apologize for any affront or inconvenience caused by me to your foreign guests.'
'Inconvenience!' The President's shoulders sagged as he invoked his tragic Muse. 'You don't know what irreparable damage you have done this day, Branson.'
'I wasn't aware that I had done any yet. Or are you referring to their Highnesses here? I don't see what damage I can have caused there. Or are you referring to your little trip to San Rafael today — I'm afraid we'll have to postpone that for a bit — to inspect the site of what will be the biggest oil refinery in the world?' He smiled and nodded towards the oil princes. 'They really have you and Hansen over a barrel there, don't they, Mr President — an oil barrel? First they rob you blind over oil sales, accumulate so much loot that they can't find homes for all of it, conceive the bright idea of investing it in the land of the robbed, come up with the concept of building this refinery and petro-chemical complex on the West Coast and running it themselves — with your technical help, of course — on their own oil which would cost them nothing. The foreseeable profits are staggering, a large portion of which would be passed on to you in the form of vastly reduced oil prices. Bonanzas all round. I'm afraid international finance is beyond my scope — I prefer to make my money in a more direct fashion. If you think your deal is going to slip through because of the offense now being given to those Arabian gentlemen you must be an awful lot more naive than a President of the United States has any right to be. Those are not gentlemen to be swayed by personal considerations. They have tungsten steel where their hearts should be and IBM computers for brains.' He paused. 'I'm not being very polite to your guests, am I?'
Neither the King nor Prince Achmed were quite so impassive now: their eyes, as they looked at Branson, were expressive of a distinct yearning.
Cartland said: 'You seem to be in no great hurry to get on with whatever you intend to get on with.'
'How right you are. The need for speed has now gone. Time is no longer of the essence except that the longer I spend here the more profitable it is going to be for me. That I shall explain later. In the meantime, the longer you remain here the more time it will give both you and your peoples both here and in the Gulf States to appreciate just what a pretty pickle you find yourselves in. And, believe me, you are in a pickle. Think about it'
Branson walked to the rear of the coach and spoke to the blond young soldier who was manning the massive communication complex. 'What's your name?'
The soldier, who had heard all that had gone on and obviously didn't like any of it, hesitated, then said grudgingly: 'Boyann.'
Branson handed him a piece of paper. 'Get this number, please. It's just local.'
'Get it yourself.'
'I did say 'please'.'
'Go to hell.'
Branson Shrugged and turned. 'Van Effen?'
'Yes?'
'Bring Chrysler here.' He turned to Boyann. 'Chrysler has forgotten a great deal more about telecommunications than you've learnt so far. You think I hadn't anticipated meeting up with young heroes?' He spoke again to Van Effen. 'And when you bring him take Boyann here out and have him thrown over the side of the bridge into the Golden Gate.'
'Right away.'
'Stop!' The President was shocked and showed it. 'You would never dare.'
'Give me sufficient provocation and I'll have you thrown over the side too. I know it seems hard but you've got to find out some way, some time, that I mean what I say.'
Muir stirred and spoke for the first time. He sounded tired. 'I think I detect a note of sincerity in this fellow's voice. He may, mark you, be a convincing bluffer. I, for one, wouldn't care to be the person responsible for taking the chance.'
The President bent an inimical eye on the Under-Secretary but Muir seemed to have gone to sleep. Cartland said in a quiet voice: 'Boyann, do what you are told.'
'Yes, sir.' Boyann seemed more than happy to have had the decision taken out of his hands. He took the paper from Branson who said: 'You can put it through to the phone by that chair opposite the President's?' Boyann nodded. 'And patch it in to the President's?' Boyann nodded again. Branson left and took his seat in the vacant armchair.
Boyann got through immediately: clearly, the call had been awaited.
'Hendrix,' the voice said.
'Branson here.'
'Yes. Branson. Peter Branson. God, I might have guessed!' There was a silence then Hendrix said quietly: 'I've always wanted to meet you, Branson.'
'And so you shall, my dear fellow, and much sooner than you think. I'd like to speak to you later. Meantime, I wouldn't be surprised if the President didn't want to have a word with you.' Branson stood up, not without difficulty, and offered both the telephone and seat to Morrison who in turn struggled to his feet and accepted the offer with alacrity.
The President ran true to the form of any President who might have been so unfortunate as to find himself in his position. He ran through the whole gamut of incredulity, outrage, disbelief and horror that not only the Chief Executive but, even more important, foreign potentates should find themselves in a situation so preposterous as to be, in his opinion, without parallel in history. He laid the blame, predictably, entirely at Hendrix's door — security cover, as the President knew all too well, was arranged by Washington and the local police forces did precisely what they were told to do, but the President's memory, logic and sense of justice had gone into a state of shock — and ended up by demanding that Hendrix's duty was to clear up the whole damnable mess and that he should do something about it immediately.
Hendrix, Who had a great deal longer time to consider the situation, remained admirably calm. He said: 'What do you suggest I do about it, sir?'
The incoherent splutterings that followed were indication enough that constructive suggestions were at that moment some light years away from the President's mind. Morrison took advantage of the momentary hiatus.
'Bernard? John here.' Morrison smiled without meaning to. 'The voters aren't going to like this, Bernard.'
'All one hundred and fifty million of them?'
Again the same smile. 'If we must think nationally, yes.'
'I'm afraid this is going to turn into a national problem, John. In fact, you know damn well it already is. And on the political side it's too big for either of us.'
'You cheer me greatly, Bernard.'
'I wish someone would cheer me. Do you think our friend would let me speak to the General?'
'I'll ask.' He asked and Branson nodded amiably enough. The other occupants of the coach eyed one another with a mounting degree of suspicion and apprehension, both directed against Branson. The man was too utterly sure of himself. And, as matters stood at that moment, there seemed to be little reason why he shouldn't be. He just didn't hold all the aces in the pack — he held a pack full of aces.
Hendrix said: 'General Cartland? Hendrix. The way I see it, sir, this is going to be as much a military operation as a police one. Much more so, if I'm any judge. I should call in the senior military officers on the coast?'
'Higher than that'
The Pentagon?'
'At once.'
'Local action?'
'Damn all. Wait until the situation stabilizes itself — and we find out what this madman wants.' Branson smiled politely but as usual the smile never touched his eyes. 'According to what he says himself — if you can believe a word he says — time is not of the essence. I think he wants to talk to you.'
Branson took the phone from Cartland and eased himself comfortably into the armchair. 'One or two questions and requests, Hendrix. I think I am in the position to expect answers and compliance with whatever I want. Wouldn't you agree?'
'I'm listening.'
'Has the news been broken yet?'
'What the hell do you mean broken? Half of San Francisco can see you stuck out on that damned bridge.'
