Алистер Маклин - The Golden Gate

‘Strange hour to go fishing, Revson,’ Van Effen said behind him. For a second, no more, Revson remained immobilized. He was holding the bag at chest level and his hand slid stealthily into his left inner pocket. ‘I’d like to see just what kind of fish one catches at night in the Golden Gate. Turn round, Revson, slow and easy. I’m a nervous character and you know what that can do to trigger fingers.’

Revson turned round, slow and easy, in the manner of a man who knows all about nervous trigger fingers. He already had the aerosol inside the bag. He said resignedly: ‘Well, I suppose it was too good to last.’

‘So Branson was right all along.’ Van Effen, moon-shaped face as expressionless as ever, was between five and six feet away. He had his machine-pistol in both hands, held loosely, but with his forefinger indubitably on the trigger. Revson would have been a dead man before he’d covered half the distance between them. But Van Effen was clearly expecting no resistance. ‘Let’s see what you have there. Slow and easy, now. Slow and easy’

Slowly, easily, Revson withdrew the aerosol. It was so small that it was almost hidden in his hand. He knew that the can was pressurized to three times the normal and that its effective range was ten feet. Or so O’Hare had told him and Revson had a great deal of faith in O’Hare.

Van Effen shifted the gun under his right arm and pointed the barrel straight at Revson. ‘Let me see that.’

‘Slow and easy?’

‘Slow and easy.’

Revson stretched his arm out unhurriedly. Van Effen’s face was no more than three feet away when he pressed the button. He dropped the aerosol and snatched Van Effen’s machine-pistol: again he wished to obviate any metallic sounds. He looked down at the crumpled figure at his feet. He had come to form a certain regard for Van Effen, both as a man and a professional: but regrets were not in Revson’s line of business. He retrieved the aerosol, took the transceiver and pressed a switch.

‘Revson here.’

‘Hagenbach.’ Revson lowered the volume.

‘This is a closed VHF line? No possibility of interception?’

‘None.’

‘Thank you for the radio. I have a problem here. One of disposal. Van Effen caught me but I caught him. Gas. He recognized me, of course, and can’t remain on the bridge. I could throw him into the Golden Gate but I don’t want to. He’s done nothing to deserve anything like that. He might even turn State evidence. May I speak to the submarine captain, please.’

A new voice came through. ‘Captain here. Commander Pearson.’

‘My congratulations, Captain, and thank you for the radio. You heard what I said to Mr Hagenbach.’

‘Yes.’

‘Would you be prepared to accept another passenger even though he is unconscious?’

‘We aim to please.’

‘Would you have a line or rope aboard easy enough for me to haul up but strong enough to take a man’s weight? I’d need about five hundred feet.’

‘Goodness, no. Wait till I check.’ There was a brief silence, then Pearson’s voice came through again. ‘We have three thirty-fathom coils. Joined together that should be more than enough.’

‘Splendid. I’ll send my cord down again. Moment, please. I’ll have to get a weight for it first.’ He strap-hung the radio round his neck to leave his hands free and his eye lighted almost immediately on Van Effen’s machine-pistol. He secured the cord to the trigger-guard and immediately began to lower away. He spoke into the radio.

‘The line’s on the way down. It’s weighted with Van Effen’s machine-pistol and the cord is tied to the trigger-guard. I mean, I wouldn’t like anyone to shoot themselves by accident.’

‘The Navy is accustomed to the handling of offensive weapons, Mr Revson.’

‘No offence, Captain. When I get the rope up I’ll pass it over a rail and secure it to Van Effen. Double bowline round the thighs, a turn round his waist and his hands tied behind his back so that the rope can’t slip over his shoulders.’

‘We have openings in the Service for resourceful young men like you.’

‘I’m afraid the age qualification cut-off lies far behind me. When I have him ready can you have two or three of your men lower him down over the rail? Damned if I’m going to try myself. As I said, it’s my age.’

‘You wouldn’t believe how modernized today’s Navy is. We’ll use a winch.’

Revson said apologetically: ‘I’m just a landlubber.’

‘We have your cord and gun and nobody’s shot down anybody’ There was a brief pause. ‘Haul away.’

Revson brought in the rope. It looked hardly thicker than a clothes-line, but Revson didn’t doubt that Pearson knew what he was about. He trussed Van Effen in the manner he’d described then dragged him to the edge. He said into the radio: ‘Ready to take the strain?’

‘Ready.’

Revson eased him over the edge. For a moment Van Effen dangled there, then disappeared downwards into the darkness. The rope over the rail went slack and Pearson’s voice came over the radio.

‘We have him.’

‘Intact?’

‘Intact. All for tonight?’

‘Yes. Thank you for your co-operation.’ Revson wondered briefly what Van Effen’s reaction would be when he found himself in a submarine, then spoke again into the radio. ‘Mr Hagenbach?’

‘Here.’

‘You heard it all?’

‘Yes. Not a bad job.’ Hagenbach was not much given to showering fulsome congratulations on his subordinates.

‘I’ve been lucky. The triggering mechanism for the explosives has been deactivated. Permanently’

‘Good. Very good.’ This, from Hagenbach, was the equivalent to the Roman tribute offered a highly successful general after he’d conquered his second or third country in succession. ‘Mayor Morrison will be pleased to know this.’

‘When he knows it. I suggest that in a couple of hours’ time you douse the bridge lights again and effect entry into the east side south tower. You have the men, sir?’

‘Hand-picked.’

‘Don’t forget to tell them to remove the detonators on the explosives. Just precautionary, you know.’

‘Ha!’ Hagenbach’s deflation was like a snowflake in the river. ‘Of course.’

‘And another thought. Before you cut the lights you might use the laser on their south-facing searchlight.’

‘We will, my boy, we will.’

‘Please don’t contact me at any time. I might be carrying the radio on me and might be in a very awkward position, such as talking to Branson, when the call-up buzzer goes off.’

‘We’ll keep a permanent listening watch for you.’

Hagenbach looked round his colleagues. His face almost broke into a smile but he just managed to keep his record intact. He looked at each one in turn, trying to conceal his complacency, but not trying too hard, then finally directed his attention towards the Vice-President.

‘ “Mad” was the word you used, sir. “Quite mad.” ’

Richards took it very well. ‘Well, perhaps a divine sort of madness. Deactivating that triggering device is a major step forward in itself. If only, as you say, Morrison knew.’

‘There do appear to be no limits to his resourcefulness,’ Quarry said. ‘The right man, in the right place, at the right time, if ever there was. But it still doesn’t solve the central problem of the plight of our hostages.’

‘I wouldn’t worry.’ Hagenbach leaned back comfortably in his chair. ‘Revson will think of something.’

The only thing Revson was thinking about was how very pleasant it would be to have a few hours’ blissful sleep. He’d dragged an already stirring Johnson from his cramped position in front of the driver’s seat and propped him on the second step of the coach entrance, head and shoulders resting more or less comfortably against the handrail. A minute or two, Revson thought, and he would come to. Even Bartlett was beginning to stir restlessly in his drugged sleep. Different people reacted widely in the length of time it took them to recover from the effect of the knock-out needles. Johnson and Bartlett appeared to have very similar reaction times.