Goodbye California

CHAPTER FOUR

Ryder, Dr Jablonsky, Sergeant Parker and Jeff waited with varying degrees of patience as Marjory transcribed Susan’s shorthand, a task that took her less than two minutes. She handed her notepad to Ryder.

‘Thank you. This is what she says. “The leader is called Morro. Odd”.’

Jablonsky said: ‘What’s odd about that? Lot of unusual names around.’

‘Not the name. The fact that he should permit one — or more — of his men to identify him by his name.’

‘Bogus,’ Jeff said.

‘Sure. “Six foot, lean, broad-shouldered, educated voice. American? Wears black gloves. Only one with gloves. Think I see black patch over his right eye. Stocking mask makes it difficult to be certain. Other men nondescript. Says no harm will come to us. Just regard the next few days as a holiday. Bracing vacation resort. Not the sea. Can’t have anyone getting their feet wet. Meaningless chatter? Don’t know. Turn the oven off”. That’s all.’

‘It’s not much.’ Jeff’s disappointment showed.

‘What did you expect? Addresses and telephone numbers? Susan wouldn’t have missed anything, so that was all she had to go on. Two things. This Morro may have something wrong with both hands — disfigurement, scarring, amputation of fingers — and with one eye: could be a result of an accident, car crash, explosion, even a shoot-out. Then, like all criminals, he may occasionally be so sure of himself that he talks too much. “Not the sea, but bracing”. Could have been telling lies to mislead, but why mention it at all? Bracing. Hills. Mountains.’

‘Lots of hills and mountains in California.’ Parker sounded less than encouraging. ‘Maybe two-thirds. Just leaves an area about the size of Britain to search. And for what?’

There was a brief silence then Ryder said: ‘Maybe it’s not what. Maybe it’s not where. Maybe we should be asking ourselves why.’

The front-door bell rang for an unnecessary length of time. Jeff left and returned with the Chief of Police, who appeared to be in his customary foul mood, and an unhappy young detective called Kramer. Donahure looked around him with the thunderously proprietorial air of a house-owner whose premises have been invaded by a hippy commune. His glare settled on Jablonsky.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Funny you should ask that.’ Jablonsky spoke in a cold voice and removed his glasses so that Donahure could see that his eyes were cold too. ‘I was about to ask you the same.’

Donahure let him have some more of the glare then switched it to Parker. ‘And what the hell are you doing here?’

Parker took a slow sip of his gin, an action that had a predictable effect on Donahure’s complexion. ‘An old friend visiting an old friend. Maybe for the thousandth time. Talking over old times.’ Parker took another leisurely sip. ‘Not that it’s any of your goddamned business.’

‘Report to me first thing in the morning.’ Donahure’s larynx was giving him trouble again. ‘I know what you’re talking about — the break-in. Ryder is not only not on the case, he’s not a cop any more. You don’t discuss police business with the public. Now, get out. I want to talk to Ryder privately.’

Ryder was on his feet with surprising ease for a man of his bulk. ‘You’ll be getting me a reputation for down-right lack of hospitality. I can’t have that.’

‘Out!’ A difficult word to snarl but Donahure made a creditable attempt. Parker ignored him. Donahure swung round, crossed the room, lifted a telephone and yelped in agony as Ryder’s left hand closed over his arm. The ulnar nerve in the elbow is the most exposed and sensitive of all peripheral nerves and Ryder had powerful fingers. Donahure dropped the telephone on the table to free his right hand for the purpose of massaging his left elbow: Ryder replaced the phone on its rest.

‘What the hell was that for?’ Donahure rubbed his elbow industriously. ‘Right. Kramer. Book Ryder for assault and obstruction of justice.’

‘What?’ Ryder looked around. ‘Anyone here see me assault Fatso?’ Nobody, apparently, had seen anything. ‘Californian’s home is his castle. Nobody touches anything without my say-so.’

‘Is that so?’ Triumph overcame the throbbing nerve. He dug into a pocket and produced a piece of paper which he flourished at Ryder. ‘I’ll touch anything I like in this house. Know what that is?’

‘Sure. A search warrant with LeWinter’s name on it.’

