Colin Forbes - Terminal

`Why has he agreed?'

`Money. Two thousand francs should turn the trick. Maybe a little less. He'll want cash – cheques can be traced through a bank. It's up to you, Newman. I've done my best. And I am leaving when I can. What do I tell Schaub?'

`That I'll meet him. One more question before Nancy arrives. All the patients in this place – just how ill are they?'

`We've got leukaemia, multiple sclerosis. You name it, we've got it. All the patients are – terminal…'

Basle. About the same time when Newman and Nancy ended their second visit to the Berne Clinic, Bruno Kobler was sitting in his bedroom at the Hotel Terminus which faces the Hauptbahnhof at Basle. Kobler had flown to Basle and this hotel had been chosen because of its strategic position.

Manfred Seidler had been seen purchasing a ticket to Le Pont, the tiny town close to the edge of Lac de Joux in the Jura Mountains. Since then they had lost track of Seidler, which was unfortunate, but Kobler possessed almost the calm patience of Lee Foley when it came to waiting. He spoke to the short, stocky Emil Graf who stood by the window, waiting for a signal from Hugo Munz who was in charge of the team inside the Hauptbahnhof.

`Seidler has to show,' Kobler observed. 'I'm sure he has a rendezvous with someone at Le Pont. And we have more men waiting at the Hotel de is Truite…'

`I don't know Le Pont,' Graf replied. 'From the map it looks a godforsaken place…'

`It is – just the remote spot where Seidler will feel safe to meet whoever he's going to sell the sample he stole from us. And the Hotel de la Truite is near the station…'

`He must have arrived! Munz has just signalled.

Kobler was already opening the bedroom door, slipping into his astrakhan coat. He gestured towards the holdall bag on the bed to remind Graf not to forget it. Kobler had no intention of carrying the holdall, considering what it contained. Hired lackeys were paid to take such risks. Kobler would only lay his hands on the weapon when the time came to use it. He might not even have to use it at all – not when he had hired backup.

`He's boarded the two o'clock train,' Munz informed them as they hurried inside the huge station. 'Here are your tickets – and you'd better move…'

`It's Lausanne first,' Kobler guessed as he settled himself in his first-class seat alongside Munz. Graf had boarded the coach where Seidler was seated.

Kobler studied the rail timetable he had brought with him. He nodded his head as the train glided out of the station, turning the pages as he checked connections, then he glanced at Munz who sat in a rigid posture.

`Relax. We have to wait until we get him on his own. It may be hours yet. We're doing a simple job – like cleaning up some garbage…'

He looked out of the window as the train picked up speed, moving through the suburbs. He was not sorry to leave – the city of Basle was hostile territory, the home base of Dr Max Nagel, the main opponent of the Gold Club. Kobler need not have worried. At that moment Nagel was aboard another train – bound for Berne.

Five coaches ahead Manfred Seidler was a bundle of nerves. He broke open a fresh pack, lit his forty-first cigarette of the day as he thought of the scene back in the flat before he had left.

Erika had rushed back from the office to make him a meal during her lunchtime break. It was during the meal that he had told her he was leaving. She had looked appalled.

`Do you have to? I could take a long lunch hour. Nagel has gone to Berne…'

`What for?' Not that he was really interested.

`It's queer. I had to make him a reservation at the Bellevue Palace. He's attending some Medical Congress reception. He's not even a doctor. And I've never seen him look grimmer – he's up to something…'

`Probably to tie up some deal which will net him another million or two. Erika, I may not be back till tomorrow – so don't start worrying…'

`You know I will – until I see you safe and sound again. Where are you going? What is it all about? I'm entitled to know something, surely?'

`Where doesn't matter,' he had told her. 'I'm going to meet that British foreign correspondent, Robert Newman. He can give me protection – by blowing Terminal wide open. No, don't ask me any more. And thanks for the meal…'

Seated in the train he wished he had said more. He looked up at the rack where he had stored his two suitcases. One contained some of the newspapers Erika had brought him, the other the sample. It would be difficult for anyone to snatch two suitcases off him when he was walking along a platform. And they wouldn't know which case contained the sample. You had to think of little things like that.

Seidler stirred restlessly and took a deep drag on the cigarette. They had turned up the heating and he would dearly have liked to take off his jacket. But that was impossible. He was too aware of the 9-mm. Luger inside the spring-loaded holster under his left armpit.

Berne. Beck sat behind his desk in his office and looked at Gisela who had just taken the call. She put down the receiver and turned to speak to her chief.

That was Leupin. Newman and Dr Kennedy are just leaving the Berne Clinic. He spotted them through his binoculars and radioed in the information…'

`Thank you. Gisela, I want you to make reservations at the Bellevue Palace for three of our men. I want them there during that Medical Congress reception tomorrow. Professor Grange will be there. I may put in an appearance myself.'

`Things are coming to a head, aren't they?'

`Your instincts are usually good, Gisela. The one piece still missing is Manfred Seidler. The fox has gone to cover, but he has to surface. When he does I want to be there – before the military get him. Send out a fresh alert. Seidler must be found at all costs…'

Newman infuriated Nancy when they had left Novak and were approaching the parked Citroen. She just wanted to get away from the place – she was so depressed by Jesse's attitude.

`Let me check the car,' Newman warned. 'Wait here… `Why in God's name!'

`To make sure no one has tampered with it.'

He looked for fresh footprints, for any sign that someone had been clever, using their own footprints still sculpted in the hard snow. He checked the bonnet where he had pressed a small amount of snow on arrival, snow which had frozen immediately at the point where the bonnet lifted. The snow was undisturbed. He unlocked the car and waved to Nancy to get into the passenger seat.

`I'm driving this time,' he informed her as he got behind the wheel and she flopped beside him.

`You don't like my driving?' she flared.

`Remember last time – the snowplough?'

`Maybe you're right. Why all the fuss about someone tampering with it?'

`In case they'd placed a bomb,' he told her brutally as he continued his policy of unnerving her.

`Jesus! You want a nervous wreck on your hands?'

They said nothing more to each other during the drive back to Berne which was uneventful. At the Bellevue Palace they had a late lunch in the coffee shop which was quiet so it was safe to talk freely. Nancy brought, up the subject over their coffee.

`The next thing is Seidler?'

`That's right. Don't forget to pack the two overnight cases. I have an idea we're going to need them.

`Which was the first thing I was going to do. At least this time I'm permitted to accompany you..

`Nancy, do shut up…'

They spent the whole of the rest of the afternoon inside the bedroom in case Seidler phoned early. Newman had purchased a road map the previous day and he studied this while Nancy kicked off her shoes, lay on the bed and tried to sleep. She was certain she'd stay awake and the ringing of the phone jerked her back into consciousness with a start. Newman grabbed for the instrument, the map spread out on the other bed.