Part 33 (1/2)

Grange led the way, a ma.s.sive figure in the gloom. Newman estimated the half-open door to the atombunker atombunker was at least six inches of solid steel. They paused as a man wearing one of the masks emerged. He carried in each hand a small blue cylinder with a flow meter attached to its head. Stencilled along each cylinder were the words was at least six inches of solid steel. They paused as a man wearing one of the masks emerged. He carried in each hand a small blue cylinder with a flow meter attached to its head. Stencilled along each cylinder were the words Achtung! Giftgas! Achtung! Giftgas! Beware! Poison gas! Beware! Poison gas!

Inside the vast windowless bunker piles of the blue cylinders were stacked against a wall. The man who had walked out wore a uniform which Newman briefly mistook for a Swiss Army uniform. Then he realized it was similar in appearance - but not the same. It was the outfit of a security unit designed to look superficially like the military version. The Swiss Army was not guarding the Clinic. Grange had been diabolically clever - he had given the impression he was being protected by the military.

'The filters on top of the chimneys,' Newman asked Grange as they stood staring round the place. 'Why do you need them?'

He knows everything, Bruno. The filters, Mr Newman, were designed by my top chemist at Horgen in case of an accident here - in case the gas escaped. It would not do to exterminate a dozen patients wandering round the grounds in summer. Those filters render the gas harmless. On the basis of that design we shall develop a mask to protect ourselves against a change in wind direction in wartime. But the gas comes first. Now, Bruno, time for Mr Newman to leave us ...'

Bruno Kobler supervised the operation. They held his arms by his sides and Kobler himself fastened the mask over Newman's head and face. He struggled but they held him firmly. Through the Plexiglas eyepieces he saw the tinted gla.s.ses of Professor Grange staring at him with no expression at all. It was a scientific experiment he was engaged on.

Kobler led the way out of the atombunker atombunker across the laboratory chamber to a door one of the other masked figures had opened. Icy air crawled over Newman's hands. The straps round his neck chafed the skin. Kobler paused at the doorway, lifted the mask over one ear and gave instructions. across the laboratory chamber to a door one of the other masked figures had opened. Icy air crawled over Newman's hands. The straps round his neck chafed the skin. Kobler paused at the doorway, lifted the mask over one ear and gave instructions.

'You run down down the slope. It is your only chance of survival. Who knows? You are a fit man - you might just make it to the road. Not that anyone will believe what you have seen here. I will point the way you go.. the slope. It is your only chance of survival. Who knows? You are a fit man - you might just make it to the road. Not that anyone will believe what you have seen here. I will point the way you go..

The two men held Newman in a vice-like grip as Kobler slipped on an overcoat. Then they led him into the night. He looked round quickly through the eyepieces, checking where everyone was positioned. The nearby mound overlooking the downward slope, the mound where the mortar was mounted, a stock of bombs by its side. The men grouped round it - one holding a bomb near the mouth of the barrel. The slope behind them, climbing up towards the forest.

Hannah Stuart and Holly Laird had died running down down that slope, doubtless hoping to reach the road they would have seen earlier while sitting inside the enclosed verandah - Mrs Laird had even reached the road, but had then died. that slope, doubtless hoping to reach the road they would have seen earlier while sitting inside the enclosed verandah - Mrs Laird had even reached the road, but had then died.

Kobler was pointing down the slope. On top of the mound a few yards away half-a-dozen masked figures watched him, watched their target. The two men on either side released him. Kobler gestured impatiently down the slope. Newman flexed his stiff arms, nodded his head to show he understood and walked slowly forward to the edge of where the slope started downhill. Kobler, wearing no mask, retreated inside the laboratory.

Newman flexed each leg, easing the stiffness, then bent down to rub his left ankle. He jerked upright, the automatic Beck had given him, the weapon he had concealed behind his sock, gripped in his right hand. He aimed it at the men grouped round the mortar, firing over their heads.

