Terminal (17 page)

`It might have been better to make an appointment,' she said.

`Now I've seen the set-up I think not. This place smells very peculiar. While I was talking to Lanky I saw another man peer through that open doorway, a man wearing a uniform which looked very much like the Swiss Army...'

Bob, that's crazy! You must have been mistaken...'

`I'm only telling you what I saw. The whole goddamned place is laid out like a military encampment. Surprise, surprise — here comes Lanky, looking even more sour than before...'

`You may go up to the Clinic. Someone will meet you there...'

The lean man spoke curtly, then walked away before there was time for a reply. Newman guessed that someone inside the gatehouse had pressed a button — the double gates opened inward automatically. Remembering the dogs, he closed his window before he drove forward and up the long curving drive to the distant building. No sign of a Doberman. They had been locked inside the gatehouse until the Citroen was clear.

He drove slowly, taking in the wintry landscape, and realized the grounds were even more vast than he had first thought. The wire fence at the front ran away across the white world, disappearing down a dip in the hillside. As he approached the Clinic the whole place seemed deserted. He could now see the verandah was glassed in and six steps led up to the entrance door.

Parking the car facing the exit drive, he locked it when Nancy had alighted and they went up the steps together. Grasping the handle of the door, he opened it and they went inside on to the verandah. It stretched away in both directions, the floor tiled and spotless, a few pots with plants at intervals. The inner door led into a large tiled lobby. The smell of antiseptic hit Newman and he wrinkled his nostrils. Nancy noticed his reaction and her lips tightened.

At the back of the large lobby was a heavy, highly-polished wooden counter and behind this, sitting on a high stool with an adjustable back, was a large, fat middle-aged woman, dark hair tied at the back in a bun and with small, darting eyes. She put down the pencil she had been writing with on a printed form, clasped her pudgy hands and stared at them.

`You know who we are,' Newman said in German, 'and I want to see the man in charge of this place..'

`Please to fill in the forms,' she replied in English, her tone of voice flat as she pushed a pad across the counter.

`Maybe, after I've seen your superior. We've come to see Jesse Kennedy. You know that already from the lackey on the gate...'

`I am very much afraid that without an appointment that will not be possible...' The man who had appeared from a side door spoke quietly but firmly in excellent English. Something in the tone of voice made Newman turn quickly to study the speaker. He had an impression of authority, supreme self-confidence, a human dynamo. 'We have to consider the patient,' the voice continued. 'I also should tell you that at the moment Mr Kennedy is under sedation.'

A man almost his own height, Newman estimated. More heavily-built. A man of about forty with dark brown hair streaked with grey shafts. The eyes stared at Newman and expressed force of character. Eyes which assessed his visitor, weighing up a possible opponent. A very self-controlled, formidable man.

`I am Dr Bruno Kobler,' he added.

`And I am
Dr
Nancy Kennedy,' Nancy interjected. 'The fact that my grandfather is sedated makes no difference. I wish to see him immediately.'

`Without a doctor in attendance that would be irregular...'

`You're a doctor,' Newman snapped. 'You just told us...'

`I am the chief administrator. I have no medical qualification.'

`You're telling us,' Newman persisted, 'that at this moment you have no medical practitioner available on the premises? Is that the way you run this clinic?'

`I didn't say that.' There was an edge to Kobler's voice. 'I indicated no one was available to accompany you...'

`Then we'll drive straight back to the American Embassy,'

Newman decided. 'Dr Kennedy is an American citizen. So is Jesse Kennedy. Kobler, we're going to raise hell...'

`There is no need to get excited. Bearing in mind that your companion is a doctor, I think we might make an exception. We may be able to call on Dr Novak — he is the physician in charge of Jesse Kennedy …'

He turned to the woman behind the counter and clicked his fingers as though summoning a waiter. 'See if you can locate Dr Novak, Astrid. Ask him to come here at once.'

`How is my grandfather?' Nancy enquired.

Kobler turned to her, spread his hands and gave her his whole attention, staring straight into her eyes. His manner became conciliatory but for at least half a minute he delayed his reply. She had the impression he was looking inside her.

She remained silent, sensing he was hoping to make her say more.

`I am afraid I cannot answer your question, Dr Kennedy. Unlike yourself, I am not a medical doctor. My job is to administer the Clinic. I would prefer that you ask Dr Novak. I think you will find him sympathetic. You see, he is one of your countrymen.'

`Dr Novak is an American?'

`Indeed he is. A very clever man, which is why he was asked to come here. The Clinic, as you doubtless know, has a world-wide reputation...'

`I'd also like to see Professor Armand Grange.'

Kobler shook his head regretfully. 'That, I regret to say, will not be possible. He only sees visitors strictly by appointment.'

`He's on the premises at this moment?' Nancy demanded. `I really have no idea...'

Kobler glanced over his shoulder, his attention caught by the sound of the front door opening. Newman had stepped out on to the verandah. Closing the door he walked along to his left past chairs of basketwork with cushions; presumably when the weather was good patients sat here. It was very quiet, the central heating was turned up so the enclosed corridor had the atmosphere of a hothouse.

Alongside the inner wall he passed windows at intervals, all of them with frosted glass so he could not see into the rooms beyond. At the end of the corridor he tried the door on the inner wall and found it locked. He stood gazing across the ground to the east. In a bowl stood a modern complex of single-storey buildings with tall, slim windows. The place reminded him of a chemical laboratory. A covered way, windowless, extended from the direction of the Clinic to the complex. He returned to the reception hall as Nancy was being introduced by Kobler to a tall, fair-haired man in his early thirties. He wore a white coat and a stethoscope dangled from his left hand. Kobler turned to Newman.