‘It’s a warrant, Mister.’

Ryder took the warrant. ‘Law says I’ve the right to read it. Or didn’t you know?’ Ryder glanced at it for all of a second. ‘Judge LeWinter it is. Your poker-playing pal at City Hall. Next only to yourself the most corrupt official in town, the only judge in town who would issue you with a warrant on a trumped-up charge.’ He looked at the four seated people. ‘Now please watch the reactions of this upholder of public morality, especially his complexion. Jeff, would you have any idea what this trumped-up charge might be?’

‘Well, now.’ Jeff thought. ‘A trumped-up charge of theft, I’d think. A stolen driving licence? A missing police radio? Or something really ridiculous, like harbouring a set of binoculars with an LAPD stamp.’

Observe the complexion,’ Ryder said. ‘An interesting clinical study. Violet with overtones of purple. I’ll bet a good psychologist could make something of that. A guilt complex, perhaps?’

‘I’ve got it,’ Jeff said happily. ‘He’s come to search the place for evidence stolen from the scene of the crime.’

Ryder studied the warrant. ‘I don’t know how you do it.’

Donahure snatched the warrant back. ‘Too damn right. And when I do find it —’

‘Find what? That’s why it’s a put-up job — you’ve no idea what you’re looking for. You haven’t even been out to San Ruffino.’

I know what I’m looking for.’ He marched off to an adjacent bedroom then halted as he became aware that Ryder was following him. He turned. ‘I don’t need you, Ryder.’

‘I know. But my wife does.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She’s got some pretty nice jewellery in there.’

Donahure balled his fists, looked at Ryder’s eyes, changed his mind and stalked — if a hippopotamus could ever be said to stalk — into the bedroom, Ryder at his heels.

He started with a dressing-table drawer, rifled through a pile of blouses, left them in an untidy heap, slammed the drawer shut, moved to the next drawer and repeated his cry of pain as Ryder found the ulnar nerve again. In the living-room Parker rolled up his eyes, rose, picked up his own glass and that of Jablonsky and headed purposefully for the bar.

Ryder said: ‘I don’t like untidy people. Especially, I don’t want filthy fingers touching my wife’s clothing. I’ll go through her clothing and you can watch. As I’ve no idea what the hell you’re looking for I can’t very well hide it, can I?’ Ryder made a meticulous search of his wife’s clothing, then allowed Donahure to take over.

Jeff brought a drink into the kitchen. Kramer, leaning against the sink with his arms folded, looked glum and unhappy. Jeff said: ‘You look like a man who could do with a morale booster. Gin. Donahure is loaded up with bourbon. Never smell it.’ Kramer took the drink gratefully. ‘What are you supposed to be doing?’

‘Thanks. You can see what I’m doing. I’m searching the kitchen.’

‘Found anything yet?’

‘I will when I start looking. Pots and pans, plates and saucers, knives and forks — all sorts of things.’ He gulped some of his drink. ‘Don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to be looking for. Damned sorry about this, Jeff. What can I do?’

‘Just what you’re doing. Nothing. Inactivity becomes you. Any idea what our fat friend is looking for?’

‘No. You?’

‘No.’

‘Your father?’

‘It’s possible. If he knows he hasn’t told me. Not that he’s had a chance to.’

‘Must be something important. Something that makes Donahure pretty close to desperate.’

‘How come?’

‘Sergeant Ryder is how come. Or maybe you don’t know the reputation of the bogeyman?’

‘Ah.’

‘Yes. Takes a desperate man to provoke your old man.’

‘Like a man playing for high stakes. Well, now. You interest me.’

‘I interest myself.’

‘Looking for incriminating evidence, perhaps.’

‘Incriminating whom, I wonder?’

‘I wonder.’

Footsteps and voices approached. Jeff plucked the glass from Kramer, who had a drawer open before Donahure entered. Ryder was close behind him. Donahure gave Jeff the benefit of his customary glare.

‘What are you doing here?’

Jeff lowered the glass from his lips. ‘Keeping an eye on the cutlery.’

Donahure jerked a thumb. ‘Out.’ Jeff glanced at his father.

