Алистер Маклин - Red Alert

‘He did say it was the first of its kind and he had this insane idea to patent it if it proved successful.’

‘Homemade. I thought as much. That means the transmitter could also be booby-trapped.’

‘Wonderful,’ Whitlock muttered, then crossed to the window and sat on the edge of the sill.

‘What’s the next move?’

Gottfried patted the attaché case.

‘This contains a portable scanner we developed last year. It works on the same principle as the X-ray machines used at airports to check suitcases. We will be able to see if the transmitter is booby-trapped.’

‘And if it is? What then?’

‘That would depend on the nature of the device,’ Gottfried replied, opening the case and starting to piece together the machine. ‘If it is a tricky operation we will have to fly back to Zürich and defuse it in the laboratory. And if something were to go wrong, God forbid, there would be a medical team on standby to give you immediate assistance.’

‘That’s comforting to know,’ Whitlock replied, grim faced.

‘We have to accept that possibility,’ Gottfried said, glancing up at Whitlock.

‘The only way to deactivate this device is by cutting it off at the power source. That means opening the casing. And if this man Young knew anything about booby-traps, he could have made the job very difficult indeed.’

Whitlock wiped the back of his hand across his clammy forehead.

Gottfried removed a length of flex from the case and held up the plug which was attached to the end of it.

‘Where is the nearest socket?’

‘By the bed. Here, I’ll plug it in for you.’

‘Thank you,’ Gottfried said, handing the flex to Whitlock.

‘Okay?’

’ Ja , it is working.’

Whitlock took up a position behind Gottfried’s chair and looked more closely at the apparatus inside the attaché case: a twelve-inch fold-up square box, with protective curtains at each end, a compact control console and a monitor which was built into the lid of the case.

Gottfried placed the transmitter inside the chamber, then pressed a series of keys on the console in front of him. An image of the transmitter’s components appeared on the screen.

‘The normal two wires connected to the detonator cap,’ Gottfried said, pointing them out with the tip of his pen. ‘Nothing unusual there.’

‘What about the sides of the case? He could have set a hair-trigger device which would detonate the watch if any attempt was made to open the transmitter.’

Gottfried enlarged each side of the transmitter in turn but there were no strands of wire crossing the joins between the two halves of the case.

‘There is another possibility,’ Gottfried said at length. ‘A light-emitting diode. It is a tiny photocell incorporated into the circuit which would trigger off the explosive charge the moment it came into contact with a light source.’

‘In other words, when you removed the back of the transmitter.’

‘Exactly. But there is a way of getting round it. Infra-red light.’

‘Does that mean I’m going to have to fly back to Zürich with you?’ Whitlock asked.

‘That is up to you. There is an infra-red light built into this system but if you would prefer to go to Zürich–’

‘Not if we can do it here,’ Whitlock cut in. ‘I’m on standby. My colleagues may need me at any time.’

‘Very well. Will you switch off the light and close the curtains, please? The infra-red light can only work in complete darkness.’

Whitlock did as he was asked. Gottfried activated the infra-red, which was built into the lid of the case, then switched off the scanner and removed the transmitter from the chamber. He placed it face down on the table then selected a screwdriver from the miniature tool kit he had taken from his pocket and began to unscrew the first of the four screws holding the two halves of the case together. Whitlock remained motionless behind him, his breathing shallow and ragged. He wiped the sweat from his eyes then bit his lower lip painfully when Gottfried placed the fourth screw on the table and gingerly lifted the back off the transmitter. He breathed out deeply and managed a nervous smile when Gottfried held up the back half of the case to show him that it was perfectly harmless. Gottfried took a pair of pliers from the kit and studied the two wires more closely. One blue. One yellow. The standard wiring for a device of that kind. He used the tip of the pliers to look under the wires for any booby-trap that may not have shown up on the monitor. Nothing. He sat back and shook his head slowly.

‘What’s wrong?’ Whitlock asked anxiously.

‘I have this feeling that something is not right,’ Gottfried replied, staring at the two wires. ‘It is almost as if he is inviting us to go ahead and cut the wires. Why go to such lengths to booby-trap the watch but not the transmitter? It makes no sense.’

Whitlock remained silent. Not that he could have spoken anyway. His throat was suddenly dry. Gottfried took a small scalpel from the kit and cut a two-inch gash in the yellow flex. He peeled the plastic back and studied the fine network of wires inside it. He did the same with the blue flex and it was a couple of minutes before he sat back and nodded to himself.

‘Well?’ Whitlock asked.

‘It is booby-trapped.’ Gottfried used the scalpel to point out a single strand of wire amongst the network inside the yellow flex. ‘There it is.’

Whitlock stared at Gottfried. ‘How can you tell? It just looks like another wire to me.’

‘It would, to an untrained eye. I have been defusing explosive devices for the past fifteen years. I know what to look for.’ Gottfried used the scalpel as a pointer and followed the passage of the wire to the detonator cap. ‘If you look closely you will see that this strand was connected separately from the other wires. The perfect booby-trap.’

‘Is there one in the blue flex as well?’

Gottfried shook his head. ‘It is not necessary. Both lengths of flex have to be cut to defuse the device. He only needed to booby-trap one of them.’

‘Thank God for suspicious minds,’ Whitlock said, wiping his forearm across his forehead.

‘More like devious minds. The only way to beat these kind of people is to think like them.’

Gottfried picked up the pliers and cut through the blue flex. Then, using the tip of the screwdriver to isolate the booby-trap, he cut the remaining wires inside the yellow flex to make safe the transmitter.

‘You can take off the watch now.’

Whitlock stared at the watch, an uncertainty in his eyes.

‘Trust me, Mr. Whitlock, the watch is perfectly safe now.’

‘It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s Young I don’t trust.’

Gottfried switched the light on again then turned back to Whitlock.

‘You are worried about the booby-trap in the strap, not so?’

Whitlock nodded. ‘As I said, I don’t trust that bastard an inch. It would be just like him to have the last laugh.’

‘The booby-trap needs to work off a power source. The power source has been cut, so the booby-trap cannot work. It is as simple as that.’ Gottfried smiled at the doubt in Whitlock’s eyes. ‘What must I do to convince you?’

Whitlock sat on the edge of the bed and smiled ruefully at Gottfried.

‘Nothing. I’m convinced.’

‘So take off the watch.’

Whitlock undipped the strap and let out a deep breath when the watch slipped off his wrist on to the back of his hand. He eased it over his fingers and dropped it on to the bed.

‘Thanks,’ Whitlock said softly, massaging his wrist where the watch had been pressed against his skin.

‘I am glad to be of assistance.’ Gottfried pointed to the watch.