by Colin Forbes
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.
Thirty
Saturday, 18 February. Newman himself used Room Service to order breakfast the complete works. He did this from sympathy with Nancy's ordeal the previous day; also because he wanted to talk in privacy. And this was Confrontation Day.
Nancy climbed out of bed and pulled back the curtains. She stared at the view, slipping on her dressing-gown. Standing there, she crossed her arms, deep in thought as he came up behind her and grasped her round the waist.
`Look at it, Bob. Not a good omen?'
The mist had returned, a sea of dirty cotton wool, blotting out the Bantiger and rolling slowly along the straight stretch of the Aare to envelop the city. Soon it would be drifting into the arcades, creating an eerie silence.
`Come and have breakfast, an American breakfast,' Newman said, pulling her away from the window. 'Bacon, eggs, croissants, rolls – the lot. How did you sleep?' he asked as they faced each other across the table.
`I didn't – but I'm ravenous…'
`You ate nothing last night. What especially kept you awake?'
`Your conversation with Seidler inside that house. You translated some of it – but considerately not all. What you didn't realize was I know German rather well. It was my second language at high school. Then, a few weeks before I left St Thomas's – when we first met at Bewick's – I'd come back from Germany where I spent time with a German medical family. Do you really think they're using patients at the Clinic to test those gas masks, Bob?'
`I'm convinced we still don't know the whole story. I'm not sure Grange's ultimate purpose ends with the testing of those Soviet masks.' He continued quickly. 'Let's not talk about it until I've seen Grange, had a chance to weigh him up. Maybe we ought to take Jesse out of that place today. We could drive there immediately after breakfast if you agree…'
I don't think it will do any good. Jesse will refuse – and without his consent we've no authority to force the issue. I want to talk to Grange myself first. And I'm sure Grange will play it cool until the reception is over…'
`It's your decision. I'm not too happy about it,' Newman said and drank more coffee. 'You seem very confident about this reception. You wouldn't know something you haven't told me?'
`And what might that be, I'd like to know? You always want to do things your way,' she bridled.
`You're tired. Forget it!'
Tweed was on the warpath. After an early breakfast in the dining-room – he couldn't be fussed with Room Service – he left the hotel without delay to keep his appointment with Arthur Beck. He walked into the main entrance of the Taubenhalde, placed his passport on the receptionist's counter. At that moment Beck emerged from the lift.
`Let's go straight up,' he invited Tweed. 'Don't fill in a form…'
Anyone who knew Tweed well would have recognized the danger signs. There was an intent expression in the eyes behind his spectacles. He crossed the hall to the lift with a brisk stride and the look on his face was forbidding as he stared at Beck.
They travelled up to the tenth floor in silence, Beck unlocked the door with his key. In the hall beyond he took out a card and inserted it in the time clock before opening the door to his office. Tweed took off his coat and sat facing Beck across his desk.
`Welcome to Berne once more,' Beck began.
`I hope you will still think me welcome when we have ended this conversation,' Tweed warned. 'I have come here because we are very worried about the Berne Clinic – and the experiments which are being carried out there, possibly under military supervision…'
`I don't like your tone,' Beck replied stiffly.
I don't like the reason for my visit…'
`You are talking nonsense. Where have you picked up this nonsense about a Swiss clinic?'
`From various sources.' Tweed dropped his bomb. 'We know about Manfred Seidler. We have in London one of the gas masks he has supplied to the Berne Clinic. Our Ministry of Defence experts have examined it and confirmed it is the sophisticated type now issued to the Soviet chemical battalions…'
Beck stood up, his expression frozen. He stood behind the desk, his hands thrust inside his jacket pockets, studying his visitor who gazed back at him.
`Just supposing I found there was even one iota of truth in this extraordinary story, how would it concern you?'
`It concerns the President of the United States, the Prime Minister of Britain – both of whom are fighting to conclude a new treaty with Moscow, a treaty effectively banning the use of chemical warfare in Europe. You read the papers, don't you? Can you imagine the propaganda advantage Moscow would have if they could point to one single country in Western Europe – a country outside NATO at that – which was equipping its forces with chemical warfare units? It would give them just the excuse they need to continue building up their own resources in this diabolical field. That, Beck, is why I am here. That is why it concerns London. That is why I take such an interest in the Berne Clinic.'
`Quite a speech,' Beck commented. He sat down again. 'I take your point. May we speak in confidence? Good. Manfred Seidler was murdered last night in the Juras…'
>
`My God! He was a vital witness…'
`Agreed. It doesn't make my job any easier, Tweed. Can I ask you how you know so much?'
`An associate of Seidler's sold one of the gas masks from the latest consignment to someone at the British Embassy. Our agent followed Seidler to the airport outside Vienna -and saw him board a Swiss jet. I alerted our people here to watch your airports. We had a piece of luck at Belp. My man saw the consignment from Vienna being taken away in a van – that van carried the legend Klinik Bern on the outside. The van proceeded in the direction of the Clinic after leaving the airport at Belp.
`You have been very busy in our country.' Beck smiled, a smile of resignation. 'Under other circumstances I might be angry.' He pressed the switch on his intercom. 'Gisela, coffee for two, please. Black without sugar for my guest… just a moment.' He looked at his visitor. 'A little cognac in your coffee?'
`Not at this hour, thank you.'
`That is all, Gisela.' He switched off. 'Anything else you know, my friend?'
`We know,' Tweed continued in the same flat tone, 'you are under great pressure to drop your investigation – pressure from the Gold Club. I come here to help you resist the pressure at all costs. You are at full liberty to disclose what I have said – what I am going to say. As a last resort – I emphasize that – we might feel compelled to leak the news of what we believe is going on at the Berne Clinic…'
`To some foreign correspondent like Robert Newman?' Tweed looked surprised. 'He is investigating the same subject?'
`I don't know,' Beck admitted. 'He is here with his fiancee, an American. Her grandfather is a patient in the Clinic.'
`May I suggest how we should proceed?' Tweed requested with a hint of urgency.
`I am open to any suggestion. You seem to have established a network inside Switzerland. You may know more than me.'
`We put the Berne Clinic under total surveillance – round the clock. Specifically, smuggle a film unit into the area, choosing a strategic position where you can survey and photograph not only the Clinic but also the laboratory and their very extensive grounds. There is a dense forest behind the Clinic on high ground…'
