Gelignite (20 page)

He said to Feiffer with an effort, 'What do you want me to do?'

*

Auden patted his rifle. It was an AR-18 manufactured under licence from Colt by the Howa Company of Japan, one of the few exported, and Auden was very fond of it. He had spent an entire afternoon with it on the range at the last qualifying shoot and he thought he was very good with it. He patted it again and looked at Spencer's weapon. It was an AR-16, a carbine. Auden smiled at it condescendingly. The rear doors of the Emergency Unit's van were still closed. Inside, was the ammunition. Auden drew a bead through the telescopic sights on the figure moving about behind the ruined wall of the stone bell tower and held his breath.

He said quietly,'—Bang!'

*

O'Yee said, 'We know why he picked those people. He picked Wong because he knew his brother and he probably wanted to meet whoever was investigating the bombings. The fact that Wong's brother used to work at the quarry would have brought someone down.'

Feiffer nodded.

'—and Leung because he'd heard about him from Tam. And Tam told him about the cemetery and presumably about Conway Kan. Dien because he was co-owner in the cemetery, Matsu Lane because that was the headquarters of the funeral society that administered it. Us because he wanted immunity to be arranged. And that's all. The bridge blowing up was to convince us that he could make radio controlled bombs like the one he's got now—'

'Right.'

O'Yee said, 'I know it's right. Where does it get us?'

'What else did he do?'

'Nothing—He wrote us letters.'

'Saying what?'

'Saying that he was going to kill people—he was going to send bombs to them.'

'Right. And what else?'

'And that he was going to do it for political reasons.'

'Which was wrong.'

O'Yee said irritably, 'Right. Which was wrong. So what?'

'Then why do it? The one thing that everyone seems to have firmly fixed in their minds is that this bugger just doesn't make mistakes. So why say political when it wasn't?'

'How should I know! To keep it quiet? To—?'

Feiffer said thoughtfully, 'To keep it quiet.'

'I don't think I'd like it broadcast too loudly that I was in the process of blowing people up either!'

'But you don't blow people up.'

'—the point of which being?' The point of which being that he does.'

'—I don't follow.'

'No.'

O'Yee said, 'So tell me.'

Feiffer said, 'Hmm.' He asked the cemetery entrance thoughtfully, 'So just how did he expect to get away with it? —by being granted immunity.' He turned back to O'Yee, 'Correct?'

'Correct.'

'In that case it wouldn't matter who knew. So why try to keep it quiet?' He asked slowly, 'Or would it make it impossible for the police to recommend immunity if too many people knew about it?'

'You'll have to ask the Commander about that one—'

'I have asked the Commander. The Commander, not in so many words, gives me to understand that it'd be difficult but not necessarily impossible—'

'How the hell's Mendoza supposed to know that?'

'Bloody Mendoza knows everything, doesn't he?' He asked forcefully, 'Explain to me why it is that Mendoza's wandering about in that church in virtually full view when he knows there are people out here with guns? Tell me, why is that?'

'He knows they're not going to shoot—'

'Oh? Why aren't they going to shoot?'

O'Yee said, 'Well—well, because of the—of the bombs and —and the radio transmitter and—'

'More than that. For what reason of law or policy?'

'I don't know—because it isn't—because it isn't appropriate to the crime in progress—I don't know. What are you getting at?'

'Why is it that he's gone to endless trouble to make certain we can see him clearly? He's now walked backwards and forwards past that hole in the tower wall, since I've been counting, five times. He's showing himself. He doesn't expect to be shot. Now, why not?'

O'Yee said, 'Do we know if he's armed?'

Feiffer said, 'According to the regulations, the police are only justified in opening fire when life is endangered.' He said, "The dead don't come under that heading.' Feiffer said, 'So, this time, he's only threatening to blow up the dead—a few bones.' He said in an odd voice, 'Yet surely he'd achieve the same object if he threatened someone living—if he had someone alive as a hostage—surely he could get the same immunity if the person was important enough?—even if he or she wasn't. Or if he had a
group
of people threatened' He asked O'Yee, 'Do you see what I'm getting at?'

O'Yee said tersely, 'Go on.' He glanced out at the church and felt a wave of deep hatred pass through him, 'Go on.'

