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2024-10-29 19:42:56Day Two
0800 Hours
The next morning Robert approached a clerk behind the Europcar desk.
"Guten Tag.”
It was a reminder that he was in the German-speaking part of Switzerland. "Guten Tag. Do you have a car available?"
"Yes, sir, we do. How long will you be needing it?" Good question. An hour? A month? Maybe a year or two? "I'm not sure."
"Do you plan to return the car to this airport?"
"Possibly."
The clerk looked at him strangely. "Very well. Will you fill out these papers, please?" Robert paid for the car with the special black credit card General Hilliard had given him. The clerk examined it, perplexed, then said, "Excuse me." He disappeared into an office, and when he returned, Robert asked, "Any problem?"
"No, sir. None at all."
The car was a gray Opel Omega. Robert got onto the airport highway and headed for downtown Zurich. He enjoyed Switzerland. It was one of the most beautiful countries in the world. Years earlier he had skied there. In more recent times, he had carried out assignments there, liaising with Espionage Abteilung, the Swiss intelligence agency. During World War II, the agency had been organized into three bureaus: D, P, and I, covering Germany, France, and Italy, respectively. Now its main purpose was related to detecting undercover espionage operations conducted within the various UN organizations in Geneva. Robert had friends in Espionage Abteilung, but he remembered General Hilliard's words: "You're not to get in touch with any of them."
The drive into the city took twenty-five minutes. Robert reached the Dübendorf downtown exit ramp and headed for the Dolder Grand Hotel. It was exactly as he remem- bered it: an overgrown Swiss château with turrets, stately and imposing, surrounded by greenery and overlooking Lake Zurich. He parked the car and walked into the lobby. On the left was the reception desk.
"Guten Tag. "
"Guten Tag. Haben Sie ein Zimmer für eine Nacht?" "Ja. Wie möchten Sie bezahlen?"
"Mit Kreditkarte." The black and white credit card that General Hilliard had given him. Robert asked for a map of Switzerland and was escorted to a comfortable room in the new wing of the hotel. It had a small balcony that overlooked the lake. Robert stood there, breathing in the crisp, autumn air, thinking about the task that lay ahead of him.
He had nothing to go on. Not one damned thing. All the factors to the equation of his assignment were completely unknown. The name of the tour company. The number of passengers. Their names and whereabouts. "Are the witnesses all in Switzerland?" "That's our problem. We have no idea where they are, or who they are." And it wasn't enough to find some of the witnesses. "You must find every one of them." The only information he had was the place and date: Uetendorf, Sunday, October 14.
He needed a handle, something to grab onto.
If he remembered correctly, all-day tour buses left from only two major cities: Zurich and Geneva. Robert opened a desk drawer and took out the bulky Telefonbuch. I should look under M, for miracle, Robert thought. There were more than half a dozen tour companies listed: Sunshine Tours, Swisstour, Tour Service, Touralpino, Tourisma Reisen... He would have to check each of them. He copied down the addresses of all the companies and drove to the offices of the nearest one listed.
There were two clerks behind the counter taking care of tourists. When one of them was free, Robert said, "Excuse me. My wife was on one of your tours last Sunday, and she left her purse on the bus. I think she got excited because she saw the weather balloon that crashed near Uetendorf."
The clerk frowned. "Es tut mir viel leid. You must be mistaken. Our tours do not go near Uetendorf."
"Oh. Sorry." Strike one.
The next stop promised to be more fruitful.
"Do your tours go to Uetendorf?"
"Oh, ja." The clerk smiled. "Our tours go everywhere in Switzerland. They are the most scenic. We have a tour to Zermatt-the Tell Special. There is also the Glacier Express and the Palm Express. The Great Circle Tour leaves in fifteen-"
"Did you have a tour Sunday that stopped to watch that weather balloon that crashed? I know my wife was late getting back to the hotel and-"
The clerk behind the counter said indignantly, "We take great pride in the fact that our tours are never late. We make no unscheduled stops."
"Then one of your buses didn't stop to look at that weather balloon?"
"Absolutely not."
"Thank you."-Strike two.
The third office Robert visited was located at Bahnhof- platz, and the sign outside said Sunshine Tours. Robert walked up to the counter. "Good afternoon. I wanted to ask you about one of your tour buses. I heard that a weather balloon crashed near Uetendorf and that your driver stopped for half an hour so the passengers could look at it.
"No, no. He only stopped for fifteen minutes. We have very strict schedules."
Home run!
"What was your interest in this, did you say?" Robert pulled out one of the identification cards that had been given him. "I'm a reporter," Robert said earnestly, "and I'm doing a story for Travel and Leisure magazine on how efficient the buses in Switzerland are, compared with other countries. I wonder if I might interview your driver?"
"That would make a very interesting article. Very inter- esting, indeed. We Swiss pride ourselves on our efficiency."
"And that pride is well deserved," Robert assured him.
"Would the name of our company be mentioned?"
"Prominently."
The clerk smiled. "Well, then I see no harm."
