Алистер Маклин - Goodbye California

‘That’s a lot of threats.’ He appeared oblivious of the fact that the most immediate threat was an apoplectic one: Donahure was clenching and unclenching his fists and his complexion was shading into an odd tinge of puce.

‘It is indeed. All of them, so far, have proved to be hoaxes. But some day the threat may prove to be real – that is, either the Government or private industry may have to pay up or suffer the effects of a nuclear detonation or nuclear radiation. We list six types of threat – two as highly improbable, four reasonably credible. The highly improbable are the detonation of a home-made bomb made from stolen weapons-grade materials or the detonation of a ready-made nuclear bomb stolen from a military ordnance depot: the credible are the dispersion of radio-active material other than plutonium, the release of hi-jacked radio-active materials from a spent fuel shipment, the detonation of a conventional high explosive salted with strontium-ninety, krypton-eighty-five, cesium-one-three-seven or even plutonium itself, or simply by the release of plutonium for contamination purposes.’

‘From the business-like way those criminals behaved in San Ruffino it might be that they mean business.’

‘The time has to come – we know that. This may be the time we receive a threat that really is a threat. We have made preparations, formulated in nineteen-seventy-five. “Nuclear Blackmail Emergency Response Plan for the State of California”, it’s called. The FBI have the overall control of the investigation. They can call on as many Federal, State and local agencies as they wish – including, of course, the police. They can call on nuclear experts from such places as Donner in Berkeley and Lawrence at Livermore. Search and decontamination teams and medical teams, headed by doctors who specialize in radiology, are immediately available as is the Air Force to carry those teams anywhere in the State. We at ERDA have the responsibility of assessing the validity of the threat.’

‘How’s that done?’

‘Primarily on checking with the government’s computerized system that determines very quickly if unexpected amounts of fissionable material is missing.’

‘Well, Dr Durrer, in this case we know already how much is missing so we don’t have to ask the computers. Just as well; I believe the computers are useless anyway.’

For the second time Durrer removed his pince-nez. ‘Who told you this?’

Ryder looked vague. ‘I don’t remember. It was some time ago.’ Jeff kept his smile under covers. Sure, it was some time ago. It must have been almost half an hour since Ferguson had told him. Durrer looked at him thoughtfully then clearly decided there was no point in pursuing the subject. Ryder went on, addressing himself to Mahler. ‘I’d like to be assigned to this investigation. I’d look forward to working under Major Dunne.’

Donahure smiled, not exactly an evil smile, just that of a man savouring the passing moment. His complexion had reverted to its customary mottled red. He said: ‘No way.’

Ryder looked at him. His expression wasn’t encouraging. ‘I have a very personal interest in this. Forgotten?’

‘There’ll be no discussion, Sergeant. As a policeman, you take orders from only one person in this county and that’s me.’

‘As a policeman.’ Donahure looked at him in sudden uncertainty.

Dunne said: ‘I’d appreciate having Sergeant Ryder working with me. Your most experienced man and your best in Intelligence – and with the best arrest record in the county – any county; come to that.’

‘That’s his trouble. Arrest-happy. Trigger-happy. Violent. Unstable if he was emotionally involved, as he would be in a case like this.’ Donahure tried to assume the expression of pious respectability but he was attempting the impossible. ‘Can’t have the good name of my force brought into disrepute.’

‘Jesus!’ It was Ryder’s only comment.

Dunne was mildly persistent. ‘I’d still like to have him.’

‘No. And with respects, I needn’t remind you that the authority of the FBI stops on the other side of that door. It’s for your own sake, Major Dunne. He’s a dangerous man to have around in a delicate situation like this.’

‘Kidnapping innocent women is delicate?’ Durrer’s dry voice made it apparent that he regarded Donahure as something less than a towering intelligence. ‘You might tell us how you arrive at that conclusion?’

‘Yes, how about that, Chief?’ Jeff could restrain himself no longer; he was visibly trembling with anger. Ryder observed him in mild surprise but said nothing. ‘My mother, Chief. And my father. Dangerous? Arrest-happy? Both of those things – but only to you, Chief, only to you. My father’s trouble is that he goes around arresting all the wrong people – pimps, drug-pushers, crooked politicians, honest, public-spirited members of the Mafia, respected business-men who are no better than scofflaws, even – isn’t it sad? – corrupt cops. Consult his record, Chief. The only time his arrests have failed to secure either a conviction or a probation order was when he came up against Judge Kendrick. You remember Judge Kendrick, don’t you, Chief? Your frequent house-guest who pocketed twenty-five thousand dollars from your buddies in City Hall and finished up with penitentiary. Five years. There were quite a lot of people who were lucky not to join him behind bars, weren’t there, Chief?’

Donahure made an indeterminate sound as if he were suffering from some constriction of the vocal cords. His fists were clenching and unclenching again and his complexion was still changing colour – only now with the speed and unpredictability of a chameleon crawling over tartan.

Dunne said: ‘You put him there, Sergeant?’

‘Somebody had to. Old Fatso here had all the evidence but wouldn’t use it. Can’t blame a man for not incriminating himself.’ Donahure made the same strangled noise. Ryder took something from his coat pocket and held it hidden, glancing quizzically at his son.

Jeff was calm now. He said to Donahure: ‘You’ve also slandered my father in front of witnesses.’ He looked at Ryder. ‘Going to raise an action? Or just leave him alone with his conscience?’

‘His what?’

‘You’ll never make a cop.’ Jeff sounded almost sad. ‘There are all those finer points that you’ve never mastered, like bribery, corruption, kickbacks and having a couple of bank accounts under false names.’ He looked at Donahure. ‘It’s true, isn’t it, Chief? Some people have lots of accounts under false names?’

‘You insolent young bastard.’ Donahure had his vocal cords working again, but only just. He tried to smile. ‘Kinda forgotten who you’re talking to, haven’t you?’

‘Sorry to deprive you of the pleasure, Chief.’ Jeff laid gun and badge on Mahler’s table and looked at his father in no surprise as Ryder placed a second badge on the table.

Donahure said hoarsely: ‘Your gun.’

‘It’s mine, not police property. Anyway, I’ve others at home. All the licences you want,’ Ryder said.

‘I can have those revoked tomorrow, copper.’ The viciousness of his tone matched the expression on his face.

‘I’m not a copper.’ Ryder lit a Gauloise and drew on it with obvious satisfaction.

‘Put that damned cigarette out!’

‘You heard. I’m not a copper. Not any more. I’m just a member of the public. The police are servants of the public. I don’t care to have my servants talk to me that way. Revoke my licences? You do just that and you’ll have a photostat of a private dossier I have, complete with photostat of signed affidavits. Then you’ll revoke the order revoking my licences.’

‘What the devil’s that meant to mean?’