will know I couldn’t use this threat again. I do not have to. You are of no more use to me.’ Morro smiled. ‘Oh, dear, that does sound vaguely threatening. Let us rather say that no harm will come to you.’
Julie looked at him briefly, the fear and suspicion in her eyes undimmed, then looked abruptly away.
‘Well, I tried, young lady. I cannot blame you. You cannot have heard what I said at the breakfast table this morning. “We do not wage war on women.” Even monsters have to live with their monstrous selves.’ He turned and walked away.
Susan watched him go and murmured: ‘And therein lies the seeds of his own destruction.’
Julie looked at her. ‘I–I didn’t catch that. What did you say?’
‘Nothing. I’m just rambling. I think this place is getting to me also.’ But she knew it wasn’t.
‘A complete waste of time.’ Jeff was in a black mood and didn’t care who knew it. He had almost to raise his voice to a shout to make himself heard above the clamorous racket of the helicopter engine. ‘Nothing, just nothing. A lot of academic waffle about earthquakes and a useless hour in Sassoon’s office. Nothing, just nothing. We didn’t learn a thing.’
Ryder looked up from the sheaf of notes he was studying. He said, as mildly as one could in a necessarily loud voice: ‘Oh, I don’t know. We discovered that even learned academics can tamper with the truth when they see fit. We learned — leastways I did — about earthquakes and this earthquake syndrome. As for Sassoon, nobody expected to learn anything from him. How could we? He knew nothing — how could he? He was learning things from us.’ He returned his attention to his notes.
‘Well, my God! They’ve got Susan, they’ve got Peggy and all you can do is to sit there and read that load of old rubbish just as if —’
Dunne leaned across. No longer as alert and brisk as he had been some hours ago, he was beginning to show the effects of a sleepless night. He said: ‘Jeff. Do me a favour.’
‘Yes?’
‘Shut up.’
There was a pile of papers lying on Major Dunne’s desk. He looked at them without enthusiasm, placed his briefcase beside them, opened a cupboard, brought out a bottle of Jack Daniels and looked interrogatively at Ryder and his son. Ryder smiled but Jeff shook his head: he was still smarting from the effects of Dunne’s particular brand of curtness.
Glass in hand, Dunne opened a side door. In the tiny cubicle beyond was a ready-made-up camp bed. Dunne said, I’m not one of your superhuman FBI agents who can go five nights and days without sleep. I’ll have Delage’ — Delage was one of his juniors — ‘man the phones here. I can be reached any time, but the excuse had better be a good one.’
‘Would an earthquake do?’
Dunne smiled, sat and went through the papers on his desk. He pushed them all to one side and lifted a thick envelope which he slit open. He peered at the contents inside and said: ‘Guess what?’
‘Carlton’s passport.’
‘Damn your eyes. Anyway, nice to see someone’s been busy around here.’ He extracted the passport, flipped through the pages and passed it to Ryder. ‘And damn your eyes again.’
‘Intuition. The hallmark of the better-class detective.’ Ryder went through the pages, more slowly than Dunne. ‘Intriguing. Covers fourteen out of the fifteen months when he seemed to have vanished. A bad case of wander-bug infection. Did get around in that time, didn’t he? Los Angeles, London, New Delhi, Singapore, Manila, Hong Kong, Manila again, Singapore, Manila yet again, Tokyo, Los Angeles.’ He passed the passport to Jeff. ‘Fallen in love with the mysterious East, it would seem. Especially the Philippines.’
Dunne said: ‘Make anything of it?’
‘Not a thing. Maybe I did have some sleep but it wasn’t much. Mind seems to have gone to sleep. That’s what we need, my mind and myself — sleep. Maybe when I wake I’ll have a flash of inspiration. Wouldn’t bet on it, though.’
He dropped Jeff outside the latter’s house. ‘Sleep?’
‘Straight to bed.’
‘First one awake calls the other. Okay?’
Jeff nodded and went inside — but he didn’t go straight to bed. He went to the bay-fronted window of his living-room and looked up the street. From there he had an excellent view of the short driveway leading to his father’s house.
Ryder didn’t head for bed either. He dialled the station house and asked for Sergeant Parker. He got through at once.
‘Dave? No ifs, no buts. Meet me at Delmino’s in ten minutes.’ He went to the gas fire, tilted it forwards, lifted out a polythene-covered green folder, went to the garage, pushed the folder under the Peugeot back seat, climbed in behind the wheel and backed the car down the driveway and into the road. Jeff moved as soon as he saw the rear of the car appearing, ran to his garage, started the engine and waited until Ryder’s car had passed by. He followed.
Ryder appeared to be in a tearing hurry. Halfway towards the first intersection he was doing close on seventy, a speed normally unacceptable in a 3 5 mph limit, but there wasn’t a policeman in town who didn’t know that battered machine and its occupant and would ever have been so incredibly foolish as to detain Sergeant Ryder when he was going about his lawful occasions. Ryder got through the lights on the green but Jeff caught the red. He was still there when he saw the Peugeot go through the next set of lights. By the time Jeff got to the next set they too had turned to red. When he did cross the intersection the Peugeot had vanished. Jeff cursed, pulled over, parked and pondered.
Parker was in his usual booth in Delmino’s when Ryder arrived. He was drinking a Scotch and had one ready for Ryder who remembered that he’d had nothing to eat so far that day. It didn’t, however, affect the taste of the Scotch.
Ryder said without preamble: ‘Where’s Fatso?’
‘Suffering from the vapours, I’m glad to say. At home with a bad headache.’
‘Shouldn’t be surprised. Very hard thing, the butt of a ‘thirty-eight. Maybe I hit him harder than I thought. Enjoyed it at the time, though. Twenty minutes from now he’s going to feel a hell of a sight more fragile. Thanks. I’m off.’
‘Wait a minute, wait a minute. You clobbered Donahure. Tell me.’
Briefly and impatiently, Ryder told him. Parker was suitably impressed.
‘Ten thousand bucks. Two Russian rifles.
‘There’s no limit.’ Ryder put his hand on Parker’s. ‘Dave, they’ve got Peggy.’
There was a momentary incomprehension then Parker’s eyes went very cold. Peggy had first sat on his knees at the age of four and had sat there at regular intervals ever since, always with the mischievously disconcerting habit of putting her elbow on his shoulder, her chin on her palm and peering at him from a distance of six inches. Fourteen years later, dark, lovely and mischievous as ever, it was a habit she had still not abandoned, especially on those occasions when she wanted to wheedle something from Ryder, labouring under the misapprehension that this made her father jealous. Parker said nothing. His eyes said it for him.
Ryder said: ‘San Diego. During the night. They gunned down the two FBI men who were looking after her.’
Parker stood up: ‘I’m coming with you.’
‘No. You’re still an officer of the law. You’ll see what I’m going to do with Fatso and you’ll have to arrest me.’
‘I’ve just come all over blind.’
‘Please, Dave. I may be breaking the law but I’m still on the side of the law and I need at least one person inside the law I can trust. There’s only you.’
‘Okay. But if any harm comes to her or Susan I’m out of a job.’
‘You’ll be welcome in the ranks of the unemployed.’
