Terminal tac-2 Page 12
`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 fiance…'
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.
`What sedative are you using, Dr Novak?' she asked.
He hesitated. 'It's not normal to discuss treatment.. he began and then stopped speaking. Newman noticed he had glanced towards a porthole-shaped mirror let into the side wall. Above it was a coat-hook. Of course! The window in the door was of frosted glass. Every hospital or clinic had some technique for observing seriously ill patients.
I bet that next room is empty, he said to himself. And I bet that corpulent old pig is standing on the other side of that fake mirror. That is what is worrying Novak. He took off his jacket, walked over to the mirror and hung the jacket over it.
`Dr Novak..!' Nancy's tone was sharp-edged.
`Keep your voice down, Nancy,' Newman whispered. 'All the time.'
`I'm a doctor. I'm entitled to know the treatment… `Sodium Amytal,' Novak said promptly. 'He's a very vigorous man and must be kept in bed.'
He looked up over his shoulder at Newman who had rested a hand on the shoulder. Jesse's eyes flickered open, stared straight at Newman and frowned, his head jerked in a brief gesture. Get Novak away from me and Nancy.
`Novak,' said Newman, 'let's leave her with him. He is her grandfather. Come over with me by the window…' He waited until Novak joined him. The window, which presumably looked on the outside world from the daylight showing through, was also frosted. Which was another peculiarity of the Clinic.
What is it?' Novak enquired, his back to the bed.
`You and I have to meet outside. Very fast. You live on the premises?'
`Yes, I do. Why?'
`I guessed as much. This place smells of a closed community – a community locked away from the normal world. I suppose they do let you out,' he continued with a trace of sarcasm.
`During my off-duty hours I do what I like…'
`Don't sound indignant. But so far we haven't exactly felt welcome inside this place. I repeat. I insist on meeting you – so suggest somewhere. Thun would be closest?'
`I suppose it would be.' Novak sounded dubious. `I don't see why I have to meet you anywhere..
`Don't you?' Newman, observing what was happening behind Novak's back, kept talking fast. `You're not compelled to, I agree. But then I could start writing articles about this place – naming you as my informant…'
`For Christ's sake, no…'
`No smart lawyer will get me for libel. I'm an expert at hinting at things and I know just how far I can go. Be honest with yourself, Novak – you're desperate to talk to someone. I sensed it within minutes of meeting you…'
The Hotel Freienhof…' The words tumbled out. `… in Thun on the Freienhofgasse… it overlooks the Inner Aare… a stretch of the river flowing in from the lake… the cheaper restaurant… do you know the place?'
`I'll find it. Tomorrow suit you?'
`Day after tomorrow. Thursday. Seven in the evening. It will be dark then…'
While Newman distracted Novak's attention Nancy had been talking to her grandfather, who suddenly woke up, his eyes fierce and alert. She leaned close to him so they could whisper and he spoke without any trace of being drugged.
`What are they doing to you here, Jesse?'
`It's what they're doing to the others. I never wanted to come to this place. That bastard Dr Chase shot me full of some drug in Tucson after I fell off the horse. I was hustled aboard a Lear jet and flown here.
`What do you mean – what they're doing to the others?'
`The patients. It's got to be stopped. They're carrying out some kind of experiments. I keep my ears open and they talk when they think I'm doped out of my mind. The patients don't survive the experiments. A lot of them are dying anyway – but that's no reason for murdering them…'
`Are you sure, Jesse? How are you feeling?'
`I'm OK. As long as I'm inside here you've got a pipeline into this place. Don't worry about me…'
`I do,' she whispered.
`Nancy.' Newman had left the window and was walking round the bed. 'Maybe it would be better if we came back another day when your grandfather isn't sedated…'
She looked up at him and saw him stop suddenly. Her expression was a mixture of pathos, anxiety and puzzlement. Newman put a finger to his lips to hush both Novak and Nancy. Jesse lay inert in the bed, his eyes closed. Newman bent down close to the head of the bed and listened. No, he had not been mistaken. He had caught the sound of a whirring noise, of machinery working.
Lee Foley had followed Newman at a discreet distance until he rounded a bend on the snowbound hillside in time to see Newman turn off along the narrow road leading to the Berne Clinic. He drove the Porsche straight past the turn-off and continued up the slope towards the fir forest.
As he ascended higher and higher he looked down on the buildings of the Clinic. He continued climbing until he reached the forest where he swung off the road, wheels skidding dangerously, heading for a narrow opening between the towering black firs. Always take the high ground.
Turning the Porsche through a hundred and eighty degrees – ready for a quick departure – he switched off the engine. On the floor of the empty seat behind him lay a pair of powerful binoculars in a leather case. He extracted them from the case, climbed out of the car and stood half-behind the erect trunk of an immensely tall tree.
