The Golden Gate

the darkness. The rope over the rail went slack and Pearson's voice came over the radio.

'We have him.'

'Intact?'

'Intact. All for tonight?

'Yes. Thank you for your co-operation.' Revson wondered briefly what Van Effen's reaction would be when he found himself in a submarine, then spoke again into the radio. 'Mr Hagenbach?'

'Here.'

'You heard it all?'

'Yes. Not a bad job.' Hagenbach was not much given to showering fulsome congratulations on his subordinates.

'I've been lucky. The triggering mechanism for the explosives has been deactivated. Permanently.'

'Good. Very good.' This, from Hagenbach, was the equivalent to the Roman tribute offered a highly successful general after he'd conquered his second or third country in succession. 'Mayor Morrison will be pleased to know this.'

'When he knows it. I suggest that in a couple of hours' time you douse the bridge lights again and effect entry into the east side south tower. You have the men, sir?'

'Hand-picked.'

'Don't forget to tell them to remove the detonators on the explosives. Just precautionary, you know.'

'Ha!' Hagenbach's deflation was like a snowflake in the river. 'Of course.'

'And another thought. Before you cut the lights you might use the laser on their south-facing searchlight'

'We will, my boy, we will.'

'Please don't contact me at any time. I might be carrying the radio on me and might be in a very awkward position, such as talking to Branson, when the call-up buzzer goes off.'

'We'll keep a permanent listening watch for you.'

Hagenbach looked round his colleagues. His face almost broke into a smile but he just managed to keep his record intact. He looked at each one in turn, trying to conceal his complacency, but not trying too hard, then finally directed his attention towards the Vice-President.

' 'Mad' was the word you used, sir. 'Quite mad.' '

Richards took it very well. 'Well, perhaps a divine sort of madness. Deactivating that triggering device is a major step forward in itself. If only, as you say, Morrison knew.'

'There do appear to be no limits to his resourcefulness,' Quarry said. 'The right man, in the right place, at the right time, if ever there was. But it still doesn't solve the central problem of the plight of our hostages.'

'I wouldn't worry.' Hagenbach leaned back comfortably in his chair. 'Revson will think of something.'

ELEVEN

The only thing Revson was thinking about was how very pleasant it would be to have a few hours' blissful sleep. He'd dragged an already stirring Johnson from his cramped position in front of the driver's seat and propped him on the second step of the coach entrance, head and shoulders resting more or less comfortably against the hand-rail. A minute or two. Revson thought, and he would come to. Even Bartlett was beginning to stir restlessly in his drugged sleep. Different people reacted widely in the length of time it took them to recover from the effect of the knock-out needles. Johnson and Bartlett appeared to have very similar reaction times.

Revson moved silently down the aisle. April Wednesday was wide awake. She swung out to let him pass to the inside seat then sat again. Before removing his soaking coat and dumping it on the floor, he passed her the aerosol. She stooped and thrust it in the bottom of her carry-all. She whispered: 'I didn't think I'd see you again. How did it go?'

'Well enough.'

'What happened?'

'You want to know? Really?'

She thought and shook her head. There were still visions of thumb-screws in her head. Instead, she said softly: 'What's that round your neck?'

'Good God!' From sleepiness Revson was jerked into immediate wide-awakeness. The little transceiver still dangled from his neck. What a sight for a roving Branson. He lifted the transceiver from his neck, undipped the straps, picked up his camera and inserted the radio in its base.

She said: 'What's that?'

'Just a teeny-weeny hand camera.'

'It's not. It's a radio.'

'Call it what you like.'

'Where did you get it from? I mean, this coach — everything — has been searched from top to bottom.'

'From a passing friend. I have friends everywhere. You may well have saved my life there. I could kiss you for it'

'Well?'

When it came to kissing she was nowhere near as fragile as she looked. Revson said: 'That was the nicest part of the whole evening. Of the whole day. Of a whole lot of days. Some day, some time, when we get off this damned bridge, we must try that again.'

'Why not now?'

'You're a brazen — ' He caught her arm and nodded. Somewhere up front someone was stirring. It was Johnson. He rose to his feet with surprising quickness and looked up and down the bridge. Revson could just picture what was going on in his mind. His last recollection would have been of seeing the steps of the lead coach and his natural assumption would be that he had just sat down for a moment to rest. One thing was for sure, he would never admit to Branson that he'd slept for even a second. He stepped into the bus and prodded Bartlett with the muzzle of his machine-gun. Bartlett started awake and stared at him.

'You asleep?' Johnson demanded.

'Me? Asleep?' Bartlett was amazed, indignant. 'Can't a man rest his eyes for a moment without having accusations like that thrown at him?'

'Just see that you don't rest them for too long.' Johnson's voice was coldly self-righteous. He descended the steps and walked away.

Revson murmured to April: 'I was sleepy but I'm not now. But I not only want to appear to be asleep, I want to be asleep if any turmoil breaks out in the very near future, which I strongly suspect might happen. Don't happen to have any sleeping tablets on you, do you?'

'Why on earth should I? This was supposed to be a day trip, remember.'

'I remember.' He sighed. 'Well, there's nothing else for it. Give me the aerosol can.'

'Why?'

'Because I want to take just the tiniest whiff of It. Then take the can from my hand and tuck it away again.'

She hesitated.

'Remember this dinner — those lots of dinners — I'm going to take you to just as soon as we get ashore.'

'I don't remember anything of the kind.'

'Well, remember it now. But I can't very well take you if I'm at the bottom of the Golden Gate, can I?' She shuddered and reached reluctantly into her carry-all.

In the rear coach Chrysler put his hand on Branson's shoulder and shook him gently. Branson, despite what must have been his exhaustion, was immediately awake, immediately alert.

'Trouble?'