'About that, yes.'
'Can you make an end to all this?'
'That, I'm afraid, is another matter.' He thought and smiled. 'If I try very hard, can I take you out for dinner tonight?'
'Tonight!'
'You heard.'
'You can take me to Timbuctoo if you want.'
'Hussies. You can always tell them.'
The phone call-up in the communications centre in the Presidential coach buzzed at exactly seven o'clock. Branson picked it up. 'Yes.'
'Quarry here. We have acceded to your preposterous demands and made the necessary arrangements. We're waiting to hear from your contact in New York.'
'Waiting to hear — you should have heard two hours ago.'
Quarry said wearily: 'We're waiting to hear from him again.'
'When did he call?'
'As you said, two hours ago. He's making some arrangements with what he calls 'European friends'.'
'He was to have given you a password.'
'He did. Hardly original, I thought. 'Peter Branson.''
Branson smiled broadly and replaced the receiver. He was still smiling when he stepped out into the early morning sunlight. Chrysler was there and he wasn't smiling at all. Chrysler was exhausted, he'd temporarily taken over the roles of both Van Effen and Kowalski. But the reason for his worry lay elsewhere. Branson said: 'Money side is all fixed up.'
'That's splendid, Mr Branson.'
Branson's smile disappeared. 'You seem less than overjoyed.'
'There are a couple of things I'd like to show you.'
Chrysler led them to the south-facing searchlight. 'You probably know that a searchlight is not like an ordinary torch or flashlight. I mean it doesn't use lamps. It comes from an electric arm that jumps between two electrodes. Something like the sparking plug in a car except that there the spark is intermittent Here the arc is continuous. Look at the electrode on the left.'
Branson looked. 'It looks as if it's been melted or bent or something like that. And one must assume that those electrodes are designed to withstand the tremendous heat generated by the arc.'
'Precisely. And something you haven't seen. This tiny hole here in the glass.'
'What are you trying to tell me, Chrysler?'
'There's something else.' Chrysler, walking slowly back with Branson, pointed to the roof of the rear coach. 'The radio-wave scanner. It's kaput, knocked out. Since we checked and double-checked that there are no transceivers — apart from ours — on the bridge, we haven't bothered using it. I just happened to check by accident this morning. I went up and had a look. There's a scorch mark on the base of the revolving spindle.'
'Could have been caused by lightning? Both cases? After all, God knows there was plenty of it around last night.'
'I would point out, Mr Branson, that neither the radio-wave scanner or the searchlight are earthed: both are mounted on rubber wheels.'
'The scanner-'
Chrysler said patiently: 'The coach's rubber wheels.'
'Then what?'
'I think they're using a laser beam on us.'
Even at that early hour all seven of the decision-makers ashore were gathered round the table in the communications wagon when the phone rang. The duty policeman picked it up.
'Branson here. Get me General Carter.'
'He can't be far away. Hang on, please.' The policeman covered the mouth-piece. 'It's Branson for you. General.'
'Switch on the speaker so that we can all hear what he has to say. Tell him I've just come in.'
'The General has just arrived.'
Carter took the phone. 'Branson?'
'Carter, use that laser beam on us just once again and we'll throw, say, Mr Muir over the side. For starters.'
The other six at the table looked at one another with quick apprehension and, possibly, the relieved thought in their minds that it was Carter who had to field this one.
'Explain yourself.'
'One of our searchlights and radio-wave scanner have been knocked out. All signs point to a laser beam.'
'You're a fool.'
There was a brief silence. Branson, clearly, had been taken momentarily aback. Then he said: 'Muir won't think so when he's on his way down to the Golden Gate.'
'I repeat you're a fool and if you can listen I'll tell you why. In the first place you're not an expert and wouldn't recognize the signs of laser damage if it was on your breakfast plate. In the second place, there are no such units in the Bay area — if there were I'd be the first person to know. In the third place, if we had laser beams we could have picked out every one of your villains as they walked about the bridge — or don't you know how accurate and deadly a laser beam is? With the proper telescopic sights you can puncture a football at ten thousand yards.'
'You seem to know a suspiciously great deal about lasers, General.' It was a negative remark and Branson could have been either thinking or stalling for time.
'I don't deny it. I've been trained in them, I even helped in the development of them. Every general has his own trade or speciality. General Cartland is an explosives expert. I'm an electronics engineer. Where was I? Yes. In the fourth place we could have immobilized your helicopters without your knowing anything about it until you tried to take off. You're putting ideas into my head, Branson. Lastly, the probable cause was an electrical discharge — lightning.'
'Neither the searchlight nor scanner was earthed. They're mounted on rubber wheels.'
Carter let irritation creep into his voice. 'I'd stick to robbing banks if I were you. You don't have to be earthed to be struck by lightning. It happens to planes hundreds of times a year at altitudes up to twenty-five thousand feet. Would you call those earthed? Lightning has also quite an affinity for metal.' He paused. 'Of course, you have a generator for your searchlight, almost certainly a petrol generator and as you wouldn't want to be asphyxiated by carbon monoxide fumes you wouldn't have it inside a coach. Tell me, do you also use the generator to recharge your coach batteries — through a transformer, I mean?'
There was the barest pause then Branson said: 'Yes.'
Carter sighed. 'Must I do all the thinking for you, Branson? There you have a massive great lump of metal solidly earthed to the roadway and directly connected to both searchlight and scanner. What a target for any wandering lightning flash. Would there be anything more?'
'Yes. Pass the word that I want the TV cameras in position and ready at nine a.m.'
Carter hung up. Richards said approvingly: 'Quite a performance for the crack of dawn. Takes more than a few stars to make a general, I suppose. I have a feeling that our Branson must be feeling more than a little harried by this time. And when shall we be giving our own TV performance?'
Hagenbach said: 'Directly after Branson's, I should think. Nine-thirtyish. Moment of maximum psychological impact and all that sort of thing.'
'As our — ah — anchor-man, you have your lines ready?'
Hagenbach didn't deign to reply.
Branson said: 'Well, you go along with that?'