‘Stay,’ Ryder said. ‘Fatso’s the one who leaves.’

Donahure breathed heavily. ‘By God, Ryder, push me any more and I’ll —’

‘You’ll do what? Give yourself a heart attack by picking up your teeth?’

Donahure took it out on Kramer. ‘What did you find? Nothing?’

‘Nothing that shouldn’t be here.’

‘Sure you searched properly?’

‘Pay no attention,’ Ryder said. ‘If there was an elephant in this house Donahure would miss it. Never tapped a wall, lifted a rug, tried to find a loose tile, didn’t even look under a mattress. Couldn’t have had police schools in his days.’ He ignored Donahure’s apoplectic splutterings and led the way back to the living-room. He said to no one in particular: ‘Whoever made this oaf a chief of police was either mentally deficient or a victim of blackmail. Donahure, I’m now looking at you with what is known as undisguised contempt. You better go make a fast report to your boss. Tell him you’ve made a classic blunder. Two blunders. One psychological, one tactical. I’ll bet for once you acted on your own — no one with an IQ above fifty would have tipped his hand in that crass fashion.’

‘Boss? Boss? What the hell do you mean, boss?’

‘You’d make as good an actor as you are a police chief. You know, I do believe I’m right. Bluster — your only stock in trade, of course — but beneath bluster you’re running scared. “Boss”, I said. “Boss”, I meant. Every puppet needs his puppet-master. Next time you’re thinking of making any independent move I suggest you first consult someone with intelligence. One assumes your boss must have a little intelligence.’

Donahure tried out his basilisk stare, realized it was the wrong fit, turned on his heel and left. Ryder followed him to the front door. ‘Not your day, Donahure. But then it wasn’t quite Raminoff’s day either, was it? But I hope his had a better ending. I mean, I hope he managed to jump clear before he dumped your van in the Pacific’ He clapped Kramer on the shoulder. ‘Don’t look so perplexed, young man. I’m sure the Chief will tell you all about it on the way back to the station.’

He went back into the living-room. Parker said: ‘What was all that about, then?’

‘I’m not quite sure. I talked about his blunders and I’m sure I was right. He’d never make the lead in “The Great Stone Face”. I blundered myself, but in a different way. I blundered into what seemed to be a sensitive area. I wonder what that area could be…’

‘You said it yourself. He’s taking orders from someone.’

‘That crook’s been taking orders all his life. Don’t look so shocked, Dr Jablonsky. He’s a crook, and has been for as long as I’ve known him, which is far too long. Sure, the Californian police forces are no better than the other States in the Union as far as the three P’s are concerned — power, politics and promotion. But it is remarkably free from genuine corruption — Donahure is the exception that proves the rule.’

‘You have proof?’ Jablonsky said.

‘Just look at him. He’s living proof. But you would mean documented proof. That I have. What I’m going to say you can’t quote me on, because I didn’t say it.’

Jablonsky smiled. ‘You can’t faze me any more. As I said, I’ve got the hang of your double-talk now.’

‘Not for repetition. Ah! Something else.’ He picked up the picture with the shorthand. ‘Not for repetition either.’

‘I can tell Ted?’ Marjory said.

‘I’d rather not.’

‘Wait till I tell Susan you keep secrets from her.’

‘Okay. But a secret shared is no longer a secret.’ He caught her interrogative glance at Jablonsky and Parker. ‘My dear child, the first thing nuclear physicists and intelligence cops learn is how to guard their tongues.’

‘I won’t talk. Ted won’t talk. We just want to help.’

‘I don’t want your help.’

She made a moue.

‘Sorry.’ He took her hand in apology. ‘That wasn’t nice. If I need you, I’ll ask. I just don’t want to involve you in what may be a messy business.’

She smiled. ‘Thank you.’ Both of them knew that he would never ask.

