Алистер Маклин - Athabasca

“How’s the patient?”

“Coming on. The wound’s not too bad. He’s just been soundly stunned, which is apt to addle anyone’s brains a bit. Headache for a couple of days.”

“A couple of brief questions for Bronowski.”

“Well, brief.” Dr Blake nodded at Dermott’s companions.

Dermott asked: “Did you see the guy who knocked you down?”

“See him?” Bronowski exclaimed. “Didn’t even hear him. First thing I knew of anything was when I woke up in this bed here.”

“Did you know Finlayson was missing?”

“No. How long’s he been gone?”

“Some hours. Must have gone missing before you were clobbered. Did you see him at all? Speak to him?”

“I did. I was working on those reports you asked me to get for you. He asked about the conversation I had with you, then left.” Bronowski thought about it. “That was the last I saw of him.” He looked at Black. “Those papers I was working on. Are they still on the table?”

“I saw them.”

“Can you have them put back in the safe, please? They’re confidential.”

“I’ll do that,” Black said.

Dermott asked: “May I see you a minute, doctor?”

“You’re seeing me now.” The doctor looked quizzically at Dermott down his long nose.

Dermott smiled heavily: “Do you want me to discuss my chilblains and gout in public?”

In the consulting room Dr Blake said: “You look in pretty good shape to me.”

“Advancing years, is all. Have you been up to Pump Station Four?”

“Ah, so it’s that business! What stopped you discussing it out there?”

“Because I’m naturally cagey, distrustful and suspicious.”

“I went up with Finlayson.” Blake made a grimace at the memory. “Place was a ghastly mess. So were the two murdered men.”

“They were all that,” Dermott agreed. “Did you carry out an autopsy on them?”

There was a pause. “Have you the right to be asking me these questions?”

Dermott nodded. “I think so, Doctor. We’re all interested in justice. I’m trying to find out who killed those two men. May be three, by now, if Finlayson stays missing.”

“Very well,” Blake said. “I carried out an autopsy. It was fairly perfunctory, I admit. When men have been shot through the forehead, it’s pointless to try to establish the possibility that they died of heart failure instead. Although, mind you, from the mangled state of their bodies, it’s clear that the blast effect of the explosion would in itself have been enough to kill them.”

“The bullets were still lodged in the bead?”

“They were and are. A low-velocity pistol. I know they’ll have to be recovered, but that’s a job for the police surgeon, not for me.”

“Did you search them?”

Blake lifted a saturnine eyebrow. “My dear fellow, I’m a doctor, not a detective. Why should I search them? I did see that one had some papers in an inside coat pocket, but I didn’t examine them. That was all.”

“No gun? No holster?”

“I can testify to that. I had to remove coat and shirt. Nothing of that nature.”

“One last question,” Dermott said. “Did you notice the index ringer on the same man’s right hand?”

“Fractured just below the knuckle bone? Odd sort of break in a way, but it could have resulted from a variety of causes. Don’t forget the blast flung both of them heavily against some machinery.”

“Thank you for your patience.” Dermott made for the door, then turned. “The dead men are still at Pump Station Four?”

“No. We brought them back here. I understand their families want them buried in Anchorage, and that they’ll be flown down there tomorrow.”

Dermott looked round Finlayson’s office and said to Black: “Anything been altered since Bronowski was discovered here?”

“You’d have to ask Mr Finlayson. At the time, I was across seeing my opposite number in ARCO and didn’t get here for twenty minutes.”

The F.B.I. man asked: “Some things have been touched, naturally. My men had to when they were carrying out their fingerprinting.”

Mackenzie nodded to the buff folders on Finlayson’s desk. “Are those the reports on the security men? The ones that Bronowski said he was studying when he was clobbered?”

Black looked at Houston, and the security man said: “Yes.”

“There were fingerprints, too.” Mackenzie raised an eyebrow.

“Those will be in the safe,” Houston said.

“We’d like to see those and the records,” Dermott said. “In fact, we’d like to see everything in that safe.”

Black intervened. “But that’s where all our company confidential information is kept.”

“That’s precisely why we’d like to examine it.”

Black compressed his lips. “That’s a very large order, Mr Dermott.”

“If our hands are to be tied, we might as well go back to Houston. Or have you something to hide?”

“I consider that remark offensive.”

“I don’t.” Brady had spoken from the depths of the only armchair in the room. “If you have something to hide, we’d like to know what it is. If you haven’t, open up your safe. You may be the senior man in Alaska, but the people in London are the ones that matter, and they’ve promised me we would be afforded every co-operation. You are showing distinct signs of lack of co-operation. I must say that gives me food for thought.”

Black’s lips were very pale now. “That could be construed as a veiled threat, Mr Brady.”

“Construe it any damned way you like. We’ve been through this up here once before, earlier. And John Finlayson has gone walk-about or somewhere even less attractive. Co-operate or we leave – and leave you with the task of explaining to London the reason for your secretiveness.”

“I am not being secretive. In the best interests of the company–”

“The best interest of your company is to keep that oil flowing and head off these killers. If you don’t let us examine that safe, we can only conclude that for some reason you choose to obstruct the best interest of your company.” Brady poured himself a daiquiri as if to indicate that his part of the discussion was over.

Black surrendered: “Very well.” The lips had now thinned almost to nothing. “Under protest and under, I may say, duress, I agree to what I regard as an outrageous request. The keys are in Mr Finlayson’s desk. I will bid you goodnight.”

“One moment.” Dermott didn’t sound any more friendly than Black. “Do you have records of all your employees on the pipeline?”

It was clear that Black was considering some further opposition, and then decided against it. “We do. But very concise. Couldn’t call them reports, just brief notes of, mainly, previous jobs held.”

“Where are they? Here?”

“No. Only reports on security personnel are kept here, and that’s because Bronowski regards this as his base. The rest are kept in Anchorage.”

“We’d like to see them. Perhaps you can arrange for them to be made available?”

“I can arrange it.”

“I understand from Dr Blake that you have a flight to Anchorage tomorrow. Is it a big plane?”

“Too big,” said Black the accountant. “A 737. Only one available tomorrow. Why?”

“One or more of us might want to hitch a lift,” Dermott answered. “We could, among other things, pick up those reports. Seats would be available?”

Black said: “Yes. No more questions, I trust?”

“One. You received this threatening telex message from Edmonton today, telling you to close down the line or else. What do you propose to do?”

“Carry on production, of course.” Black tried to smile sardonically, but the moment was wrong. “Assuming, of course, that the criminals have been apprehended?”