Feiffer said, 'But he's chosen the dead on purpose. He's chosen them because he knows we won't shoot him out of hand because it isn't appropriate.' He said, 'The fact that he's killed people in the past—or is
alleged
to have killed people in the past—isn't pertinent to the crime in progress now.' He asked again, 'So why
political
at the bottom of those letters?'

O'Yee said, To keep it quiet from the people who have relatives buried here. To keep the immunity and the money strictly between the people who are frightened about what people will think about them if they don't pay—Kan and the funeral society and the rest of them—and the police; the police being the people who are concerned to see that the victims of criminals don't kill the criminals—'

Feiffer said, 'You mentioned that if the Chinese coppers here thought those rifles were loaded they'd kill Auden and Spencer—yes?'

O'Yee nodded.

Feiffer said, 'If the relatives of the—what, three? three and a half—thousand people buried here knew about Mendoza and his bombs what would
they
do?'

O'Yee said, 'They'd kill him.'

Feiffer said carefully, 'The whole point about immunity is that it doesn't actually deny that a crime has been
committed
, only that a particular
person
who committed it is going to be held responsible for it in a court of law.' He said, 'A particular
person
. . .' He said, 'I wonder . . .' He said to O'Yee in an odd voice, 'He's used us, hasn't he? I mean, the police. He's
used
us. Hasn't he?'

'Yes . . .'

'But he has, hasn't he? Used us? I mean, completely! We've been his obedient little helpers all the way along the line—everything he wanted. We've
helped
him. We have, haven't we? Even now?—especially now. That's true, isn't it?'

O'Yee said, 'What are you getting at?'

Feiffer did not reply.

O'Yee said, 'All right, so he's a coward. He's terrified of—' He said, 'But we can't open fire on him—he's absolutely right!' He glanced at Feiffer's face, 'Isn't he?'

Feiffer paused. There was a faint smile on his face.

'We can't—'

Feiffer said, 'I've got a riddle for you. Listen. What do you get if you take a Chinese cemetery loaded with bombs, a Portuguese bomber with a hand-held transmitter who doesn't believe in God or superstition—' (He said in parenthesis, 'If he doesn't have any belief in other people's religion it's a fair bet he doesn't have any of his own.') '—a Detective Chief Inspector with a reasonably devious mind who's been left temporarily in charge, a series of letters with one word wrong in them each time and, finally, a Special Branch man who smokes cigars?' He asked, 'Well? Tell me. What do you get?'

'What are you talking about?'

'What you get, if the Portuguese bomber who doesn't believe in God or superstition isn't very careful indeed, is one arrested Portuguese bomber!' He said, satisfied, 'So let's get on with it, shall we?' He went towards lie nearest police car and reached inside for the radiotelephone. He said aloud to himself, 'First, the Special Branch man—' He pressed the transmit button on the radio and asked to be patched through to Humphrey Ho. He said into the microphone, 'Urgent.' He glanced back at O'Yee still standing by the main entrance and called back, 'And for God's sake, don't say, "I hope you know what you're doing!"'

O'Yee shook his head.

A voice at the other end of the radio connection said, 'Hotel Baker One, this is Sierra Baker One, Chief Inspector Ho—'

The enthusiastic look had gone from Feiffer's face. It had been replaced by something harder. He said decisively into the radio, 'Ho? Harry Feiffer. I want a favour.'

O'Yee glanced across the cemetery towards the ruined church. He looked at his watch. It was 3.30 pm.

O'Yee tried to light a cigarette. He had a strange feeling at the back of his neck and spine, like a tingling. It made his hands shake.

Humphrey Ho said incredulously, 'Ye Gods, Harry, you can't possibly be serious—!!'

O'Yee said, aghast, 'A
what
? Ho's laying on a
what
?' He said, 'Do you mean to say you got in touch with Ho and ordered him to—' He said unbelievingly, 'Do you mean a full scale
riot
?'

Feiffer said, 'Hmm.' He looked pleased with himself.

O'Yee said, 'You must be crazy! What's a
riot
supposed to do?'

'It's supposed to stop Mendoza.'

'—a riot!' O'Yee said suddenly, 'They won't come.' He shook his head. 'They won't come.' He thought of the beach at Hop Pei Cove. 'No.' He said to Feiffer a little less loudly, 'They won't come.' He sounded relieved, 'No. Thank God. That'd be the end of you, Harry—if they did. The Commander'd have your balls for breakfast!'

Feiffer said, 'Don't worry about it.' He began walking unhurriedly in the direction of the cemetery entrance.

