The Golden Gate

we came here?'

Branson shook his head slowly. 'They just didn't know what to think. Blame them?'

'No. Blame Van Effen?'

'If I believed the sun wasn't going to set tonight, I'd believe he defected. He didn't. Notice that the camera showed no close-up, and that be wasn't invited to speak?' He broke off as Chrysler appeared at the doorway.

Branson said: 'It's all right. Come in. You look unhappy.'

'I am unhappy. I heard what Giscard just said. They let Van Effen stay in the background because he was drugged. I'll bet he told them his life story without realizing one word of what he was saying. Van Effen defect? Never. And there's another thing I'm unhappy about. Bartlett and Boyard should have been back by this time. They haven't even appeared at the south tower. What's more, they're not going to. I know who the next four so-called defectors are going to be.'

Branson said: 'Drugs. No defection. Coercion. We're all agreed on that. But — how did Van Effen leave the bridge?'

Giscard said: 'God knows. I wasn't here. Could it have been during one of the two black-outs you had that night?'

Branson said: 'He was with me on both occasions. Any ideas, Chrysler?'

'None. It's as I said, Mr Branson. There's a rotten apple in the barrel somewhere.' He looked out moodily at the fog drifting over the bridge. 'It's getting so that I don't like this bridge much any more.'

Carmody removed the last of the detonators from the second strap of explosives and gingerly rejoined Rogers on the top of the south tower. He picked up the walkie-talkie. 'General Carter please.' There was a few seconds' delay then Carter came through. Carmody said: 'We've got them, sir. Shall Rogers and I take a stroll across to the other side? Branson, I believe, has promised another show at eleven. It'll be the west cable, this time, and we quite like our job of being a reception committee.'

'It's a sensible precaution although I somehow don't think that Branson is going to risk any more of his men in the south tower.'

'Ah! Our four friends made it to terra firma, sir?'

'With me now. Pity you haven't a TV up there, you and Rogers. Some splendid shows on today.'

'There'll be repeats. We must leave, sir. Fog's thinning quickly down below.'

The fog, in fact, moved into the bay in less than five minutes leaving the bridge brilliant in the bright sunshine. Branson, pacing up and down a short section of the bridge, stopped as Chrysler approached.

'Hagenbach on the phone. Mr Branson. He says to switch on the television in two minutes' time.'

Branson nodded. 'We all know what this is going to be.'

This time Hagenbach was the master of ceremonies. He hadn't prepared his lines as well as the Vice- President but he made his point with considerable impact.

'It does look as if Branson's criminal empire, if not at least crumbling, is showing signs of coming apart at the seams. The Vice-President promised you that more defectors would appear. That Van Effen had talked four more into deserting the sinking ship. Well, they have just so done as you can see for yourselves.'

Another camera picked up a table with four men sitting around it, each with a glass in his hand. A bottle stood on the middle of the table. They could hardly be described as a gay and happy group but then they had no reason to be.

Hagenbach moved into camera range. 'There they are then, ladies and gentlemen. Left to right, Messrs Reston, Harrison, Bartlett and Boyard. Incidentally, one of Branson's top men is in hospital with a fractured skull. One does wonder what will happen next. Thank you for your kind attention.'

The cameras had just stopped turning when a policeman came running up to Hagenbach. 'Telephone for you, sir. It's Mount Tamalpais.'

Ten seconds later Hagenbach was inside the communications wagon, listening intently. He replaced the receiver and looked at Hendrix, Newson and Carter. 'How long would it take to provide two helicopters, one with a TV camera and crew, the other with armed police?'

Carter said: 'Ten minutes. Twelve at the most.'

Giscard said bitterly. 'Attrition, attrition, attrition. Pin-pricks and more pin-pricks. A steady undermining of confidence in those of us who are left. And not a thing in the world you can do about it, nothing to justify any violent retaliatory action against the hostages. They're just using the TV to play you at your own game. Mr Branson.'

'Yes, they are.' Branson didn't seem unduly disturbed: what he'd seen had come neither as shock nor surprise to him. 'One has to admit that they're quite good at it.' He looked at Giscard and Chrysler. 'Well, gentlemen, I've made up my mind. Your thoughts?'

Giscard and Chrysler looked briefly at each other. It was not in character with Branson that he should ask anyone's opinion.

'We've got our hostages trapped here,' Chrysler said. 'Now I'm the one who's beginning to feel trapped on this damned bridge. We've no freedom of movement.'

Giscard said: 'But we would have in the Presidential Boeing. And it has the finest communications system in the world.'

'So we make orderly preparations for, if need be, an emergency take-off. I am in agreement They shall pay for this. Just to show them I mean what I say, I'm still going to bring down their damned bridge. Now, I hardly think it would be wise to wrap the remaining two explosive devices round the west cable at the top of the north tower.'

'Not,' Giscard said, 'unless you want to have another couple of involuntary defectors.'

'So we wrap them round the cable just where we are here. At the lowest point, between the two helicopters. That should do satisfactorily enough, I think.'

Some half hour later, shortly after the last two of the explosive straps had been secured to the west cable, Chrysler came up to Branson. 'Hagenbach. He says there'll be an interesting programme coming on in just two minutes. Five minutes after the programme he's going to call you. He says two very important messages are coming through from the east.'

'I wonder what that conniving old devil is up to now?' Branson went and took his accustomed viewing place. Automatically, the seats beside and behind him filled up. The screen came to life.

It portrayed something that looked like an enormous white golf ball — one of the Mount Tamalpais radar scanners. Then the camera zoomed in on a group of about ten men, policemen in their shirt sleeves, all armed with submachine-guns. Slightly in front of them stood Hendrix, a microphone in his hand. The camera followed as Hendrix moved forwards towards an opening door. Five men emerged, all with their hands high. The leading man of the five stopped when he was within three feet of Hendrix.

Headrix said: 'You're Parker?'

'Yes.'

'I'm Hendrix. Chief of Police, San Francisco. Do you men surrender voluntarily?'

'Yes.'

'Why?'

'Better than being hunted and gunned down by you — or stabbed in the back by that bastard Branson.'

'You're under arrest Get into the van.' Hendrix watched them go then spoke again into the microphone. 'When it comes to making speeches, I'm afraid I'm not in the same league as the Vice-President or Mr Hagenbach, so I won't even try. All I can say, with due modesty on the part of all of us, is that ten defectors is not a bad morning's bag. And the morning is not over yet. Incidentally, there will be no more broadcasts from us for at least an hour.'

Revson stood up and glanced round casually. In the space of only two seconds he caught the eye of both General Cartland and Grafton. Slowly, casually, the newsmen and the hostages began to drift off to their separate coaches, the former presumably to write up their dispatches or refill cameras, the later, almost certainly, in the pursuit of refreshments — the President looked particularly thirsty. Besides, the comfort of an air-conditioned coach was vastly to be preferred to the already uncomfortable heat out on the bridge.