yes.’
‘Now then, Major. Would any of the eight thousand have been checking on tracks — trucks, cars, dune buggies — in the area of the crater: those, that is, that they didn’t obliterate in their mad dash to the scene of the crime?’
‘I wasn’t there myself. Delage?’ Delage picked up a phone. ‘Helicopters? An interesting speculation?’
‘I think so. And I also think that that, if I were Morro, is the way I’d have dumped that hydrogen bomb in the Pacific. Cuts out all this tricky — and maybe attention-catching — business of trucking the bomb to the coast and then transferring it to a boat.’
Dunne was doubtful. ‘There’s still an awful lot of helicopters in the State.’
‘Let’s limit it to the communes, the oddballs, the disenchanted.’
‘With a road transport system like we’ve got, who would want —’
‘Let’s limit it to the mountains. Remember, we’d more or less decided that Morro and his friends have sought out high ground.’
‘Well, the more extreme the group the higher they tend to go. I suppose some would require a chopper to get any place. But helicopters come expensive. They’d be hired on an hourly basis, and you could hardly persuade a hired pilot to carry a hydrogen bomb —’
‘Maybe the pilot isn’t hired. Nor the helicopter. Then there’s the matter of a truck. Trucks. For the transport of weapons-grade material — the stuff taken from San Ruffino.’
Dunne said: ‘You have that, Leroy?’ Leroy nodded and, like Delage, reached for a telephone.
‘Thanks.’ Ryder pondered briefly. ‘That’s all. See you around — some time this afternoon.’
Jeff looked at his watch. ‘Don’t forget. Forty-five minutes. Morro will be on the air with his terms or demands or blackmail or whatever.’
‘Probably not worth listening to. Anyway, you can tell me all about it.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Public library. The study of contemporary history. I’ve fallen way behind in my reading.’
‘I see.’ Jeff watched the door swing to behind Ryder, then looked at Dunne. ‘I don’t see. He’s all right?’
Dunne was thoughtful. ‘If he isn’t, what do you make of us?’
Ryder arrived home some ninety minutes later to find Jeff and Parker drinking beer in front of the television. Ryder seemed in remarkably good spirits. He wasn’t smiling broadly, far less laughing, nor was he cracking any jokes, for that was not his way. But for a man with two of his family held hostage and the threat of being drowned and vaporized far from being an impossibility, he was composed and relaxed. He looked at the TV screen where literally hundreds of small craft, some with sails raised, were milling about in hopeless confusion, apparently travelling at random and ramming each other with a frequency that was matched only by a blind determination. It was an enclosed harbour with half a dozen quays thrusting out towards a central channel: the room to manoeuvre was minimal, the chaos absolute.
‘My word,’ Ryder said. ‘This is something. Just, I imagine, like Trafalgar or Jutland. Those were very confused sea battles too.’
‘Dad.’ Jeff was heroically patient. ‘That’s Marina del Rey in Los Angeles. The yachtsmen are trying to leave.’
‘I know the place. The lads of the California Yacht Club and the Del Rey Yacht Club displaying their usual nautical composure, not to say stoicism. At this rate they’ll take a week to sort themselves out. What’s the great rush? Incidentally this will pose a problem for Morro. This must be happening at every harbour in Los Angeles. He said any vessel moving into the area between Santa Cruz Island and Santa Catalina would result in the detonation of the bomb. A couple of hours and there will be a couple of thousand craft in those waters. Careless of Morro. Anybody could have foreseen this.’
Parker said: ‘According to the announcer, nobody intends to go anywhere near there. They’re going to use the Santa Barbara and San Pedro Channels and go as far north and south up the coast as possible.’
‘Lemmings. Even a small boat can ride out a tidal wave at sea. Not much more than a fast-travelling ripple, really. It’s only when it reaches shallow water or estuaries that it starts to pile up into what people regard as a tidal wave. Why all this confusion, anyway?’
‘Panic,’ Parker said. ‘The owners of smaller craft are trying to lift them out of the water and trail them away but there are facilities available for only a few per cent at a time, and those are so overloaded that they keep breaking down. Diesel and petrol supplies are almost exhausted, and those that have been fuelled are so hemmed in by craft looking for fuel that they can’t get out. And then, of course, there are craft taking off under full power with their mooring ropes still attached.’ Parker shook his head sadly. ‘I don’t think urban Californians are really a sea-going race.’
‘Doesn’t signify,’ Jeff said. ‘We’re supposed to be
‘It would be the same the world over,’ Ryder said. I’ll bet Morro’s glued to his screen in ecstasy. And everybody heading east, of course. City fathers issued any instructions yet?’
‘Not that we’ve heard of.’
‘They will. Give them time. They’re like all politicians. They’ll wait to see what the majority of the people are doing then go ahead and tell them to do what they’re already doing. Any food in this house?’
‘What?’ Jeff, understandably, was momentarily off-balance. ‘Yes. Sandwiches in the kitchen.’
‘Thanks.’ Ryder turned to go then stopped abruptly as something on the screen caught his eye. ‘What an extraordinary coincidence. We can only hope that if it is a good omen then it’s for us and not for Morro.’
Jeff said: ‘We can wait for ever.’
‘See that quay at the lower right of your screen? South-east, it is. The broad one. Unless I’m totally wrong, that’s the source of all our troubles.’
‘The name of it. Mindanao.’
A minute later Ryder was taking his ease in an armchair, sandwich in one hand, beer in the other, half an eye on the screen. He focused both eyes and said: ‘That’s interesting.’
The picture was not without its interest. Three private planes, all twin-engined, had clearly been engaged in a multiple collision. The broken wing-tip of one rested on the ground. The undercarriage of a second had crumpled while a lazy plume of smoke arose from the third.
‘Land, sea and air.’ Ryder shook his head. ‘Know that place. Clover Field in Santa Monica. One can only assume the air traffic controller has high-tailed it for the Sierras.’
‘Honest to God, Dad!’ Jeff was trying to contain himself. ‘You’re the most infuriating, exasperating character that’s ever walked. Have you got nothing to say about Morro’s ultimatum?’
‘Well, no.’
‘Jesus!’
‘Be reasonable. I’ve seen, heard and read nothing about it.’
‘Jesus!’ Jeff repeated and fell into silence. Ryder looked enquiringly at Parker who clearly steeled himself for the task.
‘Morro was on time. As always. This time he really was economical with his words. I’ll make it even more economical. His ultimatum was simply this. Give me the locations and all the operating wavebands of all your radar stations on both the east and west coasts, your cruising radar bombers both here and in Nato and in all your spy satellites or I’ll pull the plug.’
‘He said that, did he?’
‘Well, quite a bit more, but that was the gist of it.’
‘Rubbish. I told you he wouldn’t be worth listening to. I’d thought better of Morro than that. Babies along the Potomac and the Pentagon spinning around like a high-speed centrifuge.’
‘You don’t believe it?’
‘If that’s what you gather from my reactions, you’re right.’
‘But look, Dad —’
