Алистер Маклин - The Golden Gate

Chrysler received Branson’s nod, smiled, took the camera and left. Revson said: ‘Will that be all? Or do you want to unscrew my false heels?’

Branson wasn’t amused. ‘I’m still not satisfied. How am I to know that Kylenski here is not in cahoots with the poisoners? How am I to know that he was not instructed to find only a dozen poisoned plates so as to kill our suspicions? There should have been seventeen tampered trays. There should – there must be someone on the bridge capable of identifying them. I want you, Revson, to sample one of the trays that Kylenski has declared safe.’

‘You want me – you want to kill me off with botulinus on the off-chance that Kylenski has made a mistake? I’m damned if I will. I’m no human guinea-pig.’

‘Then we’ll try some of them out on the President and his oil friends here. Royal guinea-pigs, if you will. This should make medical history. If they resist, we’ll force-feed them.’

Revson was about to make the obvious point that they could force-feed him equally well but immediately changed his mind. Cartland had not yet had the opportunity to inform those in the Presidential coach as to how the infected trays could be identified: O’Hare apart, he was the only one who could. Revson turned his palms upwards. ‘God knows what you’re after but I trust the two doctors here. If they say there are so many uncontaminated trays, then I believe them. So you can have your plebeian guinea-pig.’

Branson looked at him closely. ‘Why have you changed your mind?’

Revson said conversationally: ‘You know, Branson, you’re endlessly over-suspicious. From the expression of your lieutenant, Van Effen there, I would say that he agrees with me.’ No harm could come, Revson thought, from sowing the odd seed of dissension. ‘Some people might even interpret it as a sign of weakness, of uncertainty. I’m agreeing because I don’t care so much for you. A chink in everybody’s armour. I’m beginning to believe that your belief in your own infallibility may rest on rather shaky ground. Besides, plebs are expendable: Presidents and kings are not.’

Branson smiled his confident smile and turned to Tony. ‘Lay out ten of the uncontaminated plates on the counter.’ Tony did so. ‘Now, Revson, which one would you care to sample?’

‘You’re slipping, Branson. You’ve still the lingering suspicion that I might be able to identify the poisoned trays. Suppose you choose for me?’ Branson nodded and pointed at one of the trays. Revson moved forward, lifted the indicated tray and sniffed it slowly and cautiously. The surreptitious movements of his fingertips found no traces of tiny indentations on the underside of the plastic lugs. This tray was clean. He took a spoon, dug into the centre of what looked like a browned-over cottage pie, and sampled the meat. He grimaced, chewed, swallowed, then repeated the process. He laid down the tray in disgust.

Branson said: ‘Not to your liking?’

‘If I were in a restaurant I’d send this back to the kitchen. Better, I’d take it there and empty it over the chef’s head – not that the person who made this could ever be called a chef.’

‘Contaminated, you’d think?’

‘No. Just plain bloody lousy’

‘Perhaps you’d care to sample another one?’

‘No, I would not. Besides, you said, just one sample.’

Branson said persuasively: ‘Come on. Be cooperative.’

Revson scowled but co-operated. This tray, too, was clean. He went through the same performance and had no sooner done so when Branson handed him a third tray.

This one had indentations on the underside of the lugs.

Revson broke the skin, sniffed suspiciously, tasted a little and at once spat it out. ‘I don’t know whether this is contaminated or not, but it tastes and smells even lousier than the other two. If that’s possible.’ He pushed the tray under Kylenski’s nose, who sniffed it and passed it across to his colleague.

Branson said: ‘Well?’

Kylenski was hesitant. ‘Could be. A marginal, a borderline case. It would require lab. testing.’ He looked thoughtfully at Revson. ‘Do you smoke?’

‘No.’

‘Drink?’

‘Birthdays and funerals only.’

Kylenski said: ‘That could account for it. Some non-smokers and non-drinkers can have an extraordinarily acute sense of taste and smell. Revson is obviously one of those.’

Without consulting anyone, Revson examined another six trays. He pushed them all away and turned to Branson. ‘My opinion, for what it’s worth?’ Branson nodded. ‘Most – not all, but most – of those trays are off. With some, you’ve almost got to imagine it. Others stink. I think the whole damn lot is contaminated. In varying degrees.’

Branson looked at Kylenski. ‘Possible?’

Kylenski looked uncomfortable. ‘It happens. Botulinus can vary widely in its degree of concentration. Only last year there was a double family outing in New England. Ten in all. Among other things, they had sandwiches. Again the botulinus bug. Five died, two were slightly ill, three unaffected. But the sandwiches were all spread with the same meat paste.’

Branson and Van Effen walked apart. Van Effen said: ‘Enough?’

‘You mean you see no point in going ahead with this?’

‘You stand to lose credibility, Mr Branson.’

‘I agree. I’m not happy about it, but I agree. Trouble is, we’ve really, basically, only got Revson’s word for it.’

‘But he’s identified twenty – in all – contaminated trays: three more than was necessary.’

‘Who says so? Revson?’

‘After all the proofs, you still don’t trust him?’

‘He’s too cool, too relaxed. He’s obviously highly trained, highly competent – and I’m damned sure that it’s not in photography’

‘He could be in that, too.’

‘I wouldn’t doubt it.’

‘So you’re still going to treat this as a case of deliberate poisoning?’

‘Where our vast viewing public is concerned? Who’s to gainsay me? There’s only one mike and it’s in my hand.’

Van Effen looked towards the south tower. ‘Food wagon number two on its way’

Branson had the TV cameras, the honoured guests, the newspapermen and still cameramen in position in very short order indeed. The black thunderous clouds from the west were steadily marching in on them. Among those seated, the only difference in composition was that Hansen’s seat had been taken over by the Vice-President. The cameras were turning and Branson, seated next to the President, was talking into the microphone.

He said: ‘I am calling upon all viewers in America and throughout the world to be witnesses to a particularly heinous crime that has been committed upon this bridge just over an hour ago, a crime that I trust will persuade you that not all criminals are those who stand without the law. I would ask you to look at this food wagon which, as you can see, has its counter covered with food trays. Harmless, if not particularly appetizing food trays, you would think, such as any major airline would serve up to its passengers. But are they really harmless?’ He turned to the man on his other side and the camera was now back on them. ‘This is Dr Kylenski, a leading forensic expert on the West Coast. A specialist in poisons. Are those trays really harmless, Dr Kylenski?’

‘No.’

‘You’ll have to speak up, Doctor.’

‘No. They are not harmless. Some are contaminated.’

‘How many?’

‘Half. Maybe more. I have no laboratory resources to hand.’

‘Contaminated. That means infected. What are they infected with, Doctor?’

‘A virus. Botulinus. A major source of severe food poisoning.’

‘How severe? Can it be deadly?’

‘Yes.’

‘Frequently?’