"MacLean, Alistair - The Golden Gate" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maclean Alistair)

'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.'

'That's no way to speak of my favourite bridge. Nation-wide is what I mean.'

'It'll get around fast enough.'

'See that it gets around now. The communication media, as those people term themselves nowadays, are going to be interested. I am prepared to allow, no, that's wrong, I insist that you put a helicopter, no, two helicopters at the disposal of some of the hundreds of news cameramen who will wish to record this historic event The Bay Area is thick with suitable machines, both military and civilian.'

There was a silence then Hendrix said: 'What the devil do you want those for?'

'Obviously, surely. Publicity. The maximum exposure. I want every person in America and indeed every person in the world who is within reach of a television set to see just what a predicament the President and 'his Arabian friends are in. And they are in a predicament, wouldn't you say?"

Another silence. 'This publicity, of course, you will use as a lever to get public opinion on your side, to help you obtain what you want, whatever that might be?'

'What else?'

Hendrix said heavily: 'You wouldn't like me to send a coach-load of reporters on to the bridge, would you?'

Branson smiled into the telephone. 'A coach-load of reporters I wouldn't mind but I don't much fancy a coach-load of FBI men armed to the teeth and disguised as reporters. No, I think well pass that one up. Besides, reporters we have, our own coach-load.'

'What's to prevent me from loading those helicopters up with troops, maybe paratroopers?'

Branson sighed. 'Only your own common sense. We've got hostages, or had you forgotten? A bullet can reach the President far more quickly than a paratrooper ever could.' Branson glanced at the President, whose expression indicated (that he clearly didn't care to be used as a bargaining counter.

'You wouldn't dare. You'd defeat your own ends. You'd 'have nothing left to blackmail us with.'

'I'd still have a king and a prince. Try me and see. You're whistling in the dark and you know it. Or do you want to go down in history as the man responsible for the deaths of a president, a king and a prince?' Hendrix made no reply. It was clearly not a role he envisaged for himself. 'However, it hasn't escaped me that there might be some death-or-glory hotheads who would stop at nothing in taking blind gambles, so I've got my second request to make now. This area is crammed with military stations-the Presidio itself, Fort Baker, Treasure Island, Forts Funston, Miley and Mason, Fort Barry, Cronkite-you name them, they're around and all within easy reach of here by road. I'd be very surprised if between them they cant rustle up the two mobile self-propelled rapid-fire anti-aircraft guns which I want on the bridge within the hour. Plenty of ammunition, of course-and the army will test them out first You know how some of that hardware gets afflicted with all kinds of jinxes.'

'You're quite mad.'

'A divine sort of madness. Instructions now.'

'I refuse.'