O'Hare silhouetted against the still towering but slowly diminishing flames. He called his name softly and O'Hare approached.
'Let's walk to the west side,' Revson said. 'No shooting practice?'
'Nobody as much as looked at the place, far less came near it. Even if they had looked, I doubt whether they would have seen anything. After staring so long at that fire and the fireworks, looking back to the centre of the bridge would have been like looking into total darkness. You know, no night sight.' He handed Revson the white pen. 'Have your little toy back. I remain ethically unbent'
'And you can have your flashlight back.' Revson handed it over. 'I suggest you return it to your ambulance. At the same time I suggest we might retrieve that pistol and give it to General Cartland. I also suggest you give it to him. I don't want to be seen being too chummy with the General. Tell him not to use it till he gets the word. Ever seen one of those before?' He took a Nife cell from his pocket and handed it to O'Hare who peered at it in the near darkness.
'Some sort of battery?'
'Yes. There were two of them and I have the other. They were to be used to power the explosives' triggering device.'
'And you left no trace of your coming and going?'
'None.'
'So we walk towards the side of the bridge.'
They lobbed the cells into the Golden Gate and walked to the ambulance. O'Hare ushered Revson in first, then followed, closing the door. He said: 'I think we should use the torch. The sudden appearance of bright lights in the windows might attract suspicious attention. After all, we're supposed to be out there enjoying the sights.
It took O'Hare less than two minutes to break the Cardiac Arrest Unit seal, lift out some equipment, open up, after a series of intricate operations, a secret compartment in the bottom of the box, retrieve the cyanide gun, replace the equipment, close and reseal the lid. O'Hare placed the gun in an inside coat pocket and said complainingly: 'I'm beginning to become ethical all over again.'
Hendrix said over the phone: 'It wasn't the transformers after all. There have been so many breaks and shorts in the city's electrical equipment tonight that the generators' overload coils just packed up.'
'How long?' Branson asked.
'A few minutes. No more.'
As was his habit. General Cartland was standing alone by the east barrier. He turned and saw O'Hare who said quietly: 'A word, sir, if you please.'
The lights of San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge came on five minutes later. Branson left the Presidential coach and went to meet Van Effen. He said: 'Still think I could make a fortune hiring out my antennae?' He was smiling.
Van Effen wasn't. He said: 'Do me a favour. Just hang on to them a little while yet.'
'Don't tell me your antennae are at work too?'
'If they're not, they sure have good stand-ins.'
The last of the fireworks fizzled to extinction, the oil fire in Fort Mason sank down into a sullen deep-red glow, the lightning and thunder eased, although not markedly so, but the rain showed no sign of abating: had fire broken out in San Francisco that night, it would surely have been rained to extinction. Now that the night's entertainment was patently over, everyone became very conscious that the rain had become very chilly indeed. There was an almost concerted movement back to the coaches.
Revson was in the window seat by the time April Wednesday came in. She hesitated, then sat down beside him. She said: 'And why do you want my seat? I thought it was customary for the lady to be offered the inside seat.'
'To keep her from falling into the aisle during the night? Don't you know this is the golden age of women's lib? However, that's not my real reason. Is it possible for me to reach the aisle without disturbing you in the process?'
'That's a silly question.'
'Is it? I mean, possible?'
'You can see it isn't.'
'Would you be prepared to swear — short of thumb-screws, that is — that I never once disturbed you in the course of the night?'
'You propose to disturb me, then?
'Yes. Will you?'
She smiled. 'I think I've shown that I can lie with the best of them.'
'You're not only beautiful, but you're good.'
'Thank you. Where were you thinking of going?'
'Do you really want to know? I think you'd better not. Think of the thumb-screws, the rack, being broken on the wheel-'
'But Chief of Police Hendrix said that Branson never offered violence to women.'
'That was the Branson of yore. But he's become jittery now, more than a little rattled. He might find himself driven to a point where he's compelled to abandon his scruples.'
It wasn't the completely sodden thin silk dress she was wearing that made her shiver. 'I think I'd rather not know. When are you — '
'Just before midnight.'
'Then I shan't sleep a wink before then.'
'Excellent. Give me a shake at five minutes to.' Revson closed his eyes and appeared to relax comfortably in his seat.
By five minutes to midnight everyone in the coach appeared to be asleep: despite their cold and discomfort nearly all had been asleep for over an hour. Even April Wednesday was asleep, her head on Revson's shoulder, huddling close to him for warmth. She was quite unaware of this. Even the guard, Bartlett, almost certainly because Kowalski's prowling figure was no longer there to keep him on the qui vive, was much nearer sleep than wakefulness, his head nodding on his chest, only occasionally, and with longer intervals in between, jerking his head upright. Only Revson, his eyes closed, was as awake and alert as a cat on a midnight prowl. He nudged April and whispered in her ear. She started awake and looked at him, her eyes uncomprehending.
'Time to go,' he said softly. It was almost dark inside the coach, the only illumination coming from the dimmed light over the driver's seat and from the lights of the bridge itself. 'Give me the aerosol.'
'The what?' Suddenly she was wide awake, the white of the smudged eyes-the pupils could have been any colour-huge in the gloom. 'Of course.' She reached under her seat and brought up the aerosol can. Revson tucked it in his inside left coat pocket. She said: 'How long will you be?'
'With luck, twenty minutes. Perhaps half an hour. I'll be back.'
She kissed him lightly on the cheek. 'Please take care.'
Revson had no comment on this highly unnecessary advice. 'Move into the aisle. Quietly as you can.'
He passed by her and moved silently forwards, his white pen in his hand. Bartlett's head was on his chest. Revson pressed the button at a distance of less than a foot and the needle lodged behind Bartlett's left ear. Revson eased him back until his head dangled over the back of his seat. The drug, apart from inducing unconsciousness, had a temporarily paralysing effect so there seemed little enough likelihood that Bartlett would slip off his seat. April watched all this without any expression: the only indication of her feelings was the tip of a tongue that sought to moisten dry lips.
There had to be a patrolling guard, Revson knew — he had, in fact, seen him several times — and he had to be taken care of. He peered cautiously through the open driver's doorway. A guard was indeed approaching, coming up from the south, walking a few feet wide of the coaches and carrying a shoulder-slung machine-carbine. Revson thought he recognized him as Johnson, one of the helicopter pilots, but couldn't be sure. Revson switched off