'Where are you going?' O'Yee said, 'Listen! They won't come! Forget it!'

'OK.'

'Don't be so smug! They won't come! Leave it!' He almost pleaded, 'Look, just pay him the money and—'

Feiffer paused at the entrance. He said softly to O'Yee, 'All going well, I'll see you a little later.' He went through the entrance, past the police cars, and began walking at the same easy pace across the graveyard to the ruined church on the hill.

O'Yee hesitated. He glanced over at Spencer and Auden. He looked down the street. No one was coming. He knew they wouldn't. Not the Chinese.

Not them.

O'Yee was in charge. He looked around anxiously.

*

Mendoza said, smiling, 'How nice, they've let you come for a chat.' He glanced at the dog by his side in the dank little church—all the windows were smashed and he had a clear view of the rows of Chinese tombs and headstones from one and the police and their cars from the other—and said patronisingly, 'Mr Feiffer, isn't it? We have met, but you probably don't recall—' He left the sentence unfinished and smiled again'

It was a very small church, smaller inside than it seemed to be from outside. There were a few rows of broken and rotting pews left in place and a stone lump where the altar had been, even a small oak harmonium to one side covered in dust and masonry chippings. There was a little curtain separating the entrance to the bell tower. It was red, a thick material gone frayed and rotten with age. Small animals had been in the church: there were dried droppings on the flagstoned floor. Mendoza said urbanely, 'Mr Feiffer . . . ?'

Feiffer looked at him. He saw the walkie-talkie style transmitter in Mendoza's hand. In his other hand there was something else. It was the battery powered toothbrush. Mendoza said, 'If you've quite finished your little inspection, I'd like to have a little chat about the method of delivering the money.' He said pleasantly, 'If you don't find it too inconvenient.'

Feiffer nodded. He went to one of the windows—the one facing the street—and looked out.

'It's all for show.' He patted the dog, became bored, and sat at the end of one of the pews. He said, 'The rifles aren't loaded.' The dog came up and sat down docilely on the flagstones beside him. Mendoza ,said, 'No need to feel so thwarted, Harry.' He asked, 'I may call you Harry, may I?'

Feiffer looked at him. He didn't like what he saw. 'Where's the gun?'

'What gun?'

'Your gun. The Mauser.' He said, 'One 7.63mm Mauser broomhandle automatic pistol, serial number 551296. Where is it?'

Mendoza said, 'You've checked the Arms Licence!'

'I checked the Arms Licence. Where's the weapon?'

Mendoza smiled. He nodded to the dog and then patted him on the head. He thought he had been right to pick Feiffer as the one to deal with on the lower level. He was thorough. If you wanted something from someone, thoroughness was another way of saying slavish predictability. He had been, as usual, utterly right. Mendoza said, 'At the quarry, of course. It's not supposed to be removed from the premises.' He said, 'Would I do anything illegal? It's still at the quarry.' He glanced surreptitiously out of the window at the police cars and repeated, 'It's not here.' He asked, 'Did you expect it would be?'

'I'm in two minds about it'

'Send someone to the quarry to check.'

'The security safe where the gun is kept is locked. You've got the keys.'

'So I do!' Mendoza said, 'I threw them away.' He glanced again at the cars and police a distance away at the cemetery entrance and said quickly, 'I haven't got the gun. OK?'

'No, it isn't OK.'

'Well what do you expect me to do about it?'

Feiffer said, 'I expect you to give me the keys so I can send someone around to verify that the weapon is where it's supposed to be.'

'I threw the keys away!'

'Did you?'

'Yes!' The dog got up and moved forward restively. Mendoza restrained him, 'I threw them away.' He said, 'I haven't got a gun. All right?'

Feiffer said evenly, 'I take it that the transmitter in your hand is the detonating device?'

Mendoza nodded. He smiled.

'And the other thing—just what purpose does that serve?' It was the battery toothbrush. It seemed to have been amended in some way—Feiffer was no expert on electric toothbrushes, but somehow it didn't look right—it was screwed onto a length of wood with two clamps on it. Feiffer said, 'Well?'

Mendoza smiled at him. Mendoza said, 'You'll probably never know.'

'What does that mean?' Feiffer walked unhurriedly towards the harmonium and ran his hand along it. It was thick with dust and there was rot in it. A section of the veneer came off in his hand. 'Well? What does that mean?'