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‘Who says you did?’ He looked at Jeff. ‘You know your father has a long-standing and well-justified reputation for taking the law into his own hands?’
‘One does hear rumours, I have to admit. So you’d be a witness-stand guarantor for the good behaviour of one who is in need of care and protection?’ It was the first time that Jeff had smiled since he’d heard of his mother’s kidnapping.
Jablonsky said: ‘First time I ever heard anyone mention care and protection and Sergeant Ryder in the same breath.’
‘Jeff could be right.’ Ryder was unruffled. ‘I am getting on.’
Jablonsky smiled his total disbelief.
CHAPTER TWO (#u9f24251b-cc42-52fb-a9e4-91f1eb8cf630)
The office door, slightly ajar, had four splintered holes tightly grouped round the lock and handle. Ryder looked at them with no reaction, pushed open the door and walked inside. Sergeant Parker stopped from what he was doing, which was pushing scraps of paper around a desk-top with the rubber tip of a pencil, and turned round. He was a burly, pleasant-faced man in his late thirties who didn’t look a bit like a cop – which was one reason why his arrest record ranked second only to Ryder’s.
‘Been expecting you,’ he said. One hell of a business, just incredible.’ He smiled as if to alleviate the tension which Ryder didn’t seem to be feeling at all. ‘Come to take over, have you, to show the incompetents how a professional goes about it?’
‘Just looking. I’m not on this and I’m sure old Fatso will take great pleasure in keeping me off it.’ ‘Fatso’ referred to their far-from-revered police chief.
‘The sadistic blubber of lard would love to do just that.’ He ignored the slight frown of Dr Jablonsky who had never had the privilege of making the police chief’s acquaintance. ‘Why don’t you and I break his neck some day?’
‘Assuming he’s got a neck inside that twenty-inch collar.’ Ryder looked at the bullet-ridden door. ‘McCafferty – the gate guard – told me there was no shooting. Termites?’
‘Silencer.’
‘Why the gun at all?’
‘Susan is why.’ Parker was a family friend of long standing. ‘The villains had rounded up the staff and put them in the room across the hallway there. Susan just happened to look out of the door and saw them coming so she closed the door and locked it.’
‘So they blasted it open. Maybe they thought she was making a dive for the nearest telephone.’
‘You made the security report.’
‘That’s so. I remember. Only Dr Jablonsky here and Mr Ferguson were permitted direct lines to the outside. All other calls have to be cleared through the switchboard. They’d have taken care of the girl there first. Maybe they thought she was leaving through a window.’
‘Not a chance. From all I’ve heard – I haven’t had time to take statements yet – those villains would have been perfectly at home here with blindfolds on. They’d have known there was no fire-escape outside. They’d have known that every room is air-conditioned and that you can’t very well jump through plate-glass windows sealed like those are.’
‘Then why?’
‘Maybe in a hurry. Maybe just the impatient type. At least he gave warning. His words were: “Stand well to one side, Mrs Ryder, I’m going to blast open that door”.’
‘Well, that seems to prove two things. The first is that they’re not wanton killers. But I said “seem”. A dead hostage isn’t much good as a bargaining counter or as a lever to make reluctant physicists bend to their task. Second, they knew enough to be able to identify individual members of the staff.’
‘That they did.’
‘They seem to have been very well informed.’ Jeff tried to speak calmly, to emulate the monolithic calm of his father, but a rapidly beating pulse in his neck gave him away.
Ryder indicated the table-top strewn with scraps of torn paper. ‘Man of your age should be beyond jigsaws.’
‘You know me: thorough, painstaking, the conscientious detective who leaves no stone unturned.’
‘You’ve got all the pieces the right way up, I’ll say that for you. Make anything of it?’
‘No. You?’
‘No. Contents of Susan’s waste-paper basket, I take it?’
‘Yes.’ Parker looked at the tiny scraps in irritation. ‘I know secretaries and typists automatically tear up bits of papers destined for the waste-paper basket. But did she have to be so damned thorough about it?’
‘You know Susan. Never does things by halves. Or quarters. Or eighths.’ He pushed some of the scraps around – remnants of letters, carbons, some pieces of shorthand. ‘Sixteenths, yes. Not halves.’ He turned away. ‘Any other clues you haven’t come up with?’
‘Nothing on her desk, nothing in her desk. She took her handbag and umbrella with her.’
‘How do you know she had an umbrella?’
‘I asked,’ Parker said patiently. ‘Nothing but this left.’ He picked up a framed and unflattering picture of Ryder, replaced it on the desk and said à propos of nothing: ‘Some people can function efficiently under any circumstances. And that’s it, I’m afraid.’
