Goodbye California - Alistair [139]
He then picked up Ryder’s overcoat and coat and examined them with excruciating thoroughness, paying particular attention to the linings and the hemmed stitching. Finally he returned them both to Ryder, keeping only the two ballpoints he had taken from the coat’s breast pocket.
During the time of this examination Morro’s physician was examining Jeff’s case with a thoroughness that matched Dubois’s examination of Ryder.
Dubois crossed to Morro, took a photograph, pulled a particularly unpleasant gun from his waist, reversed the photograph, handed one of the pens to Ryder and said: ‘The point is retracted. I do not care to press the button. People can do all sorts of things with ballpoints these days. I mean no offence, of course. Perhaps you would care to write something. My gun is on your heart.’
‘Jesus!’ Ryder took photograph and pen, pressed the button, wrote, retracted the point and handed both back to Dubois. Dubois glanced at it and said to Morro: ‘This is not a very friendly message. It says: “The Hell with you all”.’ He handed the other pen to Ryder. ‘My gun is still on your heart.’
Ryder wrote and handed the photograph back to Dubois, who turned to Morro and smiled. ‘“In triplicate”, he says.’ He handed both pens back.
Morro’s physician returned and handed the case back to Jeff. He looked at Morro and smiled gently. ‘Some day, sir, you will supply me with a medical case as superb as this one.’
‘We can’t all be the President of the United States.’ The doctor smiled, bowed and left.
Hillary said: ‘Now that all this needless tomfoolery is over may I ask you if you know something about the late evening habits of the President? I know we haven’t all night, but surely there is time –’
‘I am aware that I have been most remiss in my hospitality. But I had to observe certain precautions. You must know that. Gentlemen.’
Settled in Morro’s private office suite the company might have been sampling the sybaritic comforts of some exclusive country club. Two of Morro’s staff, incongruously – for them – in black-tied evening suits, moved around with drinks. Morro kept his usually impassive but occasionally smiling calm. It could have been the greatest moment of his life, but he wasn’t letting it show. He was sitting beside Hillary.
Hillary said: ‘I am the President of the United States.’
‘I am aware of that.’
‘I am also a politician and, above all, I hope, a statesman. I have learned to accept the inevitable. You will appreciate that I am in a dreadfully embarrassing position.’
‘I am aware of that also.’
‘I have come to bargain.’ There was a long pause. ‘A famous British Foreign Secretary once demanded: “Would you send me naked to the conference table?”’
Morro said nothing.
‘One request. Before I commit myself publicly, even to my cabinet, may I talk to you privately?’
Morro hesitated.
‘I bear no arms. Bring that giant with you if you will. Or do I ask too much?’
‘No.’
‘You agree?’
‘In the circumstances, I can do no less.’
‘Thank you.’ An irritable note crept into Hillary’s voice. ‘Is it necessary that we have three armed guards to watch eight defenceless men?’
‘Habit, Mr President.’
Muldoon was slumped forward in his chair – his massive back was almost to them – and Jeff, a stethoscope hanging from his neck, was holding a glass of water and some tablets in his hand. Hillary raised his voice and said: ‘The usual, Doctor?’
Jeff nodded.
‘Digitalis,’ Hillary said.
‘Ah! A heart stimulant, is it not?’
‘Yes.’ Hillary sipped his drink, then said abruptly: ‘You have hostages here, of course.’
‘We have. They have come to no harm, I assure you.’
‘I can’t understand you, Morro. Highly civilized, highly intelligent, reasonable – yet you behave as you do. What drives you?’
‘There are some matters I prefer not to discuss.’
‘Bring me those hostages.’
‘Why?’
‘Bring them or, as sure as God’s in heaven, I will not deal with you.