Europe. Half a billion dollars — plus, of course, my quarter million expenses. Noon. Tomorrow.'
Richards's chilling glare should have petrified Branson on the spot. Branson remained unaffected.
'And don't forget the escalation clause. Two million dollars for every hour's delay. And, of course, the free pardon. I expect that will take some time, I suppose your Congress will be a little stuffy about that. But we — your friends and I — can rest comfortably in the Caribbean till that comes through. I bid you good evening, gentlemen.'
He walked away and stopped at the opened door of the rear coach. Revson was there, slinging over his shoulder the strap of the camera which Chrysler had just handed back to him. Chrysler smiled at Branson.
'Clean as a whistle, Mr Branson. My word, I wish I had one of those.'
'You can have a dozen very soon. You had another camera, Revson.'
'Yes.' Revson sighed. 'Do you want me to fetch it for you?'
'I'd rather not. Will you get it, Chrysler?'
'Five back, inside seat,' Revson said helpfully. 'It's on the seat.'
Chrysler returned with the camera, showed it to Branson. 'An Aaahi-Pentax. I have one myself. Those things are so jammed with miniaturized electronic equipment that you couldn't hide a pea inside it.'
'Assuming, of course, that it is not just an empty shell.'
'Ah.' Chrysler looked at Revson. 'Loaded?' Revson shook his head. Chrysler opened the back just as Van Effen joined them and displayed the rear of the camera.' The genuine article.' He snapped the back closed.
Revson took his camera back. He spoke to Branson, his tone as cold as his face. 'Maybe you'd like to look at my watch. Could be a transistorized two-way radio. All the best investigators in the comic strips wear one.'
Branson said nothing. Chrysler took Revson's wrist, pressed a knob on either side of the watch. Illuminated red figures appeared, one set giving the date, the other the time. Chrysler dropped the wrist.
'Pulsar digital. You couldn't hide a grain of sand inside one of those things.'
Revson turned with deliberate contempt on his heel and walked away. Chrysler went inside the coach. Van Effen said: 'Still bugged, Mr Branson? So he's annoyed. Wouldn't you be if you'd been put through the hoop the way you've put him through the hoop? Besides, if he'd anything to hide he wouldn't let his animosity show so plain, he'd keep a very low profile indeed.'
'Maybe that's the way he expects us to react. Or maybe he's clear.' Branson looked thoughtful almost to the extent of being worried. 'But I can't shake off the feeling that there's something wrong, and it's a feeling that's never let me down before. I'm convinced, don't ask me how, that someone on the bridge has some means of communicating with someone on land. I want every inch of every person — and that includes our illustrious guests — searched, and to hell with the ladies' feelings. Every inch of their personal belongings, every inch of every coach.'
'Immediately, Mr Branson.' There was acquiescence in the tone but no great enthusiasm. 'And the rest rooms?'
'Those too.'
'And the ambulance?'
'Yes. I think I'll attend to that myself.'
O'Hare looked up in mild surprise as Branson entered the ambulance. 'Don't tell me that the botulinus has struck again?'
'No. I'm here to search this ambulance.'
O'Hare rose from his stool, his face tight. 'I don't allow civilians to touch my medical supplies.'
'You're going to allow this one. If necessary, I'll call one of my men and have you held either at pistol-point or tied up while I conduct my search.'
'And just what in the hell do you think you're looking for?'
'That's my concern.'
'So I can't stop you. I just warn you that we carry quite a lot of dangerous drugs and surgical equipment here. If you poison yourself or slice an artery, here's one doctor who's not going to help you.'
Branson nodded to April Wednesday who was sleeping peacefully on the side bunk. 'Lift her off.'
'Lift her — what do you think — '
'Do it immediately or I call a guard.'
O'Hare lifted the slight form in his arms. Branson pummelled every inch of the thin mattress, lifted it, looked under it and said: 'Put her back.'
Branson carried out a thorough search of all the medical equipment in the ambulance. He knew exactly what he was looking for and nothing he examined looked even remotely like what he hoped to find. He looked around, picked up a torch suspended from one side of the ambulance, switched it on and twisted the top, opening and then narrowing the hooded shutter. 'A peculiar flashlight, O'Hare.'
O'Hare said wearily: 'It's an ophthalmic torch. Every physician carries one. You can diagnose a dozen different diseases by the dilation of the pupils of the eyes.'
'This can be useful. Come with me.' He went down the rear steps of the ambulance, went round to the front and jerked open the driver's door. The driver, peering at a lurid magazine in the now fading light, looked round in surprise.
Branson said: 'Out!' The man descended and Branson, offering no explanation, searched him comprehensively from head to foot. He then climbed inside the driving compartment, examined the upholstery, opened various lockers and shone the torch inside. He descended and said to the driver: 'Open the engine hood.'
This was done. Again with the aid of the torch he carried out a thorough inspection of the compartment and found nothing worthy of his attention. He went round to the rear of the ambulance and re-entered. O'Hare followed, politely removed the torch from Branson's hand and replaced it. Branson indicated a metal canister held in place by a spring dip. He said: 'What's that?'
O'Hare gave a creditable impression of a man whose patience was wearing very very thin. 'An aerosol air- freshener.' It was the fake Prestige can that contained the knock-out gas.
Branson freed the can. 'Sandalwood,' he said. 'You have an exotic taste in perfumes.' He shook the can, listened to the gurgling inside, then replaced the canister in its clip. O'Hare hoped that the dampness on his brow didn't show.
Branson finally directed his attention to the big oiled-wood box on the floor. 'And what's this?'
O'Hare didn't answer. Branson looked at him. O'Hare was leaning with a negligent elbow on top of a locker, his expression a mixture of barely concealed impatience and bored indifference.
Branson said sharply: 'You heard me.'
'I heard you. I've had just about enough of you, Branson. If you expect me to show any obedience or respect for you, then you're way out of your mind. I'm beginning to think you are illiterate. Can't you see those big red letters? They spell out 'Cardiac Arrest Unit'. Emergency equipment for patients who have, or may shortly be expected to have, a heart attack.'
'Why the big red seal in front?'
'There's more to it than just that red seal. The whole unit is hermetically sealed. The entire interior of that box and all the equipment it contains is completely sterilized before the box is sealed. One does not inject an unsterilized needle in or near the heart of a cardiac patient.'
'What would happen if I broke that seal?'
'To you, nothing. You'd just be committing the most cardinal sin in any hospital. You'd render the contents useless. And the way you're carrying on the President is a prime candidate for a heart attack at any moment.' O'Hare was acutely conscious that the aerosol can was only inches from his hand. If Branson broke the seal and started delving deeper he intended to use the aerosol without a second thought: Branson could hardly be expected to be the person who would fail to recognize a cyanide air pistol when he saw it Branson's face was without expression.' The President-'
'I'd sooner turn in my licence than insure the President for anything. I am a doctor. Twice your needling and public humiliation have driven him into a state of near-apoplexy. You never know, third time you may be lucky. Go on and break the bloody seal. What's another death on your conscience?'
'I've never been responsible for anybody's death in my life.' Without as much as looking at O'Hare, Branson abruptly left the ambulance. O'Hare went to the rear door and looked after him thoughtfully. Revson was ambling