`This is Dr Novak, Mr Newman. I expect you will not mind sitting in the waiting room while Dr Kennedy sees her...'

`Bob is coming with me,' Nancy interrupted brusquely. `He's my fiancé...'

Novak glanced at Kobler, as though waiting for his reaction. Kobler bent his head towards Nancy and smiled. 'Who am I to dispute the wishes of a beautiful woman? Of course Mr Newman may accompany you.'

`Waldo Novak,' the American said and held out his hand to shake Newman's. 'I've heard a lot about you. The Kruger case man. Boy, did you do a job in Germany.

`Just a story.' Newman turned to Kobler as he shook hands with Novak. 'Why the Dobermans?' he asked abruptly. 'Plus uniformed guards and the fence. This place is like Dartmoor.'

Kobler's head, turned to one side, swivelled to Newman and his smile remained fixed. Again he took his time about replying while he studied Newman. Like Nancy, Newman said nothing, gazing back at Kobler.

`Vandals,' Kobler replied eventually. 'Even in Switzerland we have young people who have too much energy, too little respect for private property. One of my duties is to ensure that the patients endure no disturbance from the outside world. And now, if you will excuse me, I will leave you in Dr Novak's capable hands.' He spoke to Novak in a brief aside. have explained the patient is under sedation. Goodbye, Mr Newman. I'm sure we shall meet again...'

`You can count on it.'

`Dr Kennedy.. Kobler bowed and left them, disappearing behind the side door he had used earlier. Newman heard the click of an automatic lock. Novak produced a computer card and ushered Nancy towards a door at the rear of the reception hall. He inserted the card in a slot and the door slid open. Newman estimated it was one-inch thick steel. The door closed behind them as the fat woman, Astrid, brought up the rear.

`You speak German fluently, Mr Newman?' Astrid enquired in a thick, throaty voice.

`No, I don't,' he lied. 'When they start to talk fast I lose it...'

He left it at that as he followed Nancy and Novak along a wide corridor which was spotless and deserted. They passed closed doors with porthole windows. Again the glass was frosted so it was impossible to see inside. He noticed that near the end of the corridor the smooth surface began to slope downwards, then vanished round a corner. The same smell of disinfectant he associated with hospitals and so disliked pervaded the place. Novak stopped outside a door in the right-hand wall, another door with a frosted glass porthole. He had extracted another computer card from his coat pocket.

`Dr Kennedy,' he said, 'you're accustomed to seeing patients, of course. But in my experience it's different when the patient is a relative. He won't be able to talk with you...'

'I understand.'

Inserting the card inside the slot, Novak waited while the door slid open and gestured for them to walk inside. Newman followed Nancy who stopped suddenly as Novak and Astrid joined them and the door slid shut. He took her by the arm.

`Easy does it, old girl..

`It's not that,' she whispered. 'He's
awake
!'

In a single bed centred with its head against the far wall lay a gaunt-faced man with a hooked nose, wispy white hair, a high forehead, a firm mouth and a prominent jaw. His complexion was ruddy. For a brief moment his eyes had flickered open as Nancy walked in, then closed again like a shutter closing over a lens. Newman doubted whether either Novak or Astrid had seen the eyes open — they had been masked by his own bulk.

`You see,' Novak said gently, 'he sleeps well. He is a very strong man, a tough constitution. I was going to add, for his age — but he's one of nature's survivors..

`You think he will survive then?' Nancy asked quietly.

`He is very sick man,' Astrid broke in. 'Very, very sick man.'

Newman stood back from the rest of them, hands in his pockets as he watched. He had the distinct impression Novak was glad to see the two visitors. Glad? No, relieved. And not because one of his own kind — Nancy — had arrived. Astrid stood with tight lips and looked at her watch.

`Five minutes. Your visit. No more...'

Newman turned on her, raising his voice. 'Dr Novak, I want this woman out of the room. Who the hell is she to dictate the length of our stay? You're in charge of Jesse Kennedy's case — Dr Kobler said so in front of me. Kindly assert your authority.'

`You will see that the visit is five minutes and not one second more...' Astrid was speaking German like a machine-gun. 'I will report this outrage to Professor Grange unless you do as I say...'

`Tell her to fuck off,' Newman snapped. 'Or has this fat old bag got you by the short and curlies? Novak! Are you — or are you not — the physician in charge here?'

Waldo Novak flushed. He spoke to Astrid over his shoulder, also in rapid German. 'I suspect that the last thing Grange would be pleased to hear is that you were responsible for a scene. If these people storm out of the Clinic have you any idea of the potential consequences? Newman is a foreign correspondent of international repute, for God's sake. Kindly leave us alone...'

She was mouthing protests as he extracted the computer card key and inserted it in the slot. The door slid open. She bit her lip and shuffled out into the corridor. The closing door shut out her enraged face. Novak looked at Newman and Nancy apologetically.

`Every institution has one of them. The faithful servant who is tolerated because she has been on the staff since the dinosaurs.'

`She's a bit of an old dinosaur herself,' Nancy commented.

She had her handbag open and was using a handkerchief to dab at her eyes. Newman noticed that Jesse's gnarled hand was now lying outside the sheet. When they had entered it had been underneath. His eyes were still closed. Nancy pulled up a chair close to the bed, sat down and took his hand in hers.

`He doesn't know you're here,' Novak told her.