Read Online Terminal by Colin Forbes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Colin Forbes
Tags: Fiction, Action & Adventure
Ads: Link
out any more about this terminal business, what it means, or is it just another rumour about the Gold Club?" '
`Gold Club? What's that?'
`Well, it doesn't really exist officially. I gather that it comprises a group of bankers who have certain views on national policy. The group is known as the Gold Club...'
`And your boss belongs to it?'
`On the contrary. He doesn't agree with their views, whatever they may be. The Gold Club is based in Zurich. `Zurich? Not Berne?' he probed.
`Definitely Zurich...'
`Who is your boss?' he enquired casually.
`I'm talking too much about my job...'
`I could find out so easily,' he pointed out. 'I'd only have to phone you at work and you'd say, "Office of..." There are other ways. You know that.'
`I suppose you're right,' she agreed. In any case, it really doesn't matter. I work for Dr Max Nagel. Now, does terminal mean a railway station? That's the current thinking...'
`They got it right first time. More than that I don't know.'
`A railway station — not an airport ?' she persisted. 'We do have an airport at Basle.'
`Positively nothing to do with airports,' he assured her.
He stood up and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He offered to clear the table but she shook her head and stood close to him, coiling her hands round his neck. As they kissed he wrapped his arms round her body and felt the buttons down the back of her blouse.
`That Gold Club,' he whispered. 'Something to do with gold bullion?'
`No. I told you. It's just a name. You know how wealthy the Zurich bankers are. It's a good name for them...'
He unfastened the top two buttons and slipped his hand inside, searching for the splayed strap. His exploring fingers found nothing. He undid two more buttons and realized that beneath the blouse she was naked. She had stripped herself down while he trudged through the snow from the station.
He enjoyed himself in the bedroom but when the aftermath came he began to worry like mad about what she'd said. Was Basle the worst place in the world he could have come to escape? Had he wandered into the lion's pit? He'd have to keep under cover. He'd also watch the newspapers — especially those from Geneva, Berne and Zurich, plus the locals. Something might show up in them, something which would show him the way — the way to escape the horror.
Eight
London, 13 February 1984. 6 ? . The atmosphere inside Tweed's office at 10 am was one of appalled mystification. Besides Tweed, the other people gathered in the office included Howard, who had just returned from a weekend in the country, Monica, the middle-aged spinster of uncertain age Tweed called his 'right arm', and Mason, summoned urgently from Vienna on an apparent whim of Tweed's.
The 'object' Mason had brought with him and which he had purchased from Franz Oswald, was now locked away in Tweed's steel filing cabinet. No one had wanted to continue staring at that for long.
Howard, wearing the small check suit he kept for the country, was furious. He was convinced Tweed had exploited his absence to set all sorts of dangerous wheels in motion. To add insult to injury, Tweed had just returned from Downing Street where he had remained closeted with the Prime Minister for over an hour.
`Did you ask her for that document?' he enquired coldly.
Tweed glanced at the letter headed 10 Downing Street which he had deliberately left on his desk. It gave him full powers to conduct the investigation personally. There was even a codicil promising him immediate access to her presence at any time there were developments.
`No,' replied Tweed, standing like the rest and polishing his glasses with a shabby silk handkerchief. 'It was her idea. I didn't argue, naturally..
`Naturally,' Howard repeated sarcastically. 'So, now you've got the whole place in an uproar what's the next move?'
`I need outside help on this one.' Tweed looped his glasses over his ears and blinked at Howard. 'As you know, we're fully stretched. We have to get help where we
`Gold Club? What's that?'
`Well, it doesn't really exist officially. I gather that it comprises a group of bankers who have certain views on national policy. The group is known as the Gold Club...'
`And your boss belongs to it?'
`On the contrary. He doesn't agree with their views, whatever they may be. The Gold Club is based in Zurich. `Zurich? Not Berne?' he probed.
`Definitely Zurich...'
`Who is your boss?' he enquired casually.
`I'm talking too much about my job...'
`I could find out so easily,' he pointed out. 'I'd only have to phone you at work and you'd say, "Office of..." There are other ways. You know that.'
`I suppose you're right,' she agreed. In any case, it really doesn't matter. I work for Dr Max Nagel. Now, does terminal mean a railway station? That's the current thinking...'
`They got it right first time. More than that I don't know.'
`A railway station — not an airport ?' she persisted. 'We do have an airport at Basle.'
`Positively nothing to do with airports,' he assured her.
He stood up and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He offered to clear the table but she shook her head and stood close to him, coiling her hands round his neck. As they kissed he wrapped his arms round her body and felt the buttons down the back of her blouse.
`That Gold Club,' he whispered. 'Something to do with gold bullion?'
`No. I told you. It's just a name. You know how wealthy the Zurich bankers are. It's a good name for them...'
He unfastened the top two buttons and slipped his hand inside, searching for the splayed strap. His exploring fingers found nothing. He undid two more buttons and realized that beneath the blouse she was naked. She had stripped herself down while he trudged through the snow from the station.
He enjoyed himself in the bedroom but when the aftermath came he began to worry like mad about what she'd said. Was Basle the worst place in the world he could have come to escape? Had he wandered into the lion's pit? He'd have to keep under cover. He'd also watch the newspapers — especially those from Geneva, Berne and Zurich, plus the locals. Something might show up in them, something which would show him the way — the way to escape the horror.
Eight
London, 13 February 1984. 6 ? . The atmosphere inside Tweed's office at 10 am was one of appalled mystification. Besides Tweed, the other people gathered in the office included Howard, who had just returned from a weekend in the country, Monica, the middle-aged spinster of uncertain age Tweed called his 'right arm', and Mason, summoned urgently from Vienna on an apparent whim of Tweed's.
The 'object' Mason had brought with him and which he had purchased from Franz Oswald, was now locked away in Tweed's steel filing cabinet. No one had wanted to continue staring at that for long.
Howard, wearing the small check suit he kept for the country, was furious. He was convinced Tweed had exploited his absence to set all sorts of dangerous wheels in motion. To add insult to injury, Tweed had just returned from Downing Street where he had remained closeted with the Prime Minister for over an hour.
`Did you ask her for that document?' he enquired coldly.
Tweed glanced at the letter headed 10 Downing Street which he had deliberately left on his desk. It gave him full powers to conduct the investigation personally. There was even a codicil promising him immediate access to her presence at any time there were developments.
`No,' replied Tweed, standing like the rest and polishing his glasses with a shabby silk handkerchief. 'It was her idea. I didn't argue, naturally..
`Naturally,' Howard repeated sarcastically. 'So, now you've got the whole place in an uproar what's the next move?'
`I need outside help on this one.' Tweed looped his glasses over his ears and blinked at Howard. 'As you know, we're fully stretched. We have to get help where we
Similar Books
