The Golden Gate (16 page)

Revson sat beside the girl. She looked at him coldly.
He said: 'What's the matter with you?' She remained silent. 'Don't tell me. Somebody's been turning you against me.'
'Yes. You. I don't like killers. Especially I don't like killers who plan their next murders cold-bloodedly in advance.'
'Come, come. That's putting it a bit strongly."
'Is it? Cyanide guns? Lethal pens? Shot through the back, I should imagine.'
'My, my, we are bitter. Three things. First, those weapons are used only in acute emergency and then only to save lives, to stop bad people killing good people, although perhaps you would rather have it the other way round. Second, it doesn't matter to a dead man where he has been shot. Third, you have been eavesdropping.'
'I was invited to listen.'
'People make mistakes. Clearly, they invited the wrong person. I could be flippant and say I owe a duty to the taxpayer, but I'm not in the mood.' April looked at the hard face, listened to the voice from which all trace of the normal bantering warmth had vanished and realized with apprehension that indeed he was not in the mood. 'I have a job to do, you don't know what you're talking about, so we'll dispense with your moral strictures. I assume you brought the equipment I asked for. Where is it?'
'I don't know. Dr O'Hare does. For some reason he didn't want me to know in case we were questioned and the ambulance searched.'
'For some reason! For an obvious and excellent reason. O'Hare is no fool.' A flush touched the pale cheeks but he ignored it. 'All of it?'
'So I believe." She tried to speak stiffly.
'Never mind your wounded pride. And don't forget you're in this up to your lovely neck. Hagenbach have any instructions for me?"
'Yes. But he didn't tell me. He told Dr O'Hare.' Her voice was acid or bitter or both. 'I suppose that makes Mr Hagenbach no fool either.'
'Don't take those things so much to heart.' He patted her hand and smiled warmly. 'You've done an excellent job. Thank you.'
She tried a tentative smile. 'Maybe you are a little bit human after all, Mr Revson.'
'Paul. One never knows.' He smiled again, rose and left. At least, he thought, he was semi-human enough not to inflict further damage upon her amour propre by telling her that the last little bit of by-play had been purely for the benefit of Branson who had momentarily lost interest in the screen-he was not then on camera-and was casting a speculative look at them. Not that that necessarily meant anything suspicious or sinister. Branson was much given to casting speculative looks at everybody. April was beautiful and he may well have thought that she was wasting this beauty on the wrong company.
Revson sat on a seat not far from Branson and watched the last twenty minutes of the broadcast. The inter-cutting between the Presidential group and the top of the south tower had been most skilfully done and the overall impact was all that Branson could ever have wished. Branson watched it intently. His face betrayed no particular sign of satisfaction, but then Branson's face registered precisely what he wanted it to and was no mirror of his inner thoughts and feelings. When the broadcast finished Branson rose and stopped briefly by Revson's chair.
'Revson, isn't it?' Revson nodded. 'And how does all this strike you?'
'Just the same as it strikes a million other people, I guess.' This was it, Revson thought, this is one part of his Achilles' heel. Branson knew he was a genius but he had no objection to people saying so. 'A feeling of total unreality. This just can't be happening.'
'But it is, isn't it? A very satisfactory beginning, don't you think?'
'I can quote?'
'Certainly. Call it an exclusive if you want. How do you see the scenario developing?'
'Just as you have programmed it. I can't see anything to stop you. You have them, most unfortunately, at your total mercy.'
'Most unfortunately?'
'What else? I don't want to overdo the American citizen bit and although you may be a master criminal, a genius in your own immoral fashion, to me you're still a crook, a crook so bent as to make a spiral staircase look like a fireman's ladder.'
'I rather like that. I may quote you in turn?' Branson seemed genuinely gratified. One could hardly have called him thin-skinned.
There's no verbal copyright.
'Alas, universal disapproval, not to say disapprobation, would seem to be my lot.' Branson didn't sound too unhappy about it. That's a most unusual camera you have there.'
'Almost, but not quite unique.'
'May I have a look at it?'
'If you wish. But if you want to examine it for the reasons I imagine you want to examine it then you're about four hours too late.'
'What is that supposed to mean?'
'It means that your very able lieutenant, Van Effen, has the same nasty suspicious mind as you have. He has already taken my camera apart.'