Dr Jablonsky escorted them to the battered Peugeot. ‘If there’s anything I can do, Sergeant –’
‘Two things, as a matter of fact. Without letting Ferguson know, can you get hold of the dossier on Carlton? You know, the details of his past career, references, that sort of thing.’
‘Jesus, man, he’s number two in security.’
‘I know.’
‘Any reason to suspect him?’
‘None. I’m just curious why they took him as hostage. A senior security man is supposed to be tough and resourceful. Not the kind of man I’d have around. His record may show some reason why. Second thing, I’m still a pilgrim lost in this nuclear desert. If I need any more information can I contact you?’
‘You know where my office is.’
‘I may have to ask you to come to my place. Head office can put a stop order against my coming here.’
‘A cop?’
‘A cop, no. An ex-cop, yes.’
Jablonsky looked at him consideringly. ‘Expecting to be fired? God knows, it’s been threatened often enough.’
‘It’s an unjust world.’
On the way back to the station Jeff said: ‘Three questions. Why Carlton?’
‘Bad choice of hostage, like I said. Secondly, if the villains could identify your mother they could probably identify anyone in the plant. No reason why they should be especially interested in our family. The best sources of names and working locations of the staff is in the security files. Only Ferguson and Carlton – and, of course, Dr Jablonsky – have access to them.’
‘Why kidnap him?’
‘To make it look good? I don’t know. Maybe he wasn’t kidnapped. You heard what Ferguson said about the government not paying highly for unskilled jobs. Maybe greener fields were beckoning.’
‘Sergeant Ryder, you have an unpleasantly suspicious imagination. What’s more, you’re no better than a common thief.’ Ryder drew placidly on his cigarette and remained unmoved. ‘You told Jablonsky you never tampered with evidence. I saw you palm pieces of paper from the table where Sergeant Parker was trying to sort them out.’
‘Suspicious minds would seem to run in this family,’ Ryder said mildly. ‘I didn’t tamper with evidence. I took it. If it is evidence, that is.’
‘Why did you take it if you don’t know?’
‘You saw what I took?’
‘Didn’t look much to me. Squiggles, doodles.’
‘Shorthand, you clown. Notice anything about the cut of Jablonsky’s coat?’
‘First thing any cop would notice. He should have his coat cut looser to conceal the bulge of his gun.’
‘It’s not a gun. It’s a cassette recorder. Jablonsky dictates all his letters and memos into that, wherever he is in the plant, as usually as not when he’s walking around.’
‘So?’ Jeff thought for a bit then looked properly chagrined. ‘Guess I’ll just stick to my trusty two-wheeler and handing out tickets to traffic violators. That way my lack of a towering intelligence doesn’t show up so much. No shorthand required, is that it?’
‘I would have thought so.’
‘But why tear it up into little bits –’
‘Just goes to show that you can’t believe half the experts who say that intelligence is hereditary.’ Ryder puffed on his cigarette with just a hint of complacency. ‘Think I would have married someone who panicked and lacked resource?’
‘Like she runs from a room when she sees a spider? A message?’
‘I would think. Know anyone who knows shorthand?’
‘Sure. Marge?’
‘Who’s Marge?’
‘God damnit, Dad, your god-daughter. Ted’s wife.’
‘Ah. Your fellow easy rider on the lonely trails of the freeways? Marjory, you mean? Ask them around for a drink when we get home.’
‘What did you mean back there by saying to Jablonsky that you expected to be fired?’
‘He said it, not me. Let’s say I sense premature retirement coming up. I have a feeling that Chief Donahure and I aren’t going to be seeing very much eye to eye in a few minutes’ time.’ Even the newest rookie in the police force knew of the Chief of Police’s enmity towards Ryder, a feeling exceeded only by the massive contempt in which Ryder held his superior.
Jeff said: ‘He doesn’t much like me either.’
‘That’s a fact.’ Ryder smiled reminiscently. Some time before her divorce from the Chief of Police, Jeff had handed out a speeding ticket to Mrs Donahure, although he had known perfectly well who she was. Donahure had first of all asked Jeff, then demanded of him that he tear up the booking. Jeff had refused, as Donahure must have known he would in advance. The Californian Highway Patrol had the reputation, of which it was justifiably proud, of being perhaps the only police force in the Union that was wholly above corruption. Not too long ago a patrolman had handed out a speeding ticket to the Governor. The Governor had written a letter of commendation to police headquarters – but he still had to pay up.
Sergeant Dickson was still behind his desk. He said:
‘Where have you two been?’
‘Detecting,’ Ryder said. ‘Why?’
‘The brass have been trying to reach you at San Ruffino.’ He lifted a phone. ‘Sergeant Ryder and Patrolman Ryder, Lieutenant. They’ve just come in.’ He listened briefly and hung up. ‘The pleasure of your company, gentlemen.’
