Terminal

last moment. Any more questions?'

`I'm only doing my job, Bob. And I'm getting a lot of flak from the British Embassy. A chap called Wiley. He's a British citizen and was apparently an influential businessman. First, this Wiley wants to know exactly how he died…'

`How did he die?'

I think it was murder. I called the Embassy to see if they had any information on him. Wiley asks a lot of questions – then he puts in an urgent request for the minimum of publicity. So who was Mason is what I keep asking myself. And, like it or not, two men have now died in peculiar circumstances – both less than a kilometre from the Bellevue Palace, both who had links, however tenuous, with you..

Newman emptied his coffee cup and stood up. Beck watched while he slipped on his coat, buttoned it up. The Swiss also stood up.

`You haven't asked me why I think this Mason was murdered.'

`That's your job…'

`He's number two. Julius Nagy ends up at the bottom of the Plattform wall, which faces the sluice where Mason was found floating. Mason was thirty-three – I got that from the passport. He ends up in the river. You think he stumbled into the Aare? Two very convenient accidents. Were you outside the Bellevue late last night?'

`Yes, as a matter of fact I was. I went for a walk along the arcades. I couldn't sleep. And no one saw me. May I go now?'

`Gisela, what is it?' Beck asked his assistant who had opened the door to the connecting office where she worked most of the day.

`He's on the phone. Would you like to take it in here?'

Newman waited while Beck disappeared into the next room. He would be the Chief of Police, he imagined. Gisela asked if he would like more coffee but he refused and asked her a question, keeping his voice low.

`Mr Beck tells me you took that mysterious call reporting that I knew Mason, the man they dragged out of the river. I gather the caller spoke in broken German?'

`Yes, I had only just arrived. I ran to the phone, expecting it to stop ringing before I got there. The voice sounded muffled – like someone talking through a handkerchief. I had to make him repeat what he said, then he rang off. I've just realized something – I think I detected a trace of an American accent.'

I should tell your boss that,' Newman suggested. 'Had Beck arrived in the building when the call came through?'

`No. He came in about a quarter of an hour later.,,'

`Thanks. Don't forget that bit about an American accent. I was leaving – tell Beck I couldn't wait any longer. I'm in a rush…'

Lee Foley was humming Glenn Miller's In the Mood as he drove the Porsche back along the motorway towards Berne. He had spent the night in a gasthof, had breakfasted in Thun, made the agreed call to Berne, and now he was coming into the open.

Despite his almost infinite capacity for patience, he found it highly stimulating that the time for action had arrived. He had most of the data he needed, the equipment, he thought he knew at long last what was going on. The moment had come to stir things up, to raise a little hell. He pushed his foot down on the accelerator and let the Porsche rip.

`Who was that on the phone?' Newman asked as he came into the bedroom. 'And you left the door unlocked again…'

`A wrong number.' Nancy had replaced the receiver. She came towards him with an anxious expression. 'Forget about the door – I've been worried sick. What did the police want?'

`Pour some of that coffee. Sit down. And listen!' `Something is wrong,' she said as she handed him his cup and sat down, crossing her legs.

`Everything is wrong,' he told her. 'On no account are you to take the car and visit the Berne Clinic on your own…'

`I'll do so if I want to. And I do want to see Jesse today. You have your date with Dr Novak tonight in Thun. You won't want two trips…'

`Nancy, listen, for God's sake. There's been another killing. At least, that's the theory the police are working on. This time some Englishman – and he was staying at this hotel. They hauled his drowned body out of the river in the middle of the night. A man called Mason. There's something odd about him – the British Embassy is making too much fuss.'

`That's dreadful. But that is a problem for the police…'

`Nancy! We can no longer trust the Swiss police. I have also visited an old friend in Swiss Army Intelligence – counter-espionage it comes to the same thing. We can no longer trust Army Intelligence. They're both trying to manipulate me. I'm almost certain they're using me as a stalking horse – and that is very dangerous. For you as well as for me.'

`A stalking horse?' She wrinkled her smooth brow. Nancy really did have a superb complexion Newman thought. He had a vivid recall of the state of Tommy Mason's complexion in the morgue. 'I don't understand,' Nancy said.

`Then I'll try and explain it, so you'll understand, so maybe just for once you'll listen to me. And – no maybe – do as I tell you…'

`Give me one good reason.'

She annoyed him by standing up and walking over to gaze out of the window. It was another overcast day. A cloud bank like a grey sea pressed down on Berne. A white mist drifted closer along the river, heading in towards the city off the Bantiger.

`There's some kind of conspiracy,' Newman began. 'It's very widespread. I'm still vague on the details but I sense that it affects the whole of Switzerland – what you'd call in America the industrial-military complex. The police – the Federal lot – may be mixed up in it. Do you realize what that means?'

`I'm sure you're going to tell me…'

`I'm sure as hell going to do just that. You didn't understand my reference to a stalking horse. I happen to be a well-known foreign correspondent. I can't convince anyone I'm not here after another big story. The Kruger thing has caused them to think like that. So if we make one wrong move, take one step that disturbs them, the whole Military Intelligence and police machine will crash down on our heads. Are you with me so far?'

`I think so. The weather is beginning to look fantastic…'

`Bugger the weather. There appear to be two rival power groups fighting each other for supremacy. One group may be trying to use me to break the other – by exploding the whole conspiracy in a sensational expose story in Der Spiegel. The group working underground is very powerful – I think it may have millions of Swiss francs at its disposal. Money means power – power to infiltrate the security organs of the state…'

Newman stopped in mid-sentence. When she turned round he was staring at the bottom of his cup. She went to him and placed her arm round his neck.

`What is it, Bob?'

`I may have missed something. What if we are dealing with patriots? Not villains in the normal sense of the word – men who sincerely believe they are protecting their country, who will go to any lengths to achieve their purpose?'

`And if that is the case?'

`It makes things far worse, more dangerous.' Newman put the cup on the tray and started pacing the room, hands clasped behind his back. 'I'm right, Nancy. There is no one we can trust. We're on our own. There are only two men who could crack this thing wide open…'

`Waldo Novak?'

`Yes. And Manfred Seidler. The police have put out a dragnet for Seidler. I have to reach him first. You make no trips to the Berne Clinic on your own. A certain Army officer went cold on me when I mentioned the place. So, we only visit the Clinic together. And when I'm out on my own – as I will be tonight when I see Novak – you stay in this hotel. Preferably in one of the public rooms…'

`You make me feel like a prisoner,' she objected.

He grabbed her by both arms and pulled her close to him. She stood quite still when she saw his expression.