On this exit line Nancy turned and made her way between the crowd which parted to let her through. Watched by Grange and Signer she went straight up to Beck and started talking to the police chief, giving the impression she was seeking further backing for the decision she had prised out of the Professor. Newman seized his opportunity, guessing that Grange would not welcome a fresh public row.
`I'm glad to meet you at last.' He smiled amiably without offering to shake hands. 'I'm writing a series of articles on Swiss industry and I understand you have at Horgen one of the most advanced factories in the world for the production of commercial gases?'
`That is so, Mr Newman…' Grange seemed relieved at the change of subject, by the prospect of conversing with someone in normal tones. `Horgen is totally automated, the only type of plant in that field in the whole world…'
`Except that, naturally, the containers are supplied from outside…'
`But they are not, Mr Newman. We manufacture our own cylinders.'
`Some photographs would help…'
`I will send some to you here by special courier. It will be a pleasure…'
`Thank you so much. And now I had better… circulate.'
Newman smiled and withdrew. He joined Nancy who was still chatting with Beck. The police chief looked quizzically at Newman and then glanced across the room to where Signer was talking rapidly to Grange.
`You had a pleasant conversation?' he enquired.
`Grange just made one of his rare – and possibly fatal – mistakes. He gave me the last piece of information I was seeking…'
`You know Dr Novak has arrived?' Nancy said to Newman as soon as they were alone. 'I think he tanked up in the bar before he decided to join us…'
She stopped speaking as a hush fell on the guests. The silence was so pronounced that Newman turned towards the entrance to see what had caused every head to turn in that direction. A short man with a large head and a wide mouth, smoking a cigar, stood surveying the assembly.
`My God!' he heard someone behind him say in French. 'Dr Max Nagel has arrived. Now we'll see some real fireworks.'
Nagel, whose dinner jacket emphasized the great width of his shoulders, carried two large envelopes tucked under his arm. He dipped his head, acknowledging a waiter and taking a glass of champagne from the proffered tray, then walked across the room slowly, his mouth tightly clamped on the cigar.
There was a feeling of tension, hardly anyone was talking as Grange and Signer watched him coming. Nagel paused, thanked another waiter who held a tray with an ash-tray for him. He carefully dropped the ash from his cigar, increasing the tension. The man was a superb actor, Newman reflected.
He held the entire gathering in the palm of his large hand. `Good evening, Grange. Colonel Signer. I have something for you both…'
`This is a medical reception,' Grange said coldly. 'I was not aware you had joined the profession…'
`Signer is a doctor?' Nagel's voice was a rumbling growl.
Newman glanced over his shoulder. Signer had switched his gaze to someone behind him. Blanche was watching the scene with a frown. Not Blanche. Lee Foley, one of the few men present not in evening dress, who was wearing a dark blue business suit with matching tie, a cream shirt and gold links fastening his cuffs, was now standing, staring at Signer. Close to him stood the small Englishman, Tweed, who was gazing intently through his spectacles. Newman had the impression of a stage manager studying the actors performing in a play he had rehearsed. Newman heard the growl continuing and faced the other way.
`I think we're near the end of the line,' Nagel pronounced. `It has taken two months for the most brilliant accountants to trace the movement of two hundred million francs to its ultimate destination. A copy of the report for you, Professor Grange, one for you Colonel Signer. Terminal is terminated.
`What is this to do with me?' Signer asked with a sneer as he took the sheaf of stapled papers from the envelope and gave them a mere glance.
`They are photocopies,' Nagel rumbled on, 'the original is in my vault. And I expect you're capable of recognizing your own signature, Colonel. It appears three times on those documents. And you might care to know, Grange, I have called a meeting of bankers to take place in Zurich. We will travel to meet you from Basle. The main item on the agenda? Those complex transactions. I bid you good night. Enjoy your medical ruminations, gentlemen…'
Newman turned round again as the banker left, smoking his cigar. He saw Dr Novak leaning up against a wall, holding a glass at a precarious angle. Novak was watching the drama like a man hypnotized. It seemed a good moment to persuade the American to fall in with his plans. He excused himself and the buzz of many voices talking started up as Nagel let himself out through the revolving doors and climbed into the rear of a waiting limousine.
`Novak,' Newman said, 'they're all watching Grange and Signer. Go to the lift – I'll join you there in a second. We have to talk. Don't argue – the whole thing is collapsing and they'll be looking for scapegoats. You could fit the part beautifully. And dump that glass on the table…'
He walked out into the main hall, asked the concierge to have two pots of black coffee sent up to his room, and went along to the lift where Novak was waiting.
`Novak, tomorrow night I'm going to break in to the Berne Clinic and you're going to help me…'
`You crazy, Newman?'
The American was sagged on the bed in Room 428, his shirt collar open at the neck, his tie loose. He also wore a business suit and Newman had emptied one jug of black coffee inside him. Novak was sober, reasonably so.
`You saw Lee Foley tonight at the reception?' Newman asked. 'One word from me and he'll put in motion the revoking of your passport. You have access to those computer key cards which open the outer doors. I'm going inside that laboratory…'
`Those keys I don't have…'
`But I do. I got them off Willy Schaub this afternoon – they're so important he carries them with him everywhere. He talked, Novak. And he won't be coming back to the Clinic. I imagine Sunday is quiet at the Clinic?'
`Yes, it is. The only day both Grange and Kobler are away from the place. Grange spends the night at his large house in Elfenau – that's a suburb of Berne. Kobler spends the night with a girl somewhere. But there are a whole posse of guards left…'
`So I'll have to evade them. We meet after dark. The only problem I haven't solved is the Dobermans…'
`They're keeping them indoors. They don't patrol at the moment – not since that business with Mrs Laird. Grange has said he wants the place to look normal. I go off duty myself Sunday night at nine in the evening.'
I'll be there before then. About eight o'clock. Just be waiting for me inside that lobby. And Novak, I'd pack a bag and clear out yourself. I've booked a room for you here at the Bellevue. Stay inside it. Use Room Service for food until I arrive back. You'll do what I'm telling you?'
`I want out. I'll do it. It sounded downstairs like Nagel is going to blow the whole thing wide open…'
Newman escorted him to the door. 'If you think of changing your mind, just say two words to yourself. Lee Foley.'
He was closing the door when someone pushed against it from the outside. He eased it open a few inches, then opened it wide. Blanche walked into the room carrying an envelope similar to those Nagel had handed to Grange and Signer. She pirouetted in the middle of the bedroom.
`Like my dress, Bob? If you come closer you'll be able to appreciate my perfume…'
`You've the nerve of the devil. Nancy could arrive at any moment…'
`When I slipped up to my room and then along here she was deeply involved in conversation with a doctor from Phoenix…'
`Blanche, I think your dress is out of this world, to say nothing of what's inside it. By the way, how did you manage to arrive just after Novak left?'
`By waiting on one of those seats in the corridor. Bob, I don't like the look in your eye, the set of your mouth. You aren't planning on doing something foolish, I hope? Watch your answer – I know you…'
`I have no intention of bedding you here…'
