The Golden Gate

aren't going to happen to you in the very near future. I suggest, Tony, that you are suffering from a guilty conscience.'

'Me? Conscience?' Tony actually mopped his brow; if his conscience wasn't troubling him something else clearly was. 'God's sake, Mr Branson.'

'Fairy stories are fairy stories but they don't run to a dozen coincidences at a time. Only a fool would accept that. But there had to be some way of identifying the poisoned plates. What way, Tony?'

'Why don't you leave him alone, Branson?' Vice-President Richards's voice was at once harsh and contemptuous. 'He's only a van driver.'

Branson ignored him. 'How were the plates to be identified?'

'I don't know! I don't! I don't even know what you are talking about!'

Branson turned to Kowalski and Peters. 'Throw him into the Golden Gate.' His voice was as level and conversational as ever.

Tony made an animal-like noise but offered no resistance as Kowalski and Peters took an arm apiece and began to march him away. His face was ashen and rivulets of sweat were now pouring down his face. When he did speak his voice was a harsh unbelieving croak.

'Throw me off the bridge! That's murder! Murder! In the name of God I don't know — '

Branson said: 'You'll be telling me next that you have a wife and three kids.'

'I've got nobody.' His eyes turned up in his head and his legs sagged under him until he had to be dragged across the roadway. Both the Vice-President and Hendrix moved in to intercept the trio. They stopped as Van Effen lifted his Schmeisser.

Van Effen said to Branson: 'If there was a way of identifying those plates, that would be important and dangerous information. Would you entrust Tony with anything like that?'

'Not for a second. Enough?'

'He'll tell anything he knows. I suspect it won't be much.' He raised his voice. 'Bring him back.'

Tony was brought back and released. He sagged wearily to the roadway, struggled with difficulty to his feet and clung tremblingly to the luncheon wagonette. His voice shook as much as his frame.

'I know nothing about the plates. I swear it!'

'Tell us what you do know.'

'I thought something was far wrong when they loaded the food into my van.'

'At the hospital?'

'The hospital? I don't work at the hospital. I work for Selzaick.'

'I know them. The caterers for open-air functions. Well?'

'I was told the food was ready when I got there. I'm usually loaded and away in five minutes. This time it took three-quarters of an hour.'

'Did you see anybody from the hospital when you were waiting at Selznick's?'

'Nobody.'

'You'll live a little longer, Tony. Provided you don't eat that damned food of yours.' He turned to O'Hare. 'Well, that leaves only you and the fragile Miss Wednesday.'

'You insinuating that either of us might have been carrying secret instructions from your alleged poisoners?' There was more contempt than incredulity in O'Hare's tone.

'Yes. Let's have Miss Wednesday here.'

O'Hare said: 'Leave her alone.'

'You said'-'who do you think is in charge here?'

'Where a patient of mine is concerned, I am. If you want her here, you'll have to carry her. She's asleep in the ambulance, under heavy sedation. Can't you take my word?'

'No. Kowalski, go check. You know, a couple of stiff fingers in the abdomen.'

Kowalski returned within ten seconds. 'Out like a light.'

Branson looked at O'Hare. 'How very convenient. Maybe you didn't want her subjected to interrogation?'

'You're a lousy psychologist, Branson. Miss Wednesday is not, as you know, cast in the heroic mould. Can you imagine anyone entrusting her with any vital information?' Branson made no reply. 'Apart from that, the only good thing that's ever been said about you is that you never molest women.'

'How do you know that?'

'Chief of Police Hendrix told me. He seems to know a lot about you.'

'You confirm that, Hendrix?'

Hendrix was curt. 'Why shouldn't I?'

Branson said: 'So that leaves only you, Doctor.'

'As a prime suspect? You're losing your grip.' He nodded at Hansen's sheet-covered form on a stretcher. 'I don't want to sound sanctimonious but as a doctor my job is to save lives, not take them away. I have no wish to be struck off the Medical Register. Besides, I haven't left the ambulance since before the food wagon arrived. I couldn't very well be there identifying your damned food trays and be in the ambulance at the same time.'

Branson said: 'Kowalski?'

'I can vouch for that, Mr Branson.'

'But you were talking to people after you returned and before the food wagon arrived.'

Kowalski said: 'He did. To quite a few people. So did Miss Wednesday.'

'We can forget her. The good doctor here.'

'A fair number of people.'

'Anyone in particular? I mean long earnest chats, that sort of thing?'

'Yes.' Kowalski appeared to be extremely observant or have an uncomfortably good memory or both. 'Three. Two with Miss Wednesday-'

'Forget the lady. She'd plenty of time to talk to him in the ambulance to and from hospital. Who else?'

'Revson. A long talk.'

'Overhear anything?'

'No. Thirty yards away and downwind.'

'Anything pass between them?'

'No.' Kowalski was definite.

Branson said to O'Hare: 'What did you talk about?'

'Medical privilege.'

'You mean mind my own damned business?'

O'Hare said nothing. Branson looked at Revson.

'No medical privileges,' Revson said. 'Cabbages and kings. I've talked to at least thirty people, including your own men, since we arrived. Why single this out as a special case?'

'I was hoping you could tell me.'

'There's nothing to tell.'

'You're pretty cool, aren't you?'

'A clear conscience. You should try it some time.'

'And, Mr Branson.' Kowalski again. 'Revson also had a long talk with General Cartland.'

'Oh. More cabbages and kings, General?'

'No. We were discussing the possibilities of ridding this bridge of some of its more undesirable elements.'

'Coming from you, I can well believe it A fruitful talk?'

Cartland looked at him in icy silence.

Branson looked thoughtfully at Van Effen. 'I have a feeling, just a feeling, mind you, that we have an infiltrator in our midst.'

Van Effen gazed at him with his impassive moonface and said nothing.

Branson went on: 'I think that would rule out the doctor. Apart from the fact that we've checked out on his credentials, I have the odd instinct that there is a trained agent loose on this bridge. That again would rule out O'Hare, who's just here by happenstance anyway. You share my instinct?'

'Yes.'

'Who?'