Terminal (39 page)

For the first time a bleak smile appeared on Seidler's cadaverous face. He sat down gingerly on the arm of a large chair as though it might blow up under him. He gulped down some of his coffee, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

'You've heard of the honey-traps the Russian secret police use? They get a girl to compromise someone, take photos...'

I know all about honey-traps. I told you to keep to the point! Any moment now this house may become one of the most dangerous places in Switzerland...'

'This honey-trap worked in reverse. By pure chance. The brilliant Czech they use to operate the computer for stock control at the depot met an Austrian girl on holiday while he was in Prague. He's crazy over her. She's waiting for him in Munich — waiting for him to get out. For that you need money, a lot of it. I provided that money. He provided the gas masks and fiddled the computer...'

'Why does Grange want this supply of Soviet gas masks?'

'To defend Switzerland, of course — and to make another fortune. Seventy per cent of the Swiss population have atom- bunkers they can go to in case of nuclear war. Imagine how many gas masks it would take to equip the same number of people to protect them against Soviet chemical warfare.'

But why have them delivered to the Berne Clinic? The place isn't a factory. I still don't get it...'

'He tests the gas masks there...'

'He does what!'

'Bob,' Nancy interrupted, 'do we have to talk to him here? There's something about this place I don't like …'

The wind had started to rise in the Juras. The timbers of the ancient house began to creak and groan. The place seemed to
tremble
like a ship in a choppy sea. Newman guessed it was the low temperature — the wood was contracting. During their brief drive from Le Pont he had noticed in the glare of the headlights places on the verge of the road where the snow had melted. The sun must have shone down on the Vallee de Joux; hence the criss-cross of ski-tracks on the slopes. It was the extreme change in temperature which was affecting the old building — plus the onset of the wind.

`We have to talk here,' he said rapidly in English, hoping Seidler would miss his meaning. 'I told you, I think we have very little time. God knows what's waiting for us outside when we do leave...'

`Thank you. You are
so
reassuring...'

Newman's callousness was deliberate. He was preparing Nancy psychologically for the dash to the French frontier. He continued questioning Seidler.

`How does Grange test the gas masks?'

`He started using animals. I once saw an obscene sight — a chimpanzee escaped. It was wearing a gas mask, clawing at it to try and get it off its head...'

`And then?'

`He decided he had to progress to testing the masks on human beings. He uses the patients — they're terminal, anyway. I arrived late in the Lear jet from Vienna a few weeks ago with the previous consignment. A cock-up at Schwechat Airport outside Vienna. The driver of the van waiting for me at Belp was ill — food-poisoning, he said. I had to take over the wheel and drive to the Clinic well after dark. I saw a woman — one of the patients she must have been — running in the grounds wearing a gas mask and a bathrobe. She was trying to tear off the mask while she ran. They were firing canisters from something at her — the canisters burst in front of her...'

`So where do they get the gas from?' Newman demanded.

`How the hell do I know? I certainly never brought any gas out of Czechoslovakia. Luckily they didn't see the van — so I turned it round and arrived at the Clinic later. The Swiss Army is guarding that place...'

`How do you know that?'

`I've caught glimpses of men in Swiss uniform — inside that gatehouse and patrolling the grounds at a distance. We're in real trouble, Newman, the worst kind...'

`What goes on inside that laboratory — and inside the
atombunker
?'

`No idea. I've never been there...'

`I'm still not convinced. Give me your full name...' `Gustav Manfred Seidler...'

`And you brought these gas masks on the orders of Dr Bruno Kobler of the Berne Clinic?'

`I told you that. Yes. He takes his orders from Grange...' `Seidler, why did you do this?'

Tor money, a lot of money. One other thing, I have a girl-friend in...'

`That's enough!' Newman rapped out.

He walked over to a large arm-chair which stood with its tall back to Seidler who suddenly frowned and crossed the room to stare at the miniature tape-recorder Newman had placed there and turned on during Seidler's brief absence when they first arrived. The German grabbed for it but Newman grasped his arm and shoved him away. Seidler's expression was livid.

`You bastard!' Seidler exploded.

`Part of any self-respecting newspaper man's equipment,' Newman lied as he pressed a button and ran the tape to the end. 'Some take notes, but I thought that might inhibit you...'

`So that was what you bought today in that shop in the Marktgasse,' Nancy commented as she peered over the back of the armchair.

`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?'