Lifting the binoculars he adjusted the focus and slowly swept the lenses across the view far below. Within half an hour he had memorized the entire layout of the Clinic, the weird covered tunnel connecting it to the laboratory complex, and the laboratory itself. Then, ignoring the bitter east wind which scoured his craggy face, he settled down to wait, taking a nip of whisky from his hip flask.
Lee Foley was not the only watcher who took an interest in the Berne Clinic that wintry afternoon in mid-February. The rider on the scooter who had – by driving the machine to the limit – kept up with Foley, took a different route.
The scooter proceeded up the hillside to the point where the sign indicated the turn-off to the Clinic. Here it swung right, following the road taken earlier by Newman. Instead of stopping at the gatehouse, it went on past full tilt, so fast that the Dobermans, again released, had no time to reach the gate.
The rider headed towards Thun, then turned off along a side track leading up the far side of the plateau. The surface of the track was diabolical but the rider continued upwards with great skill until, a snow-covered knoll to the left and close to the track obscured the grounds of the Clinic. The rider stopped, perched the machine against a pile of logs and used both hands to remove the helmet.
A cascade of titian hair fell down her back in a waterfall, was caught in the wind and streamed behind her. The girl opened the carrying satchel and took out a camera with a telescopic lens. She strode up the side of the knoll, her black leather pants sheathing her long, agile legs. At the summit she peered over. The entire, huge estate comprising the grounds and the buildings of the Berne Clinic spread out below.
Crouching down, she raised the view-finder to her eyes, scanning the laboratory complex, the igloo-like tunnel linking it to the side of the Clinic, the main building of the Clinic itself. Deftly, she began taking pictures, swivelling the lens, clicking almost continuously.
Inside Jesse Kennedy's room Newman, who had acute hearing, remained stooped as he searched for the source of the continuous whirring sound. Then he saw the metal, louvred grille set low down in the wall. It looked like an air-conditioning grille.
He knelt on the floor, pressing his ear against the louvres. The sound was much louder – a whirring noise with an occasional click at regular intervals. Putting a finger to his lips again to keep them quiet, he stood up. Facing Nancy and Novak, he gestured towards the grille and mouthed the words. Tape recorder.
Walking a few feet away from the grille, he started talking, raising his voice. His manner was aggressive, his target Novak.
`Now listen to me, Dr Novak – and listen well. We're leaving total responsibility for Jesse Kennedy's welfare in the hands of the Berne Clinic. You understand that clearly? Answer me!'
`That has always been the situation,' Novak replied, playing along with Newman. 'Nothing will be changed by your visit – and you can rest assured Mr Kennedy will continue to receive every care and attention…'
`He'd better.' Newman stabbed a finger into Novak's chest. `I don't know whether you're aware of the fact, but in a few days' time a major international medical congress is being held – including a reception at the Bellevue Palace. If anything happened to Jesse I'll shout my head off at that receptio
n. We haven't exactly had the red carpet rolled out for us since we arrived at this place…'
`I do assure you…' Novak began.
`You'd better talk to Kohler and Grange and get their assurances, too. I blew the Kruger case wide open and I'm a man who can make a lot of noise. We're leaving now. Nancy…'
`Dr Novak, we'll be back – and very soon,' Nancy said firmly as Novak produced his key card.
Newman was close to the door when it slid back and he was looking beyond it.. Two men in white coats walked past the opening, pushing a long trolley. Something lay on the trolley, something covered with a sheet which protruded upwards at the rear end – at the end where a patient's head would be. The silhouette was very large and shaped like a cage. From underneath the sheet a hand projected, a hand which moved in a grasping movement.
`Excuse me…'
Newman pushed in front of Nancy and Novak and turned right, away from the exit. The man behind the trolley glanced over his shoulder and the trolley began to move faster on its well-oiled wheels. Newman quickened his pace. As he had passed the door leading into the room with the mirror in the wall the door opened and behind him he heard Astrid call out. He ignored her and quickened his pace further. The two men with the trolley were almost running and had reached the point where the corridor became a downward sloping ramp. The trolley increased its momentum and Newman started running.
Reaching the corner where the corridor curved he saw ahead a steel door lifting. The trolley passed under it and the door began to descend. He arrived just as the steel plate closed with a hydraulic purr. Beyond he had caught a glimpse of the ramp descending steeply into the distance. To his right, set into the wall, was another of those infernal computer- operated slots. He heard a shuffling tread and turned to face Astrid.
`You have no business here, Mr Newman. I shall have to report this act of trespass…'
`Do that. What are you trying to hide? Report that remark too…'
He walked past her and retraced his steps rapidly along the corridor to where Nancy and Novak stood waiting for him. The American looked worried and took a step forward to speak in a whisper before Astrid reached them.