'No radios? No offensive weapons?'
'Look for yourself.'
That won't be necessary now.'
'A question. I don't want to inflate your already super-expanded ego-'
'Don't you think you might be taking chances, Revson?'
'No. You have the reputation of being a non-violent criminal.' Revson waved his arm. 'Why all this? You could have made a fortune in any business you cared to enter.'
Branson sighed. 'I tried it. Business is so dull, don't you think? This at least gives me the opportunity to exercise most of my capacities.' He paused. 'You're a bit odd, yourself. A cameraman. You don't look, act or speak like one.'
'How's a cameraman supposed to look, act and speak? You look in the mirror when you shave. Do you see a criminal? I see a Wall Street Vice-president.'
"Touche. What's your paper or magazine?'
'Freelance, but I'm accredited to the London Times'
'But you're American?"
'News has no boundaries. Not any longer. I prefer to work the foreign beat, where the action is.' Revson smiled faintly. 'At least, until today. That used to mean South-East Asia. Not any more. Europe and the Middle East.'
'So what are you doing here?'
'Pure happenstance. Just passing through, you might say, from New York to a special assignment in China.'
'When are you due to leave for there?'
Tomorrow.'
Tomorrow? You'll want to get off the bridge tonight. As I've said, members of the media are free to leave whenever they choose.'
'You, Branson, must be out of your mind.'
'China can wait?'
'China can wait. Unless, of course, you're planning to kidnap Chairman Mao.'
Branson smiled the smile that never touched his eyes and walked away.
Revson, camera poised, stood outside the open front right door of the rear coach. He said: 'Do you mind?'
Chrysler turned round. He looked at Revson in some surprise, then smiled. "Why me for this honour?'
'Because my camera is tired of taking photographs of Branson and the assorted big-wigs. Mind? I'm now compiling a rogues' gallery of Branson's henchmen.' Revson smiled to remove offence. 'You're Chrysler, aren't you? The telecommunications expert?'
'If that's what they call me, yes.'
Revson took two or three shots, thanked Chrysler, and moved away. For good measure and local colour, he took some more pictures of Branson's men. They all seemed to have been infected by Branson's massive self-confidence an^' cheerfully, in some cases almost eagerly, acceded to Revson's requests. After the last of those shots he crossed to the west side of the bridge, sat on the crash barrier and lit a ruminative cigarette.
After a few minutes O'Hare, hands thrust deep in his white coat, came strolling by. Hundreds of pictures and thousands of words of reports had already been dispatched by the south tower and there were at least twenty of the media men - and women-who now had nothing better to do who were strolling aimlessly up and down the centre of the bridge. Revson took a couple of routine shots of O'Hare, who came and sat beside him.
He said: 'I saw you talking to Miss Wednesday. Suffering from a degree of pique, is she?'
'Our April could be happier. You have it all?"
'Both weapons and instructions.'
'Everything I asked for is camouflaged?'
'I would say so. The two pens are clipped to my medical clipboard, there for anyone to see. We doctors are models of efficiency. The gun with the tipped bullets is in the cardiac arrest unit. This is wax-sealed and the seal has to be broken before the unit can be opened. The unit is sealed. Not that it would matter very much if it were opened. The gun lies in a false bottom and you have to know how to open it. I mean, it can't be done by accident. You have to know. I know.'
'You seem to be positively enjoying yourself, Doctor.'
'Well, yes. It makes a change from treating ingrowing toe-nails.'
'I hope you'll enjoy coming under the heading of "Classified" for the rest of your life. How come you carry those peculiar units in your hospital?'
We don't. But your director appears to be on very close terms with his counterpart in the CIA. I tell you, we were completely taken over by experts.'
That means you're double classified for life. My cord and containers?' O'Hare seemed a mile away.
'My cord and containers?' O'Hare returned to the world.
'Modesty compels me to admit that I came up with this one. Four containers. Empty. Lab. samples printed on the outside. Who's going to question that? The cord is wrapped round a square wooden framework with two hooks and two lures attached to one end.'
'You're going fishing over the side of the bridge?"
'I'm going fishing. It can get quite boring out here, you know."
'Something tells me it's not going to be that way long. I suppose it's unnecessary to ask you about the nerve gas?'
O'Hare smiled broadly. 'I'd rather you did, actually.'
