I hear you have been causing us some trouble, Newman,' Signer remarked.
He spoke through his nose, like a man with adenoids and he looked at the ground as though addressing a subordinate.
`You are speaking personally?' Newman suggested.
`I didn't come here to fence with you…'
`Why did you come here, Signer?'
The eyes snapped up and there was a brief flicker of fury. He would be a bastard to serve under. Autocratic, callous, sarcastic. The original martinet. Newman understood now why Blanche disliked her stepfather so much. The colonel clasped his hands which, despite the cold, were clad in fine suede gloves. A very tough baby, Victor Signer. Beck intervened, as though afraid things were getting out of control.
`Newman, I have to ask you to return with me to Berne – together with your two companions..
Signer walked slowly round the Citroen and peered in at the rear seat. Seidler shrank back from his gaze, clutching his suitcase.
`Not Dr Kennedy,' Newman said firmly. 'You have no grounds for detaining her…'
`She witnessed the death of Mrs Laird. Until that case is resolved I must insist that she remains on Swiss territory.. `You bastard,' Newman whispered.
`And the man in the rear of the car. He wouldn't by chance be Manfred Seidler?' Beck opened the rear door. `Please step out Mr Seidler-we have been searching everywhere for you.'
`Grab his case,' Newman whispered again. 'Don't open it – and don't let Signer get his hands on it..
Seidler emerged shakily from the car, releasing the suitcase Beck reached for without protest. Signer wandered round the Citroen to join them, flexing his gloved hands. Then he stood waiting. He would be about five feet ten tall, Newman guessed, but the controlled force of his personality made him seem taller. This was a man who dealt in millions at his bank.
`I would like to see the contents of that suitcase,' he remarked.
`No! Colonel,' Beck replied. 'I am investigating three potential homicides, two positive ones. Not an hour ago a couple of men arriving at Le Pont station were murdered. This case may well contain evidence. It goes straight to our forensic people unopened. It is not a matter I care to debate…'
`As you wish…'
Signer half-smiled again and walked across to stand in front of the headlight beams of the Saab parked on the verge. He removed his left glove and clenched his hand. Beck, still holding on to the suitcase, gestured for Seidler to follow him. Newman sensed that something was wrong but couldn't immediately put his finger on it. Signer had given up too easily…'
`Seidler! Get away from those headlights!' he shouted.
Following Beck, Seidler was illuminated by the headlamps of the Citroen – illuminated like a target on a firing range at night. There was a loud report and Seidler leapt forward, vaulted clear off the ground and sprawled over the bonnet of the Audi. A second rifle report shattered the night. The sprawled body coughed, a convulsive movement, then flopped back over the bonnet. In the headlights a patch of dampness – blood – began to spread midway down the centre of Seidler's back. The second shot had fractured his spine. He was dead twice over.
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.