Colin Forbes - Terminal

`Count me out…'

`Robert! It's all fixed.' Her temper began to flare. 'I'm all packed. You said you could pack anytime in ten minutes even to go to Tokyo…'

`That's when I want to go, to Tokyo. Look, Nancy – and don't interrupt. There's not a shred of evidence that there's anything wrong about Jesse being flown to the Berne Clinic. I've talked to Dr Chase. I've had two conversations with Rosen. I've stared at Linda's legs while she talked to me…'

`Is that what you're so anxious not to leave – Linda's legs?'

`Now you're getting nasty. Nancy, you can't just push me around like this. It's no basis for any kind of relationship – let alone marriage.'

`Oh, shit, Bob…'

`Look, Nancy, this argument has been going on practically since we first met in London three months ago…'

`That was when I tried to phone Jesse and heard from Linda that he'd been sent to Switzerland. I really do feel something's very wrong. Remember, I am a doctor…'

`And I'm a foreign correspondent who looks for evidence. I haven't found anything to justify your anxiety. Now you present me with this fait accompli, this package deal all wrapped up in pink ribbon.'

He waved the ticket folders under her shapely nose. She took both his wrists in her hands, leaned up to him and nestled her face alongside his, whispering in his ear.

`Bob, would you please come with me to Berne to quiet my fears. For my sake?'

`That's a better approach…'

`It's the approach I should have used first. You're right – I should never have bought those tickets without consulting you. I'm sorry. Truly.'

He freed one hand and reached under her hair to stroke her neck. The receptionist was putting on quite a performance at not noticing them. She nestled her head against his chest and purred contentedly. He freed his other hand, grasped her chin and lifted it up to kiss her full on the lips.

`Nancy, I have to go back to Dr Rosen to ask him one more question. We leave for Berne tomorrow..

Harvey Wayne had just left Rosen when Newman sat down opposite the doctor. Rosen nodded towards Harvey's retreating back with a grimace.

`He's been pumping me, trying to find out what we were talking about. How did the argument go?'

`The way I expected it to.' Newman's manner had changed. He was crisp, decisive. 'Have you any idea where the majority of patients in the Berne Clinic come from?'

`My impression – it was no more than that – was they mostly come from the States. Plus a few from South America where they can still afford the fees. Is it significant?'

`It could be the key to the whole operation.'

Seven

11 February 1984. The DC10 flew at 35,000 feet above the invisible Atlantic as the machine proceeded at 500 mph in a north-easterly direction for Europe. In her first-class seat Nancy was fast asleep, her head flopped on Newman's shoulder. He moved her carefully so he could leave his seat. No risk she would wake up: when Nancy fell asleep she went out cold.

Taking a pad from his pocket, Newman wrote the signal in capital letters so there could be no error in transmission. Standing up, he summoned a stewardess, put a finger to his lips and nodded towards Nancy. Taking the girl by the arm he guided her towards the pilot's cabin and spoke only when they were inside the galley.

`I'd like this message radioed immediately to London. Find out the cost while I wait here…'

The stewardess returned in less than a minute. An attractive girl, she studied Newman frankly. You weren't supposed to fraternize with passengers but… She found Newman's droll, easy manner irresistible. And her flat wasn't far from Gatwick. And he was English. And the female passenger he was travelling with wore no ring. A girl had to make the most of her opportunities. She told him the cost of the message and he took his time paying her in dollars.

`The radio operator is already transmitting, Mr Newman…'

`You're a helpful girl to have around…'

`I have two days off at Gatwick…'

`Give me the phone number?'

`I'm not supposed to…'

`But you will…'

He loaned her his pad and ballpoint pen, tucked a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, and watched her while she wrote the figures on the pad. She added a name and upside down he read Susan. He took the pad off her and slipped out of sight as the curtain moved and a steward appeared. He gave her a little salute.

`Thank you for dealing with that for me,' he said for the benefit of the steward who was unnecessarily polishing glasses. 'When should it reach London?'

`Within a matter of minutes, sir…'

`Thank you again.'

He winked at her, pushed aside the curtain and went back to his seat. Nancy was awake, stretching her arms, thrusting out her well-rounded breasts against her tight cashmere sweater. He gave her a look of amiable resignation as he settled himself beside her.

`You're a dog,' she said. 'You've been chatting up that stewardess.' She wrapped a proprietary arm round his. 'You know, sometimes I think I should grab you for good while I can. You're not safe to leave roaming around loose.'

`What stewardess?'

`The one with the superb legs who showed us to our seats, the one you couldn't take your eyes off, the one whose eyes ate you up. Discreetly, of course…'

`Change of plan,' he said abruptly.

`Which means?'

`You'd better have some coffee to get you properly awake before I tell you.' He summoned the steward who had finished polishing glasses and gave the order. Then he relapsed into silence until she had drunk half the cup.

`I've been a good girl,' she said. 'What change of plan?'

`We don't take the Dan-Air flight from Gatwick to Belp. We take the bus from Gatwick to Heathrow. Then we catch a Swissair flight to Geneva. Going in via Geneva disguises our real destination.'

`Bob!' She straightened up so abruptly she almost spilt her coffee. 'You're taking this thing seriously. You do think there's something peculiar going on. God, you're a dark horse. Sometimes I feel I'll never really know you. Your whole manner has changed…'

`If we have to do the job we might as well do it professionally…'

`That isn't the reason,' she pounced. 'Rosen told you something which changed your whole attitude. So why the hell did we have to have that embarrassing row in the lobby of the Tack Room?'

`Rosen told me nothing. We're just doing it my way. You might call it a fait accompli,' he replied airily. asked for that one,' she conceded. 'And I still don't believe you. Well, isn't that nice?'

She looked at him and Newman's head was rested against the back of the seat. His eyes were closed and he had apparently fallen into a catnap, something he was able to do anywhere at any time.

In the pilot's cabin the radio operator crumpled up the note from Newman's pad he had transmitted. The signal seemed innocuous enough and he didn't give it a second thought.

Addressed to Riverdale Trust Ltd with a PO Box number in London it was brief and to the point.

Aboard American Airlines Flight… ETA Gatwick… Proceeding to Heathrow to board Swissair flight to Geneva, repeat Geneva. Newman.

Manfred Seidler was running for his life. He used every devious means to throw a smokescreen in the eyes of those who would try to track him. Using a fake set of identity papers, he hired a car from the Hertz agency next door to the Bellevue Palace in Berne.

He drove only as far as Solothurn where he handed in the car. From the station he caught a train to Basle. If anyone did manage to trace him so far they would – with luck – think he had gone on to Zurich. He fostered this fiction by buying two separate one-way tickets – to Zurich and to Basle. He bought them at ten-minute intervals, using two different ticket windows. As the express slowed down and slid into the main station at Basle he was standing by the exit door, clutching his suitcase.