'Must you speak English English?'
'I told you. London educated. It's an aerosol can, clamped just above my note-desk. Anyone can see it. Product, ostensibly, of a nationally-known aerosol company. People called Prestige Fragrance of New York. Rather charming, really. The colour, I mean. Forest brown, I believe. A scaled-down version of their seven-ounce can. Freon pressure three times normal. Effective range ten feet.'
'Do the Prestige people know about this?'
'Heavens, no. The CIA are not overly concerned with patent rights.' O'Hare smiled, almost dreamily. 'On the back of the can it says "fragrant and piquant" and "keep away from children" On the front it says "Sandalwood". Can't you just see Branson or any of his minions who don't know what sandalwood smells like giving themselves an exploratory whiff'
'No, I can't. I'll pick up the pens later tonight Now, what were Hagenbach's instructions?'
'Hagenbach and company. A committee meeting and an agreed decision. The Vice-President was there, along with Admiral Newson, General Carter, Hendrix, Quarry and Milton.'
'And yourself and April Wednesday.'
'We plebs know our place. Total silence on our part. First off, there's no possibility of electrifying the bridge. Nothing to do with the possibility of a President or king sitting where we are now and having their pants roasted. The voltage could be produced, but not the wattage. Not for umpteen thousand tons of steel. Besides, the potential victims would have to be earthed. A bird can perch in perfect safety on a high-tension wire.
'Second piece of expert advice was about laser beams. You wondered if they would slice through the canvas wrapping of the explosive belts. Certainly, say the boys in Berkeley. But the tremendous heat generated when a laser beam strikes a solid object would turn the bridge wire-I think that's what they called it - in the detonator white-hot immediately.'
'Poof?'
'As you so rightly observe, "poof". Four things they did agree on, however.
'A submarine they can provide. Apparently, it will call for some critical underwater navigation to get there and a fair bit of fancy juggling to keep the boat in position once it gets there. Apart from the tides there are lots of very nasty currents in the Golden Gate. But the Admiral reckons he has just the man for the job. And in the absence of any instructions to the contrary they propose to park this boat under the front coach, your press coach, that is."
'My omission. They're right, of course.' Revson glanced idly round but no one was paying any undue attention to them except General Cartland, a physical fitness fanatic who was counter-marching briskly to and fro along the central section of the bridge. He gave them a keen glance in passing but that signified nothing, General Cartland invariably gave everyone a keen glance in passing. Hansen, the energy czar, with the excess nervous energy to burn, was also engaged in the same exercise, but his attention was devoted exclusively to the toes of his shoes. He did not walk with Cartland. There was no antipathy between.the two men: they simply had nothing in common.
O'Hare continued. They agreed with your suggestion that the south tower be occupied. As you didn't specify whether it was the east or west section which should be occupied, they're a bit in the dark. The meteorological forecast is rather good. Heavy fog is expected before dawn and to remain until about ten in the morning. They'd better be right. The wind tomorrow will be westerly so that any cover from the smoke of burning oil will be out of the question. But they still don't know which section of the tower to occupy.'
'One item I forgot to ask you about. It was about this hooded flashlight with the variable shutter that - '
'I have it.'
'If Branson and company come across it?'
'Medical requisite, my dear fellow. Eye examination, dilation of pupils and so forth. You know morse?'
Revson was patient. 'I just want to read books at night in the coach.'
'Sorry. One of my off-moments." From the east side of the bridge aim approximately forty-five degrees right. They'll have two men on watch in relays, all night. They can't signal you back, of course, so for "message acknowledged and understood" they'll send up a firework rocket from Chinatown. Followed by lots of others so as not to arouse any suspicions. The setting off of fireworks, bangers, crackers or whatever you call them is illegal in this city, but in Chinatown the police bend a tolerant and indulgent eye towards it. Chinese national pastime, you know. You should see the Chinese New Year. Shortly after I arrived-just a few months ago-'
Revson was even more patient. 'I am a San Franciscan.'
'Ah, well. But you still don't know which section ot the south tower -'
'I'll find out.'
'You seem very sure of yourself?'
'Not at all. But I'm sure of our April Wednesday. Branson has given her more than a passing glance. I shall have her employ her feminine wiles to discover which cable is next for the explosive treatment. And when.'