Part 20 (2/2)

'And you haven't met me. I don't exist. That is, if you value your health. Now, which is it to be?'

'I'll cooperate. This will be kept confidential, I hope?'

Foley stood up without replying, a very big man, nodded to Newman and walked out into the night. Novak gestured to the waiter who brought two more gla.s.ses. Newman waited until he had downed more Canadian Club and left his own gla.s.s on the table.

'What do you want to know?' Novak asked in a tone of resignation.

'What is the nationality of the patients in the Berne Clinic? Mixed?'

'It's odd. No Swiss. They're all American - with a few from South America when they can afford it. Grange charges enormous fees. Most of them come to him as a result of his lecture tours in the States. He's into cellular rejuvenation in a big way. So, it's a two-way pull.'

'What does that mean?'

'Look, Newman...' Novak, ashen-faced from his encounter with Foley, turned to look at the Englishman. '... this isn't an ideal world we live in. There are a lot of American families reeking with money, often new money. Oil tyc.o.o.ns in Texas, men who have made millions in Silicon Valley out of the electronics boom. Others, too. Grange has a sharp eye for a set-up where the money is controlled by some elderly man or woman whose nearest and dearest are panting to take that control away. They send the head of the family to the Berne Clinic for this so-called cellular rejuvenation. That gets them out of the way. They apply for a court order to administer the estate. You get the picture?'

'Go on...'

Novak's voice changed and he mimicked a man making out a case to a judge. 'Your Honour, the business is in danger of going bankrupt unless we have the power to keep things running. The owner is in a Swiss Clinic. I don't like to use the word ”senile” but...' He swallowed more of his drink. 'Now do you get the picture? Grange offers the patient, who is seriously ill, the hope of a new lease of life. He offers the dependants the chance to get their hands on a fortune. At a price. It's a brilliant formula based on a need. Professor Grange is a brilliant man. Has a hypnotic effect on people, especially women.'

'In what way - hypnotic?'

'He makes the relatives feel what they want to feel - that they're doing the right thing in exiling to Switzerland the manor woman who stands in their way. Loving care and the best attention.' Novak's voice changed. 'When all the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds want to do is to get their hands on the money. Grange has worked out a perfect formula based on human nature.'

'There's nothing specifically criminal so far,' Newman commented.

'Criminal?'

Novak spilt some of his drink on the table. The watchful waiter, ready for a fresh order, appeared with a cloth and wiped the table. Novak, shaken, waited until they were alone.

'Who said anything about criminal activities?'

'Why is the Swiss Army guarding the Clinic?' Newman threw at him.

'That's a peculiar business I don't want to know about,I do my job and don't ask questions. This is Switzerland. The whole place is an armed camp. Did you know there is a military training base at Lerchenfeld? That's at the other side of the town. In Thun-Sud...'

'But you have seen men in Swiss Army uniform inside the Berne Clinic?' Newman persisted. 'Don't forget what Foley said.'

'I've been here a year. In all that time I've only seen men in some kind of uniform. Once inside the main gatehouse, once patrolling the grounds near the laboratory...'

'Ah, the laboratory. What goes on inside that place?'

'I have no idea. I've never been allowed there. But I have heard that's where the experiments with cellular rejuvenation are carried out. I gather the Swiss are very advanced with the technique of halting the onset of age.' Novak warmed to his theme, relaxing for the first time. 'The technique goes back before the war. In nineteen-thirty-eight Somerset Maugham, the writer, first underwent treatment. He was attended by the famous Dr Niehans who injected him with cells sc.r.a.ped from the foetus of unborn lambs. Timing was all-important. No more than an hour had to elapse between the slaughter of the pregnant ewe and the injection of the cells into the human patient. Niehans first ground up the cells obtained from the foetus and made them soluble in a saline solution. The solution was then injected into the patient's b.u.t.tocks...'

'It all sounds a bit macabre,' Newman remarked. 'Somerset Maugham lived to be ninety-one...'

'And Grange has a similar successful track record?'

'That is Grange's secret. His technique, apparently, is a great advance on Niehans'. I do know he keeps a variety of animals in that laboratory - but what I don't know. There's also another clinic which goes in for the same sort of treatment near Montreux. They call it Cellvital Cellvital'

Newman quietly refilled his gla.s.s with Perrier from the bottle Foley had left. He found the information Novak had just given him interesting. It could explain Jesse Kennedy's reference to 'experiments' - an activity no more sinister than the fact that it was not yet accepted by the medical profession everywhere.

'You've told me the nationality of the patients,' he said after a short pause. 'You're American. What about the other doctors?'

'They're Swiss. Grange asked me to come during one of his American tours...'

'And you came for a very normal reason - the money?' 'Like I told you, two hundred thousand dollars a year. I make a fortune - at my age..

So, Novak hadn't been clutching a figure out of the air to impress him, Newman reflected. He felt he still wasn't asking the right questions. He flicked Novak on the raw to get a reaction, posing the query casually.

'What do you do for that? Sign a few dummy death certificates?'

'You go to h.e.l.l!'

I get the impression there may be some kind of h.e.l.l up at that Clinic - and that you suspect more than you're telling. You live on the premises?'

'Yes.' Novak had gone sullen. 'That was part of my contract.'

'And the Swiss doctors?'

'They go -home. Look, Newman, I work very long hours for my money. I'm on call most of the year..

'Calm down. Have another drink. What about the staff - the guards, cleaners, receptionists. Where do they come from?'

'That's a bit odd,' Novak admitted. 'Grange won't employ anyone local - who lives in Thun. They also live on the premises. Most of them are from other parts of Switzerland. All except w.i.l.l.y Schaub. He goes to his home in Matte - that's a district of Berne near the Nydeggbrucke. Goes home every night.'

'What job has he got?' Newman asked, taking out his notebook.

'Head porter. He's been there forever, I gather. The odd job man. Turns his hand to anything. Very reliable...'

'I'll take his address...'

Novak hesitated until Newman simply said, 'Foley,' then he changed his mind. 'I do happen to know where he lives. Once I needed some drugs urgently and since I wa-sin Berne I picked them up from his house. Funny old shanty. Gbernga.s.se 498. It's practically under the bridge. There's a covered staircase runs down from the end of the bridge into the Gerbernga.s.se. He probably knows as much about the Clinic as anyone - except for Grange and Kobler...'

'Thank you, Novak, you've been very accommodating. One more thing before I go. I'll need to see you again. Will you be attending the medical reception at the Bellevue Palace?'

'The Professor has asked me to be there. Most unusual... 'Why unusual?'

'It will be the first public function I've been to since I came out here.'

'So you'll be able to slip away for a short time. Then we can talk in my bedroom. I may have thought of some other questions. Why are you looking so dubious? Does Grange keep you on a collar and chain?'

'Of course not. I don't think we ought to be seen together much longer...'

'You could have been followed?' Newman asked quickly.

He looked round the restaurant which was filling up. They appeared, from s.n.a.t.c.hes of conversation, to be farmers and local businessmen. The farmers were complaining about the bad weather, as though this was unique in history.

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