‘Who’s with him?’
‘Major Dunne.’ Dunne was the area head of the FBI. ‘Plus a Dr Durrer from Erda or something.’
‘Capitals,’ Ryder said. ‘E-R-D-A. Energy Research and Development Administration. I know him.’
‘And, of course, your soul-mate.’
Four men were seated in Mahler’s office. Mahler, behind the desk, was wearing his official face to conceal his unhappiness. Two men sat in chairs – Dr Durrer, an owlish-looking individual with bottle-glass pince-nez that gave his eyes the appearance of those of a startled fawn, and Major Dunne, lean, greying, intelligent, with the smiling eyes of one who didn’t find too much in life to smile about. The standing figure was Donahure, Chief of Police. Although he wasn’t very tall his massive pear-shaped body took up a disproportionate amount of space. The layers of fat above and below his eyes left little space for the eyes themselves: he had in addition a fleshy nose, fleshy lips and a formidable array of chins. He was eyeing Ryder with distaste.
‘Case all sewn up, I suppose, Sergeant?’
Ryder ignored him. He said to Mahler: ‘You sent for us?’
Donahure’s face had turned an instant purple. ‘I was speaking to you, Ryder. I sent for you. Where the hell have you been?’
‘You just used the word “case”. And you’ve been phoning San Ruffino. If we must have questions do they have to be stupid ones?’
‘My God, Ryder, there’s no man talks to me –’
‘Please.’ Dunne’s voice was calm, quiet but incisive. ‘I’d be glad if you gentlemen would leave your bickering for another time. Sergeant Ryder, Patrolman, I’ve heard about Mrs Ryder and I’m damned sorry. Find anything interesting up there?’
‘No,’ Ryder said. Jeff kept his eyes carefully averted. ‘And I don’t think anyone will. Too clean a job, too professional. No violence offered. The only established fact is that the bandits made off with enough weapons-grade material to blow up half the State.’
‘How much?’ Dr Durrer said.
‘Twenty drums of U-Two-Three-Five and plutonium; I don’t know how much. A truck-load, I should think. A second truck arrived after they had taken over the building.’
‘Dear, dear.’ Durrer looked and sounded depressed.
‘Inevitably, the threats come next?’
Ryder said: ‘You get many threats?’
‘I wouldn’t bother answering that,’ Donahure said. ‘Ryder has no official standing in this case.’
‘Dear, dear,’ Durrer said again. He removed his pince-nez and regarded Donahure with eyes that weren’t owlish at all. ‘Are you curtailing my freedom of speech?’ Donahure was clearly taken aback and looked at Dunne but found no support in the coldly smiling eyes. Durrer returned his attention to Ryder. ‘We get threats. It is the policy of the State of California not to disclose how many, which is really a rather stupid policy as it is known – the figures have been published and are in the public domain – that some two hundred and twenty threats have been made against Federal and commercial facilities since nineteen-sixty-nine.’ He paused, as if expectantly, and Ryder accommodated him.
‘That’s a lot of threats.’ He appeared oblivious of the fact that the most immediate threat was an apopletic one: Donahure was clenching and unclenching his fists and his complexion was shading into an odd tinge of puce.
‘It is indeed. All of them, so far, have proved to be hoaxes. But some day the threat may prove to be real – that is, either the Government or private industry may have to pay up or suffer the effects of a nuclear detonation or nuclear radiation. We list six types of threat – two as highly improbable, four reasonably credible. The highly improbable are the detonation of a home-made bomb made from stolen weapons-grade materials or the detonation of a ready-made nuclear bomb stolen from a military ordnance depot: the credible are the dispersion of radio-active material other than plutonium, the release of hi-jacked radio-active materials from a spent fuel shipment, the detonation of a conventional high explosive salted with strontium-ninety, krypton-eighty-five, cesium-one-three-seven or even plutonium itself, or simply by the release of plutonium for contamination purposes.’
‘From the business-like way those criminals behaved in San Ruffino it might be that they mean business.’
‘The time has to come – we know that. This may be the time we receive a threat that really is a threat. We have made preparations, formulated in nineteen-seventy-five. “Nuclear Blackmail Emergency Response Plan for the State of California”, it’s called. The FBI have the overall control of the investigation. They can call on as many Federal, State and local agencies as they wish – including, of course, the police. They can call on nuclear experts from such places as Donner in Berkeley and Lawrence at Livermore. Search and decontamination teams and medical teams, headed by doctors who specialize in radiology, are immediately available as is the Air Force to carry those teams anywhere in the State. We at ERDA have the responsibility of assessing the validity of the threat.’
‘How’s that done?’
‘Primarily on checking with the government’s computerized system that determines very quickly if unexpected amounts of fissionable material is missing.’
