The phone by Branson rang as he was delivering a farewell speech to the camera. He picked it up.
'Hagenbach here. Sorry to have to cut in and cut you off but we have our own little show to watch. You're off the air now and your viewers are now seeing and watching us. Same channel. We've just watched your splendid production. Now, perhaps, you'd like to watch our little show.'
The screen's picture changed to a close-up of Hagenbach. To San Franciscans, at least, his background was unquestionably that of the Presidio.
Hagenbach said: 'There seems little we can do to prevent this criminal Branson from achieving his criminal ends. But from all this, some good might yet come. I give you Mr Richards, the Vice-President of the United States.'
Richards made an imposing figure at the microphone. A convivial and highly articulate man at the best of times, years of dominating conferences and campaigning across the nation had honed his natural abilities as a speaker until he had reached a stage where he could have recited the alphabet backwards and still held his audience spell-bound. But he put his gifts into cold storage that morning: this was a moment that was neither for conviviality nor rhetoric. As became a man at the very heart of a national crisis, he was stern, quiet and, exceptionally for him, brief and to the point.
'Unfortunately, what you have just heard is correct. No matter how distasteful and humiliating this present situation may be, there is no possibility in the world of endangering the President, his royal guests and the good name of America. We submit to blackmail. This criminal Branson would appear to have got away with the blackmailing equivalent of murder but I wish him to listen to me very carefully. On information I have received this morning, information, as I shall shortly prove, of the most reliable kind, I believe that Branson is very near the end of his road. I believe he will very soon be alone and friendless. I believe he will have no one left in the world to turn to. I believe every man's hand will be against him. And I believe that those hands that will be reaching out most eagerly to strike him down, as they most surely will, are the hands of his devoted criminal followers who misguidedly imagine their leader to be a man of honour and integrity.' Richards lapsed into momentary rhetoric. 'Those are hands that will literally cut him down just as he, figuratively, intends to stab them all in the back.'
Some of Branson's men were looking at him in a vague and baffled incomprehension. Revson and O'Hare exchanged enquiring glances. Only Branson seemed entirely at his ease, lounging back in his chair, a faintly contemptuous smile on his lips.
'I said that I had information of the most reliable kind. As your Vice-President, I have been accused more than once of not exactly being given to understatement. In this case I was. What I have is impeccable proof. Ladies and gentlemen and, indeed, viewers, throughout the world, may I present to you the man who, until the early hours of this morning, was Branson's most devoted lieutenant. Mr Johann Van Effen.'
The camera changed to a picture of five men in medium shot sitting in adjoining chairs. The man in the centre was unquestionably Van Effen, who appeared to be his normal relaxed self and to be chatting with seeming amiability to his companions. The picture wasn't close enough to show the glazed eyes, the fact that he was still under the influence of drugs, the drugs which had made him talk his head off during three long hours of probing by a skilled police psychiatrist who, in turn, had received continual prompting from Hagenbach.
Richards went on: 'From left to right: Admiral Newson, naval commander, west coast: San Francisco Chief of Police Hendrix: Mr Van Effen: Mr Hagenbach, head of the FBI: and General Carter, officer commanding, west coast. If I may be permitted a feeble joke, I doubt whether Van Effen has ever found himself in such law-abiding company in his life.'
Branson had very definitely stopped both lounging and relaxing. He was sitting far forward in his chair and for once his feelings were showing: the expression on his face could be described as nothing else other than stunned disbelief.
'Van Effen,' Richards said, 'defected in the very early hours of this morning. He defected for what he, and indeed I, believed to have been very compelling reasons. He departed for the excellent reason that he is still a comparatively young man and would like to live a little longer. Incidentally, as the acting Head of State, I have already guaranteed Van Effen immunity from the due processes of the law. His information has been invaluable, as has been his information of eight major robberies in the past three years in each of which — as we now know — Branson was the leader.'
'But I digress. He defected because he feared for his life. He defected because Branson had suggested to him that he and Van Effen share the ransom money equally. The rest could go to hell and, presumably, prison. Apart from the fact that Van Effen does appear to be possessed of a belief in honesty between thieves, he was only too well aware that if he went along with this the next back to feel the blade of a knife — literally — would be his own. Van Effen feels strongly that his ex-comrades should be made aware of what lies in store for them. He has, he tells me, already persuaded four of Branson's men to defect along with him and we expect them shortly. When they arrive we shall show them on the screen. If you can at all, I suggest you don't stray too far from your television sets.'
O'Hare said: 'Jesus! Talk about sowing seeds of dissension. How's Branson going to cope with this, recover from this? Brilliant. As the Veep says, who's going to trust him now among his own men. This your idea, Revson?'
'I wish it were. But even I am not as crafty, evil and devious as that. The unmistakable hand of Hagenbach.'
'I never thought that Van Effen — '
'Whatever you're about to say, he didn't. Hagenbach made sure that there were no close-ups of Van Effen. Had there been, even a layman would have seen that Van Effen was doped to the eyes.'
'Doped? If he defected-'
'An involuntary defection. I gassed him and lowered him down to an — ah — passing submarine.'
'Of course. What else? An — ah — passing submarine.' O'Hare favoured him with the look of a psychiatrist who finds himself with an intractable case on his hands.
'Dear, dear. You don't believe me.'
'But of course, old boy.'
'You're under stress again,' Revson said kindly. 'Talking English English.' He parted the base of his camera. 'How do you think I got hold of a brand-new radio transceiver in the middle of the night?'
O'Hare stared at him. He said with an effort: 'And the four other promised defectors. Submariners all?'
'Hell, no. Forcible abduction, all within the past half hour.' O'Hare got back to his staring.
In the Mount Tamalpais radar station, Parker, until lately Giscard's number two, looked away from the TV set and at the four men gathered around him. He said: 'Sold down the river.'
From the silence that met this observation, it was clear that the others agreed with him. But it could hardly have been called an agreeable silence.
Richards was trying hard to show that he was not actively enjoying himself. He said into his microphone: 'I can see that the fog is going to pass over the bridge so you won't be able to see me in a couple of minutes. Don't suppose it will last long, though. When it clears, we'll show you your four other faithful henchmen who have defected from you. I will leave you with one last observation. Your money's guaranteed, but watch how you go: I understand it takes exactly six minutes to block the major runways at Havana Airport.'
Branson, his face quite without expression, rose and walked to the rear coach, Giscard following. It was noticeable that his own men either looked at him with puzzlement or thoughtfulness or just averted their eyes. After entering the coach, Giscard went to the back and returned with scotch and two glasses. He poured two large drinks and said: 'I'm against drinking in the morning, too.'
Branson, most uncharacteristically, drained half his glass in one gulp. He said: 'How does your back feel, Giscard?'
'With eleven years working for you and a seven figure bank balance, my back feels okay. I suggest we cut the comedy, Mr Branson. This could be damned serious. With the exception of Van Effen, Yonnie and myself, none of your men has known you for even as long as a year. I forgot Chrysler. But the rest — did you watch their faces as
