Part 8 (2/2)

'I must apologize for any inconvenience we may be causing you,' Tripet began, sitting very erect in his chair. 'But it is a very serious matter we are concerned with...'

'You are concerned with. Not me,' Newman said aggressively.

'We all admired your handling of the Kruger case. I have met German colleagues who are full of praise for the way you trapped Kruger and exposed his links with the DDR...'

'You mean Soviet-occupied East Germany,' Newman commented. 'Also known as The Zone. What has this to do with my summons here?'

'Coffee, Mr Newman?' Tripet looked at the girl who had come in with a tray of cardboard cups. 'How do you like it?'

'I don't - not out of a cardboard cup. I can get that at British Rail buffets, which I don't patronize.'

'I read your book,' Tripet continued after dismissing the girl who left him one of the cardboard cups. 'One thing which really fascinated me was the way you were able to tap in to the terminal keyboard.

He paused to drink some coffee and Newman had the oddest feeling Tripet was watching him with all his concentration for some reaction. Reaction to what? He remained silent.

'I refer to the keyboard at Dusseldorf where the Germans house their giant computer which has so helped them track down hostile agents. You have come to Switzerland on holiday, Mr Newman?' he added casually.

Newman stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette in the clean ashtray, watching Tripet with a bleak look as he did so. He stood up, walked over to the window behind the Swiss policeman and stared down into the street. Tripet asked was there something wrong?

Newman didn't reply. He continued staring down, being careful not to disturb the heavy net curtain. Julius Nagy was standing in the entrance to the building opposite which Newman had observed when he had arrived. Biblioteque Munic.i.p.ale Biblioteque Munic.i.p.ale. Public Library.

'Tripet,' he said, 'could you join me for a moment, please?' 'Something is bothering you,' Tripet commented as he stood beside the Englishman.

'That man in the doorway over there. Julius Nagy. He's been following me since we arrived at Cointrin. A friend of yours?'

'I'll have him checked out,' Tripet said promptly and headed for the door out of his office. 'Give me a minute...'

'There's a phone on your desk,' Newman pointed out.

But Tripet was gone, closing the door behind him. Newman lit a fresh cigarette and waited while the comedy was played out. Within a short time he saw two policemen in their pale grey uniforms, automatic pistols sheathed in holsters on their right hips, walk briskly across the road.

There appeared to be a brief altercation, Nagy protesting as the policemen each took an arm and escorted him across the road out of sight into the building below. Newman grinned to himself and was seated in his chair when Tripet returned.

'We are questioning him,' he informed Newman. 'I have told them to concentrate on learning the ident.i.ty of his employer.'

'Who do you think you're fooling?'

'Pardon?'

'Look here,' Newman rasped, leaning across the desk, 'this charade has gone on long enough...'

'Charade?'

'Charade, Tripet! There was a time not long ago when I was welcome in Switzerland. I helped over a certain matter which has not a d.a.m.n thing to do with you. Ever since I came in this time I've been watched and hara.s.sed...'

'Hara.s.sed, Mr Newman?'

'Kindly listen and don't interrupt! I said hara.s.sed - and I meant hara.s.sed. You drag me over here for a meaningless conversation. You send two of your menials to pick me up publicly at the Hotel des Bergues like a common criminal. You don't even have the decency to phone me first...'

'We were not sure you would come...'

Newman rode over him 'Don't interrupt, I said! Then you pretend you don't know Nagy. You go out of the room to give an order instead of using the phone in front of you - so I won't hear the order you give. ”Bring in Nagy. Make it look good - he's watching from my office window.” Something like that, yes, no? Well, I've had it up to here. I'm communicating with Beck of the Federal Police in Berne. Arthur Beck, a.s.sistant to the Chief of the Federal Police...'

'It was Beck who asked me to bring you here,' Tripet informed him quietly.

Newman insisted on returning to the Hotel des Bergues in a cab despite Tripet's efforts to provide an unmarked police car. On the way back across the river he sat thinking, his mind tangled with contradictory ideas. There was no peace for him when he'd paid off the cab and went upstairs to his room. Nancy opened the door and he knew something had happened. She grasped his arm and wrapped it round her waist.

'Bob, I thought you'd never come. Are you all right? What did they want? While you were out I had the weirdest phone call. Are you all right?' she repeated. 'Shall I get coffee? Room Service does have its uses.' All in a rush of words.

'Order three litres. No, sit down, I'll order it myself - and I'm fine. Tell me about the phone call when I've organized coffee.' He grinned. 'We have to get our priorities right.

He refused to let her talk until the coffee had arrived. He gave her an edited version of his visit to police headquarters, conveying the impression they were intrigued by the newspaper article and wanted to know what story he was working on. And, he reflected, that might just be the real motive behind his interview with Tripet.

'Now,' he began after she had swallowed half a cup, 'tell me in your own words about this phone call.' He grinned. 'I'm not sure, of course, who else's words you would use ...'

'Stop kidding. I was jumpy at the time, but I'm better now. Anyone ever tell you you're a good psychologist?'

'Nancy, do get to the point,' he urged gently.

'The phone rang and a man's voice asked to speak to you. He spoke in English but I know he wasn't English - or American. He had a thick, Middle-European accent.

'Whatever that might be.'

'Bob! We do do have a mixture of nationalities in the States. And I'm not bad on accents. Can I go on? Good. I told him that you weren't here, that you'd be back sometime, but I didn't know when. He was persistent. Did I have a number where he could reach you? It was urgent...' have a mixture of nationalities in the States. And I'm not bad on accents. Can I go on? Good. I told him that you weren't here, that you'd be back sometime, but I didn't know when. He was persistent. Did I have a number where he could reach you? It was urgent...'

'Urgent to him,' Newman interjected cynically.

'He sounded sounded urgent,' she insisted. 'Almost close to panic. I asked him for a number where you could call him back, but he wouldn't play it that way. Eventually he said he'd call you later, but he asked me to give you a strange message, made me repeat it to make sure I'd got it...' urgent,' she insisted. 'Almost close to panic. I asked him for a number where you could call him back, but he wouldn't play it that way. Eventually he said he'd call you later, but he asked me to give you a strange message, made me repeat it to make sure I'd got it...'

'What message?'

'He gave his name, too. Reluctantly and only when I said I was going to put down the receiver, that I didn't take messages from anonymous callers. A Manfred Seidler. I made him spell it. The message was that for a generous consideration he could tell you all about terminal...'

'He said what?'

'Not a a terminal. I checked that. Just terminal ...' terminal. I checked that. Just terminal ...'

Newman sat staring into s.p.a.ce. He was alone in the bedroom. Nancy had gone shopping to buy a stronger pair of boots. She'd observed that the smart girls in Geneva had a snappy line in boots, Newman suspected. She was not going to be left behind by the compet.i.tion.

Terminal.

Newman was beginning to wonder whether his conversation with Chief Inspector Tripet had been as meaningless as he'd thought at the time. Correction. Beck's conversation with him by proxy via Tripet. What was it he'd said?

One thing which really fascinated me was the way you were able to tap into the terminal keyboard. And Tripet had emphasized the word terminal terminal - and had watched Newman intently as he spoke. - and had watched Newman intently as he spoke.

Now this weirdo, Manfred Seidler, was offering to tell him all about - terminal. What the h.e.l.l did the word signify? Tripet - Beck - had linked it to the operation of a highly sophisticated computer. Could there be any connection with the Kruger affair?

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