Goodbye California

briefed for this. Morro said: ‘Your Assistant Treasury Secretary. Why is he here? I recognize him, of course, but why?’

Hillary’s face slowly congealed until both it and his eyes were positively glacial. ‘Look at Muldoon.’

‘I take your point. You have come, perhaps, to discuss, shall we say, financial matters?’

‘Among other things.’

‘That man with the brown hair and moustache. He looks like a policeman.’

‘Damn it to hell, he is a policeman. A Secret Service guard. Don’t you know that the President always has a Secret Service guard?’

‘He didn’t accompany you on the plane today.’

‘Of course he didn’t. He’s the head of my west coast Secret Service. I thought you’d be better informed than that. Don’t you know that in flight I never —’ He broke off. ‘How did you know —’

Morro smiled. ‘Perhaps my intelligence is almost as good as yours. Come, let us rejoin the others.’ They walked back and Morro said to one of the guards: ‘Bring the doctor.’

It was a bad moment. Morro could have sent for the doctor, Ryder thought, to check on Muldoon. No one had thought of this possibility.

Morro said: ‘I am afraid, gentlemen, that it will be necessary to search you.’

‘Search me? Search the President?’ Hillary did his turkey-cock act again, then unbuttoned his overcoat and coat and flung them wide. ‘I have never been subjected to such damnable humiliation in my life. Do it yourself.’

‘My apologies. On second thoughts it will not be necessary. Not for the other gentlemen. Except one. Ah, Doctor.’ Peggy’s physician had appeared on the scene. He pointed to Jeff. ‘This young man is alleged to be a physician. Would you examine his case?’

Ryder breathed freely again and was quite unmoved when Morro pointed a finger at him. ‘This, Abraham, is the President’s Secret Service agent. He might, perhaps, be a walking armoury.’

The giant approached. Unbidden Ryder removed both overcoat and coat and dropped them to the floor. Dubois searched him with an embarrassing thoroughness, smiling at the sight of Ryder’s tightly clenched fists, even going to the lengths of poking inside his socks and examining his shoes for false heels. He looked at Morro and said: ‘So far, so good.’

He then picked up Ryder’s overcoat and coat and examined them with excruciating thoroughness, paying particular attention to the linings and the hemmed stitching. Finally he returned them both to Ryder, keeping only the two ballpoints he had taken from the coat’s breast pocket.

During the time of this examination Morro’s physician was examining Jeff’s case with a thoroughness that matched Dubois’s examination of Ryder.

Dubois crossed to Morro, took a photograph, pulled a particularly unpleasant gun from his waist, reversed the photograph, handed one of the pens to Ryder and said: ‘The point is retracted. I do not care to press the button. People can do all sorts of things with ballpoints these days. I mean no offence, of course. Perhaps you would care to write something. My gun is on your heart.’

‘Jesus!’ Ryder took photograph and pen, pressed the button, wrote, retracted the point and handed both back to Dubois. Dubois glanced at it and said to Morro: ‘This is not a very friendly message. It says: “The Hell with you all”.’ He handed the other pen to Ryder. ‘My gun is still on your heart.’

Ryder wrote and handed the photograph back to Dubois, who turned to Morro and smiled. ‘“In triplicate”, he says.’ He handed both pens back.

Morro’s physician returned and handed the case back to Jeff. He looked at Morro and smiled gently. ‘Some day, sir, you will supply me with a medical case as superb as this one.’

‘We can’t all be the President of the United States.’ The doctor smiled, bowed and left.

Hillary said: ‘Now that all this needless tomfoolery is over may I ask you if you know something about the late evening habits of the President? I know we haven’t all night, but surely there is time —’

‘I am aware that I have been most remiss in my hospitality. But I had to observe certain precautions. You must know that. Gentlemen.’

Settled in Morro’s private office suite the company might have been sampling the sybaritic comforts of some exclusive country club. Two of Morro’s staff, incongruously — for them — in black-tied evening suits, moved around with drinks. Morro kept his usually impassive but occasionally smiling calm. It could have been the greatest moment of his life, but he wasn’t letting it show. He was sitting beside Hillary.

Hillary said: ‘I am the President of the United States.’

‘I am aware of that.’

‘I am also a politician and, above all, I hope, a statesman. I have learned to accept the inevitable. You will appreciate that I am in a dreadfully embarrassing position.’

‘I am aware of that also.’

‘I have come to bargain.’ There was a long pause. ‘A famous British Foreign Secretary once demanded: “Would you send me naked to the conference table?”’

Morro said nothing.

‘One request. Before I commit myself publicly, even to my cabinet, may I talk to you privately?’

Morro hesitated.

‘I bear no arms. Bring that giant with you if you will. Or do I ask too much?’

‘No.’

‘You agree?’

‘In the circumstances, I can do no less.’

‘Thank you.’ An irritable note crept into Hillary’s voice. ‘Is it necessary that we have three armed guards to watch eight defenceless men?’

‘Habit, Mr President.’

Muldoon was slumped forward in his chair — his massive back was almost to them — and Jeff, a stethoscope hanging from his neck, was holding a glass of water and some tablets in his hand. Hillary raised his voice and said: ‘The usual, Doctor?’

Jeff nodded.

‘Digitalis,’ Hillary said.

‘Ah! A heart stimulant, is it not?’

‘Yes.’ Hillary sipped his drink, then said abruptly: ‘You have hostages here, of course.’

‘We have. They have come to no harm, I assure you.’

‘I can’t understand you, Morro. Highly civilized, highly intelligent, reasonable — yet you behave as you do. What drives you?’

‘There are some matters I prefer not to discuss.’

‘Bring me those hostages.’

‘Why?’

‘Bring them or, as sure as God’s in heaven, I will not deal with you. I may be making the mistake of taking you at your face value. You may — I only say may — be the inhuman monster you’re said to be. If they are dead, which God forbid, you may take the life of the President before he will deal with you.’

Some time passed, then Morro said: ‘Do you know Mrs Ryder?’

‘Who is she?’

‘One of our hostages. It sounds as if you were in telepathic communication with her.’

Hillary said: ‘I have China to worry about. I have Russia to worry about. I have the European Common Market. The economy. The recession. A man’s mind can accommodate only so many things. Who is this — her name?’

‘Mrs Ryder.’

‘If she is alive, bring her. If she’s all that telepathic I could replace my Vice-President. And the others.’

‘I knew beforehand — and the lady knew — that you would make such a request. Very well. Ten minutes.’ Morro snapped his fingers at a guard.

The ten minutes passed swiftly enough, much too swiftly for the hostages, but it was time and to spare for Ryder. Morro, with his customary hospitality, had offered each hostage a drink and warned them that their stay would be brief. The centre of attraction was inevitably Hillary who, wearily but charmingly, out-presidented any