Алистер Маклин - The Golden Gate

‘I’ve only just arrived. Have you any immediate proposals for the moment?’

‘Yes. Await the arrival of the Vice-President.’

‘The Vice-President is a nincompoop. You know that. I know that. We all know that.’

‘Be that as it may, he’s the only man in the United States who can approve and authorize any course of action we may eventually decide to make. Also, I think we had first better wait and consult Mr Milton, Mr Quarry and Chief Hendrix when they’re released.’

‘If they’re released.’

‘Hendrix is certain they will be and Hendrix knows far more about Branson than we do. Besides, he has to negotiate with somebody.’ He picked up the message that had arrived from Revson via the New Jersey. ‘How much reliance do you place on this?’

Hagenbach took the note and read it aloud.

‘ “Please wait. No precipitate action. No violence – especially no violence. Let me evaluate the situation. Cannot use transceiver – the bandits have an automatic radio-wave scanner in constant use. Will communicate with you this afternoon.” ’

Hagenbach laid down the paper. ‘Quite a bit, actually.’

Carter said: ‘What’s he like, this Revson of yours?’

‘Ruthless, arrogant, independent, dislikes authority, a loner who consults superior officers only under duress and even then goes his own way.’

Newson said: ‘That doesn’t sound very encouraging. What’s a hothead like that doing along on a trip like this?’

‘He’s no hothead. His mind is as near ice-cold as any man’s can be. I also forgot to say that he’s highly intelligent, very ingenious and extremely resourceful.’

‘Then he’s a hand-picked man?’ Newson said. Hagenbach nodded. ‘You hand-picked him?’ Again the nod. ‘So he’s the best in the business?’

‘I can’t say. You know the size of our organization. I can’t possibly know all the field agents. He’s just the best I happen to know.’

‘Is he good enough to cope with Branson?’

‘I don’t know because I don’t know Branson. What’s for sure, for once Revson is going to depend heavily on outside help.’ There was a degree of satisfaction in Hagenbach’s voice.

Carter said: ‘And how in hell is he going to communicate with us this afternoon?’

‘I have no idea.’ Hagenbach nodded to Revson’s note. ‘He got that through, didn’t he?’ There was a brief pause as the Admiral and General respectfully contemplated the note. ‘Would either of you gentlemen have thought of that?’ They shook their heads. ‘Me neither. Resourceful is what I said.’

Branson walked up and down the bridge between the rear and Presidential coaches. No nervous pacing, no signs of strain or tension, he could have been taking a pleasant saunter in the afternoon sun, and, indeed, the afternoon was extremely pleasant. The skies were cloudless, the view all around came straight from the pages of a fairy-tale book and the waters of the Golden Gate and the Bay sparkled in the warm sun. Having had his fill of the view, Branson consulted his watch, strolled unhurriedly towards the Presidential coach, knocked on the door, opened it and stepped inside. He surveyed the occupants and the sound of voices stilled.

Branson said pleasantly: ‘You have arrived at a decision, gentlemen?’ There was no reply. ‘Am I to take it, then, that you have arrived at an impasse?’

The President lowered the very large gin and Martini with which he had been sustaining himself.

‘We require more time for our deliberations.’

‘You’ve had all the time you’re going to have. You could sit here all day and get no further. If all your minds weren’t so devious and at the same time so closed to the facts of life, you’d recognize this for the painfully simple issue it is. Pay up or else. And don’t forget the escalation penalty clause.’

The President said: ‘I have a proposal to make.’

‘Let’s hear it.’

‘Permit the King, Prince and Sheikh Kharan to go. I shall remain as hostage. The situation would remain the same. You would still have the President of the United States. For that matter I can’t see why you don’t let all the hostages in this coach go.’

Branson was admiring. ‘My heavens, what a perfectly splendid gesture. Noble, I should say. Why, do that, and the electorate would demand that they re-alter the constitution and let their hero run for another three terms instead of one.’ He smiled and went on without a change in tone. ‘No way, Mr President. Apart from the fact that I shudder at the very thought of you being in the White House for the next thirteen years I’ve always dreamt of holding a hand of cards with four aces in it. Here I’ve got four. One is not enough. And has it ever occurred to you that if you were to be the only hostage left on the Golden Gate Bridge the Government, in the person of your Vice-President who would just love to sit behind that table in the Oval Office, might be sorely tempted to achieve some sort of immortality by wiping out this monstrous band of criminals who have kidnapped you and your Arabian friends? Nothing drastic of course – nobody who destroyed this bridge could ever hope to be President. A single supersonic fighter-bomber from Alameda would do the job nicely. And if one of his rockets went off course slightly – well, that’s just bad luck, an Act of God and pilot’s error.’

The President spilt a considerable amount of his gin and Martini on the carpet.

Branson looked at Quarry, Milton and Hendrix in turn, said: ‘Gentlemen,’ and left the coach. The three men followed. The President carefully didn’t watch them go. He appeared to have found something of profound interest in the depths of what remained of his drink.

Outside, Branson spoke to Van Effen. ‘Get that TV van and crew back here again. Make sure the TV companies are notified.’

Van Effen nodded. ‘It would be wrong of you to let the nation suffer this agonizing suspense. Where are you going?’

‘To the south end with those three gentlemen.’

‘As guaranteed escort for their safety? Can’t they take the word of a gentleman?’

‘Not that. I just want to inspect the progress being made on the barrier. Saves the walk, that’s all.’

The four men climbed into the police car and drove off.

Still alone in the press coach, Revson watched them go then returned his attention to the three small sheets of notepaper on his knees. Each was smaller than the average postcard and all three were covered with small, neat and incomprehensible writing. He focused his camera and photographed each three times – Revson always covered his bets. He then took each paper in turn, set fire to it and crushed the blackened remains in his ash-tray. It was a very curious paper for it gave off no smoke. He then wound off the camera spool, sealed it and wrapped it in a very thin lead foil; as he had promised O’Hare, the completed result was no larger than half a cigarette.

He reloaded his camera and went outside. The atmosphere of suspense and excitement had markedly heightened. He spoke to a nearby newspaperman – understandably, he knew none of them by name.

‘Something new afoot?’

‘Branson’s just sent for the television van again.’

‘Do you know why?’

‘No idea.’

‘Nothing very important, probably. Maybe he’s always had a yen to appear on TV. Maybe he’s just wanting to keep the pressure on the nation and the Government – and the Arabian Governments too, for this time the big three companies will be geared for action, the satellites will be ready and waiting and so will be all the Persian Gulf. The executives of the big companies will be hard put to it to shed crocodile tears for the plight of their beloved President and at the same time refrain from jumping for joy. The biggest show on earth and all for free. What’s the odds Branson won’t be putting on a late show about two in the morning?’