The Doomsday Conspiracy by Sidney Sheldon Read Free Book Online Page A

the car and walked into the restaurant. A waitress was clearing a table near the door.
    "Entschuldigen Sie bitte, Fraulein. Welche R ichtung ist das Haus von Herr Beckerman?"
    "Ja." She pointed down the road.
    "An der Kirche rechts."
    "Danke."
    Robert turned right at the church and drove up to a modest two-story stone house with a ceramic tiled roof. He got out of the car and walked up to the door. He could see no bell, and knocked. A heavyset woman with a faint mustache answered the door.
    "Ja?"
    "I'm sorry to bother you. Is Mr. Beckerman in?" She eyed him suspiciously.
    "What do you want with him?"
    Robert gave her a winning smile.
    "You must be Mrs. Beckerman."
    He pulled out his reporter's identification card.
    "I'm doing a magazine article on Swiss bus drivers, and your husband was Page 30
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    recommended to my magazine as having one of the finest safety records in the country."
    She brightened and said proudly, "My Hans is an excellent driver."
    "That's what everyone tells me, Mrs. Beckerman. I would like to do an interview with him."
    "An interview with my Hans for a magazine?" She was flustered.
    "That is very exciting. Come in, please." She led Robert into a small, meticulously neat living room.
    "Wait here, bitte.
    I will get Hans."
    The house had a low, beamed ceiling, dark wooden floors, and plain wooden furniture. There was a small stone fireplace and lace curtains at the windows.
    Robert stood there thinking. This was not only his best lead, it was his only lead.
    "People come in off the street, buy their ticket, and take the tour. We don't ask for identification. -. -,, There's no place to go from here, Robert thought grimly. If this doesn't work out, I can always place an ad: Will the seven bus passengers who saw a weather balloon crash Sunday please assemble in my hotel room at oh twelve hundred tomorrow. Breakfast will be served.
    A thin, bald man appeared. His complexion was pale, and he wore a thick, black mustache that was startlingly out of keeping with the rest of his appearance.
    "Good afternoon, Herr?"
    "Smith. Good afternoon." Robert's voice was hearty.
    "I've certainly been looking forward to meeting you, Mr. Beckerman."
    "My wife tells me you are writing a story about bus drivers." He spoke with a heavy German accent.
    Robert smiled ingratiatingly.
    "That's right. My magazine is interested in your wonderful safety record and-"
    "Scheissdreck!" Beckerman said rudely.
    "You are interested in the thing that crashed yesterday afternoon, no?" Robert managed to look abashed.
    "As a matter of fact, yes, I am interested in discussing that too."
    "Then why do you not come out and say so? Sit down."
    "Thank you." Robert took a seat on the couch. Beckerman said, "I am sorry I cannot offer you a drink, but we do not keep schnapps in the Page 31
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    house anymore." He tapped his stomach.
    "Ulcers. The doctors cannot even give me drugs to relieve the pain. I am allergic to all of them."
    He sat down opposite Robert.
    "But you did not come here to talk about my health, eh? What is it you wish to know?"
    "I want to talk to you about the passengers who were on your bus Sunday when you stopped near Uetendorf at the site of the weather-balloon crash." Hans Beckerman was staring at him.
    "Weather balloon? What weather balloon? What are you talking about?"
    "The balloon that-"
    "You mean the spaceship."
    It was Robert's turn to stare.
    "The ... spaceship?"
    "Ja, the flying saucer."
    It took a moment for the words to sink in. Robert felt a sudden chill.
    "Are you telling me that you saw a flying saucer?"
    "Ja. With dead bodies in it."
    "Yesterday, in the Swiss Alps, a NATO weather balloon crashed. There were some experimental military objects aboard the balloon that are highly secret." Robert tried hard to sound calm.
    "Mr. Beckerman, are you certain that what you saw was a flying saucer?"
    "Of course. What they call a UFO."
    "And there were dead