"Could I speak with him now?"
"This is his day off." He wrote a name on a piece of paper.
Robert Bellamy read it upside down. Hans Beckerman.
The clerk added an address. "He lives in Kappel. That's a small village about forty kilometers from Zurich. You should be able to find him at home now."
Robert Bellamy took the paper. "Thank you very much. By the way," Robert said, "just so we have all the facts for the story, do you have a record of how many tickets you sold for that particular tour?"
"Of course. We keep records of all our tours. Just a moment." He picked up a ledger underneath the counter and flipped a page. "Ah, here we are. Sunday. Hans Beckerman. There were seven passengers. He drove the Iveco that day, the small bus."
Seven unknown passengers and the driver. Robert took a stab in the dark. "Would you happen to have the names of those passengers?"
"Sir, people come in off the street, buy their ticket, and take the tour. We don't ask for identification." Wonderful. "Thank you again." Robert started toward the door.
The clerk called out, "I hope you will send us a copy of the article."
"Absolutely," Robert said.
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When I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling came over me. I rushed up and down the stairs, trying every door and peering out of every window I could find, but after a little the conviction of my helplessness overpowered all other feelings. When I look back after a few hours I think I must have been mad for the time, for I behaved much as a rat does in a trap. When, however, the conviction had come to me that I was helpless I sat down quietly, as quietly as I have ever done anything in my life, and began to think over what was best to be done. I am thinking still, and as yet have come to no definite conclusion. Of one thing only am I certain. That it is no use making my ideas known to the Count. He knows well that I am imprisoned, and as he has done it himself, and has doubtless his own motives for it, he would only deceive me if I trusted him fully with the facts. So far as I can see, my only plan will be to keep my knowledge and my fears to myself, and my eyes open. I a
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When I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling came over me. I rushed up and down the stairs, trying every door and peering out of every window I could find, but after a little the conviction of my helplessness overpowered all other feelings. When I look back after a few hours I think I must have been mad for the time, for I behaved much as a rat does in a trap. When, however, the conviction had come to me that I was helpless I sat down quietly, as quietly as I have ever done anything in my life, and began to think over what was best to be done. I am thinking still, and as yet have come to no definite conclusion. Of one thing only am I certain. That it is no use making my ideas known to the Count. He knows well that I am imprisoned, and as he has done it himself, and has doubtless his own motives for it, he would only deceive me if I trusted him fully with the facts. So far as I can see, my only plan will be to keep my knowledge and my fears to myself, and my eyes open. I a
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5 May.--I must have been asleep, for certainly if I had been fully awake I must have noticed the approach of such a remarkable place. In the gloom the courtyard looked of considerable size, and as several dark ways led from it under great round arches, it perhaps seemed bigger than it really is. I have not yet been able to see it by daylight.When the caleche stopped, the driver jumped down and held out his hand to assist me to alight. Again I could not but notice his prodigious strength. His hand actually seemed like a steel vice that could have crushed mine if he had chosen. Then he took my traps, and placed them on the ground beside me as I stood close to a great door, old and studded with large iron nails, and set in a projecting doorway of massive stone. I could see even in the dim light that the stone was massively carved, but that the carving had been much worn by time and weather. As I stood, the driver jumped again into his seat and shook the reins. The horses started forward
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Chapter 63
5 May. The Castle.--The gray of the morning has passed, and the sun is high over the distant horizon, which seems jagged, whether with trees or hills I know not, for it is so far off that big things and little are mixed.I am not sleepy, and, as I am not to be called till I awake, naturally I write till sleep comes.There are many odd things to put down, and, lest who reads them may fancy that I dined too well before I left Bistritz, let me put down my dinner exactly.I dined on what they called "robber steak"--bits of bacon, onion, and beef, seasoned with red pepper, and strung on sticks, and roasted over the fire, in simple style of the London cat's meat!The wine was Golden Mediasch, which produces a queer sting on the tongue, which is, however, not disagreeable.I had only a couple of glasses of this, and nothing else.When I got on the coach, the driver had not taken his seat, and I saw him talking to the landlady.They were evidently talking of me, for every now and then they lo
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Chapter 62
5 May. The Castle.--The gray of the morning has passed, and the sun is high over the distant horizon, which seems jagged, whether with trees or hills I know not, for it is so far off that big things and little are mixed.I am not sleepy, and, as I am not to be called till I awake, naturally I write till sleep comes.There are many odd things to put down, and, lest who reads them may fancy that I dined too well before I left Bistritz, let me put down my dinner exactly.I dined on what they called "robber steak"--bits of bacon, onion, and beef, seasoned with red pepper, and strung on sticks, and roasted over the fire, in simple style of the London cat's meat!The wine was Golden Mediasch, which produces a queer sting on the tongue, which is, however, not disagreeable.I had only a couple of glasses of this, and nothing else.When I got on the coach, the driver had not taken his seat, and I saw him talking to the landlady.They were evidently talking of me, for every now and then they lo
