Алистер Маклин - The Golden Gate

‘How do you know that?’

‘Chief of Police Hendrix told me. He seems to know a lot about you.’

‘You confirm that, Hendrix?’

Hendrix was curt. ‘Why shouldn’t I?’

Branson said: ‘So that leaves only you, Doctor.’

‘As a prime suspect? You’re losing your grip.’ He nodded at Hansen’s sheet-covered form on a stretcher. ‘I don’t want to sound sanctimonious but as a doctor my job is to save lives, not take them away. I have no wish to be struck off the Medical Register. Besides, I haven’t left the ambulance since before the food wagon arrived. I couldn’t very well be there identifying your damned food trays and be in the ambulance at the same time.’

Branson said: ‘Kowalski?’

‘I can vouch for that, Mr Branson.’

‘But you were talking to people after you returned and before the food wagon arrived.’

Kowalski said: ‘He did. To quite a few people. So did Miss Wednesday.’

‘We can forget her. The good doctor here.’

‘A fair number of people.’

‘Anyone in particular? I mean long earnest chats, that sort of thing?’

‘Yes.’ Kowalski appeared to be extremely observant or have an uncomfortably good memory or both. ‘Three. Two with Miss Wednesday–’

‘Forget the lady. She’d plenty of time to talk to him in the ambulance to and from hospital. Who else?’

‘Revson. A long talk.’

‘Overhear anything?’

‘No. Thirty yards away and downwind.’

‘Anything pass between them?’

‘No.’ Kowalski was definite.

Branson said to O’Hare: ‘What did you talk about?’

‘Medical privilege.’

‘You mean mind my own damned business?’

O’Hare said nothing. Branson looked at Revson.

‘No medical privileges,’ Revson said. ‘Cabbages and kings. I’ve talked to at least thirty people, including your own men, since we arrived. Why single this out as a special case?’

‘I was hoping you could tell me.’

‘There’s nothing to tell.’

‘You’re pretty cool, aren’t you?’

‘A clear conscience. You should try it some time.’

‘And, Mr Branson.’ Kowalski again. ‘Revson also had a long talk with General Cartland.’

‘Oh. More cabbages and kings, General?’

‘No. We were discussing the possibilities of ridding this bridge of some of its more undesirable elements.’

‘Coming from you, I can well believe it. A fruitful talk?’

Cartland looked at him in icy silence.

Branson looked thoughtfully at Van Effen. ‘I have a feeling, just a feeling, mind you, that we have an infiltrator in our midst.’

Van Effen gazed at him with his impassive moonface and said nothing.

Branson went on: ‘I think that would rule out the doctor. Apart from the fact that we’ve checked out on his credentials, I have the odd instinct that there is a trained agent loose on this bridge. That again would rule out O’Hare, who’s just here by happenstance anyway. You share my instinct?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who?’

Van Effen didn’t hesitate. ‘Revson.’

Branson beckoned Chrysler. ‘Revson here claims to be an accredited correspondent of The Times of London. How long would it take you to check that out?’

‘Using the Presidential telecommunications?’

‘Yes.’

‘Minutes.’

Revson said: ‘I suppose I’m supposed to show a degree of high indignation, but I won’t bother. Why me? Why assume it’s any of the news media members? Why not one of your own men?’

‘Because I hand-picked them personally.’

‘Just the same way that Napoleon did his marshals. And look how many of them turned against him in the end. How you can expect loyalty from a bunch of cut-throats like this, however hand-picked, is beyond me.’

‘You’ll do for the moment,’ Van Effen said comfortably. He touched Branson’s arm and pointed to the west. ‘We may not have all that much time.’

‘You’re right.’ Dark, heavy, ominous clouds were rolling in from the Pacific, although still some miles distant. ‘The audiences wouldn’t like it at all if they were to see their President and Vice-President, not to mention their oil friends, sitting here getting soaked in a thunderstorm. Ask Johnson to organize the cameras and the seating.’ He waited thoughtfully until Van Effen had done this then took him across to where Revson was standing alone. He said to Van Effen: ‘Revson tells me that you have already searched his camera.’

‘Yes. But I didn’t take it to pieces.’

‘Maybe you should.’

‘And maybe you shouldn’t.’ For once, Revson let anger show. ‘Do you know that it takes a man five years’ training to learn just how to assemble one of those cameras? I’d rather you kept the damned thing for the duration of our stay here than have it ruined.’

‘Call his bluff and have it stripped,’ Branson said.

‘I agree.’ Van Effen said to Revson, almost soothingly, ‘We’ll have Chrysler do it. He’s as close to a mechanical genius as anyone I know. It will be intact.’ To Branson he said: ‘I’ve also searched his carry-all, the upholstery of his seat, below the seat and the rack above. Clean.’

‘Search him.’

‘Search me?’ More than a trace of truculence remained in Revson’s face. ‘I’ve already been searched.’

‘For weapons only’

If there had been a grain of rice on Revson’s person, including inside the coat lining, Van Effen wouldn’t have missed it. Apart from keys, coins and an inoffensive little knife, all he came up with were papers.

‘The usual,’ Van Effen said. ‘Driving licence, social security, credit cards, press cards–’

‘Press cards,’ Branson said. ‘Any of them identify him with the London Times!’

‘There’s this.’ Van Effen handed the card across to Branson. ‘Looks pretty kosher to me.’

‘If he is who or what we think he might be, he wouldn’t be likely to hire the worst forger in town.’ He handed the card back, a slight frown on his face. ‘Anything else?’

‘Yes.’ Van Effen opened a long envelope. ‘Airline ticket. For Hong Kong.’

‘It wouldn’t be dated for tomorrow?’

‘It is. How did you know?’

‘He told me so himself. What do you think?’

‘I don’t know.’ For a moment, as Van Effen idly fingered Revson’s felt pens both he and Branson were only a heart’s beat from death. But Van Effen, his mind on something else, reclipped them and opened Revson’s passport. He flipped rapidly through the pages. ‘Certainly gets around. Lots of South-East Asia passports, last about two years ago. Near East immigration stamps galore. Not many European or London stamps, but that signifies nothing. They are an idle bunch across there and British and most European – Western European – passport officers only stamp your passports if they feel in need of the exercise. How does it all sound to you?’

‘Ties in with his own claims, what he told me himself. You?’

‘If he’s a bad one, I would call this an excessive cover-up. Why not Milwaukee? Or even San Francisco?’

Branson said: ‘You a San Franciscan?’

‘By adoption.’

Van Effen said: ‘Who’d spend a dozen years travelling the world just to establish a background, an alibi like this?’

Chrysler came up. Branson looked at him in slight surprise. ‘Through already?’

‘The President has a hot line to London. I hope you don’t mind. Revson’s clean. He’s a fully accredited correspondent of the London Times.’

Revson said to Chrysler: ‘Branson wants you to take my camera to pieces. There’s a time-bomb or a radio inside it. Watch you don’t blow yourself up. After that, you’d better make damn sure you put it all together again.’