Colin Forbes - Terminal

`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.

I should leave here quickly if I were you…'

`It will be a pleasure…'

`First,' Astrid demanded, 'you must fill in the visiting forms at reception. It is the regulation…'

`It will be a pleasure,' Newman repeated.

The chill air of darkening night swept across the exposed plateau as they stood at the top of the steps outside the glassed-in verandah. But it was still daylight as Newman pulled on his gloves and Nancy shivered beside him. Novak had not come out to see them off, presumably to avoid any impression of intimacy.

`Cold?' Newman asked.

`This place gives me the creeps. My first impression – as soon as I saw the place – was right. There's something abnormal about the Clinic, Bob…'

`We'll talk about it in the car. With a bit of luck we should be back in Berne just before night…'

He drove down the curving drive slowly, again looking round to check the layout. A pallid light glowed over the stark and grim mountains on the far side of Thun. Nancy huddled herself inside her coat and turned up the heater. She looked out on both sides and then back through the rear window.

`There never seems to be anyone about – and yet I get the uncanny feeling unseen eyes are watching our every move. I'm not usually like this. Look – that's the sort of thing I mean…'

As they approached the gatehouse there were no signs of life but the gates opened. Newman drove between them, turned right and headed down the narrow road to the wider road where they had placed the sign to the Berne Clinic. She glanced at his profile.

`You've changed recently,' she remarked. date it from when we'd been a few hours in Geneva.'

`Changed? In what way?'

`You used to be so light-hearted, always smiling and cracking jokes. You look so terribly serious and determined. And why did you go running after that trolley when we left Jesse's room? Novak thought you'd taken leave of your senses.'

`What do you think was lying under that sheet?'

`Some unfortunate soul who'd just passed away..

`Do corpses normally waggle their hand? Whatever was under that sheet did just that.'

`Oh, my God. The sheet was pulled right over the body…'

`And that's only done when the patient is dead. That one was very much alive. My guess is that whoever was spread out under the sheet heard us and was trying to signal. Now you know why I ran after them. They beat me to a door which closed in my face – an automatic door, of course. That damned place is more like a giant computer than a clinic.'

`You mean they were running from you? I thought the trolley's brakes weren't working – that the momentum was carrying it down that ramp. Where does that corridor lead to?'

`A good question. There's a complex of new buildings further down the slope. I think they have a covered tunnel leading there. The corridor runs into the tunnel.'

`What kind of complex?'

`That, my dear Nancy, is one of the things I plan to ask our friend Dr Novak when I meet him in Thun on Thursday night.

`He agreed to meet you! That's strange. Where are you seeing him? I can come, can't I?'

`The rendezvous is immaterial. It is strange that he agreed. And no, you can't come…'

Bastard! Why do you think he did agree?' she asked as they came close to the bridge over the motorway and the slip road leading down on to the highway.

`I got the impression he's scared witless about something. I also think he's been waiting for the chance to contact someone outside that claustrophobic prison he can trust, he can confide in. And why are you so bothered about the Berne Clinic?'

`Did you notice the absence of something from Jesse's room?'

`I don't think so. I was too busy talking to Novak – to cover the fact you were talking to Jesse. What did I miss?'

`I'll tell you later,' she said, 'when we're back at the hotel. Do you think Jesse is safe in that place?'

Tor the next few days, yes. Didn't you get the point of my shouting the odds about the medical reception at the Bellevue? They have a tape recorder behind that grille…'

`It really is creepy…'

`My strategy,' he continued, 'was to frighten them to ensure they don't harm him. They'll be very careful with Jesse until that medical congress is over. By then we may know what's going on at the Berne Clinic. I was buying time…'

They had turned down the slip road and were now speeding along the deserted motorway back towards Berne. It was so overcast Newman had his lights on and they were approaching the point where another slip road entered the motorway beyond a bridge. In his rear view mirror Newman saw a black Mercedes coming fast behind him. It signalled and swung out into the fast lane prior to overtaking. Then all hell broke loose on the motorway.

A helmeted figure appeared behind Newman on a scooter, sounding the horn in urgent, non-stop blasts. The Mercedes had not yet drawn alongside. Newman frowned, his eyes moving from side to side. At the exit to the slip road ahead a giant orange-coloured snowplough was moving slowly forward, its huge blade raised to its highest arc. The scooter horn continued its blasting sound.

`What's the matter with that man?' Nancy asked.

She was speaking when Newman signalled – signalled that he was turning out into the fast lane ahead of the oncoming Mercedes. The snowplough emerged from the slip road like some monstrous robot, moving straight into the path of the slow lane. Newman rammed his foot down, swinging to his left. The Mercedes began sounding its own horn. He ignored it. 'Hang on!' he warned Nancy. 'Oh, Christ!' she muttered. The snowplough was almost on top of them. Like a guillotine the massive steel blade descended. Nancy saw it coming down. She froze with horror. It was going to slice them in two. The Citroen was now moving at manic speed, way above the limit. The blade flashed past Nancy's window, missed hitting the Citroen by inches. She flinched. The Mercedes jammed on its brakes to avoid the coming collision. In the fast lane Newman accelerated. The scooter passed the Mercedes, still speeding in the slow lane, weaving past the now stationary snowplough.

Behind the wheel of the Mercedes Hugo Munz swore foully to his passenger, Emil Graf. He reduced speed, checking in his mirror for any sign of a police patrol car. The motorway was still deserted.

`You should have hit him,' said Graf.

`You're crazy! I could have bounced off, hit the steel barrier and we both end up dead. That scooter warned him…'