They scattered, abandoned the mound as Newman ran straight for it, kicking over the mortar barrel, running on uphill uphill. The wind blew in his face. He knew they dare not fire the mortar even if they remounted it successfully. The gas would blow back in their their faces. They could only pursue him up the steep incline on foot. He doubted they would risk the sound of any more shots. But he was handicapped by the b.l.o.o.d.y mask which was constricting his neck. No time to stop and try to tear it off - they'd be on top of him. G.o.d, the ascent was steep, the forest seemed so very far away. faces. They could only pursue him up the steep incline on foot. He doubted they would risk the sound of any more shots. But he was handicapped by the b.l.o.o.d.y mask which was constricting his neck. No time to stop and try to tear it off - they'd be on top of him. G.o.d, the ascent was steep, the forest seemed so very far away.

Blanche stood on the knoll above the Clinic, the knoll she had used when she had photographed the Clinic and its grounds. She had followed Newman's Citroen on her scooter along the motorway. She had watched through her pair of night-gla.s.ses from a distance when he vaulted the fence. She had ridden on to the knoll, the only point from where she might see what was happening.

She had the night-gla.s.ses pressed to her eyes now, watching in horror as Newman kicked over something after scattering the men in Swiss uniform. She knew the running figure was Newman - his movements were familiar enough for her to be quite certain.

The swine had recovered from their surprise, men who wore horror film masks, and they were running after Newman, gaining on him as, bunched together, they took the same route up a gulch below where she stood. Her mouth was tight as she bent down to pick up her helmet. Her hair was blowing in her face, confusing her vision. She rammed the helmet over her head. Reaching into her pocket, she brought out an egg-shaped object. The hand grenade.

Blanche removed the glove from her right hand. At the Gstaad finis.h.i.+ng school she had been a top-flight player of tennis with a vicious backhand. She hesitated, gauging the distance between Newman, who was slowing down, and his pursuers. Newman reached a point where, the defile turned at an angle. He ran round the corner. She took out the pin and counted, her hand held behind her. It was ironic that Victor Signer had furnished her with the opportunity to obtain the grenade.

Her hand came up in a powerful, controlled swing. She lobbed the grenade and held her breath. It landed a few feet in front of the group of men hurrying up the defile, detonated. The lead pursuer threw up both arms in a wild gesture and fell. The men behind sagged to the ground, some of them crawling on all fours before they, too, collapsed.

Newman heard the explosion. It gave him the strength for one final burst up to the end of the defile - he thought they were using grenades to stop him. He came out on top of the hill and the wire fence - with the road beyond in front of the forest - was a few yards away.

To his right there was a gate in the fence. He found it was padlocked when he reached it. Hauling out the automatic from his pocket, he shot off the padlock, pulled the gate open and staggered along the road. He was still wearing the gas mask when Leupin came to meet him.

Thirty-Seven.

Monday, 20 February. Snow came to Berne in the middle of the night. Newman, who had spent half that night with Beck at the Taubenhalde , dragged himself out of bed, grabbed his wrist.w.a.tch and went over to the window to pull back the curtains. 7.30 am. He looked over his shoulder at Nancy who was lying on her back with her eyes open.

'Come and look at this,' he said.

Without a word she got out of bed and joined him, pulling on her dressing gown. For the first time since their arrival it was a white world. Rooftops heavy with snow across the river. The twin headlights of cars crawled along the s...o...b..und Aarstra.s.se. A tram, its lights blurred, crept over the Kirchenfeldbrucke. Large snowflakes drifted down past their window.

'What will happen to Grange and Signer and Kobler?' she asked. 'You flopped out when you got back from seeing Beck. I guess that experience at the Clinic must have been pretty horrible. I appreciate your calling in here first...'

'Beck was vague. They have the film they took from the van they'd parked in the forest of my being chased. They have the gas mask I was wearing. They have my statement - but I'll be required to stay on for the inquiry...'

'Inquiry?'