‘Chief of Police Donahure. He has a rather special house, Spanish-Moroccan, swimming pool, wet bars everywhere, expensive furniture in awful taste, no mortgage. Mexican couple. Late model Lincoln, full payment on delivery. Twenty thousand dollars on bank deposit. Living high off the hog, you might say, but then Donahure doesn’t have a wife to spend all his money for him — understandably, he’s a bachelor. An acceptable life-style — he doesn’t get paid in pennies. What’s not so acceptable is that in seven different banks under seven different names he has just over half a million dollars salted away. He might have some difficulty in accounting for that.’

‘Nothing that goes on or is said in this house is going to surprise me any more.’ Jablonsky nevertheless managed to look surprised. ‘Proof?’

‘Sure he’s got proof,’ Jeff said. As Ryder didn’t seem disposed to deny this, he carried on: ‘I didn’t know until this evening. My father has a dossier on him, complete with signed affidavits, which would make very interesting reading in Sacramento.’

Jablonsky said: ‘This true?’

‘You don’t have to believe it,’ Ryder said.

‘I’m sorry. But why don’t you lower the boom on him? Repercussions wouldn’t matter a damn to you.’

‘They wouldn’t. But they’d matter to others. Nearly half of our friend’s ill-gotten gains come from blackmail. Three prominent citizens of this town, basically as clean and innocent as most of us are, which doesn’t say a great deal, have been badly compromised. They could also be badly hurt. I’ll use this document if my hand is forced, of course.’

‘And what would it take to force your hand?’

‘State secrets, Doc’ Parker smiled as he said it and rose to his feet.

‘So State secrets.’ Jablonsky rose also, then nodded towards the file he’d brought. ‘Hope that’s of some use to you.’

‘Thank you. Thank you both very much.’

Jablonsky and Parker walked together to their cars. Jablonsky said: ‘You know him better than I do, Sergeant. Ryder really cares about his family? He doesn’t seem terribly upset to me.’

‘He cares. Not much of a man for the emotional scene. He’ll probably be just as relaxed when he kills the man who took Susan.’

‘He would do that?’ Jablonsky seemed unhappy.

‘Sure. Wouldn’t be the first time. Not in cold blood, of course — he’d have to have a reason. No reason, he’ll just leave a nice challenging case for the plastic surgeon. And either of those two things could happen to anyone who gets in his way when he’s trying to get next to Morro, or whatever his name is. I’m afraid the kidnappers made a big mistake — they kidnapped the wrong person.’

‘What do you think he’s going to do?’

‘Don’t know. I’m just guessing when I say I know what I’m going to do, something I never thought I would. I’m going right home and say a prayer for the health of our Chief of Police.’

Jeff nodded towards the file Jablonsky had brought. ‘How about your homework? I always had to do it first thing when I came home.’

‘Uninterrupted thought for that one.’

‘I suppose he thinks that’s a gentle hint. Come on, Marge, I’ll take you home. See you when I see you.’

‘Half an hour.’

‘Ha!’ Jeff looked pleased. ‘So you’re not going to sit there all night and do nothing?’

‘No. I’m not going to sit here all night and do nothing.’

For some time after they had left it seemed as if he intended to do just that. After some minutes he put his photograph back in the frame, rose and placed it between two others on the upright piano. The one to the left was that of his wife: the other, that of Peggy, his daughter, a sophomore in arts at San Diego. She was a laughing girl with dancing eyes who had inherited her father’s colouring in eyes and hair but, fortunately, neither his features nor build, both of which belonged strictly to her mother. It was common knowledge that she was the only person who could wrap the formidable Sergeant Ryder round her little finger, a state of affairs of which Ryder was well aware and by which he appeared completely untroubled. He looked at the three photographs for some seconds, shook his head, sighed, removed his own and placed it in a drawer.

He made a call to San Diego, listened for a full half-minute and hung up. The next call he made was to Major Dunne of the FBI. After the first ring Ryder suddenly replaced the receiver. Some thought had evidently occurred to make him change his mind. Instead, he poured himself an unaccustomed Scotch, picked up the file on Carlton, sat and began to leaf through it, making neat, precise notes as he reached the foot of each page. He had just gone through it a second time when Jeff returned. Ryder rose.

‘Let’s go take a little ride in your car.’

‘Sure. Where?’

‘Anywhere.’

‘Anywhere? I can manage that.’ Jeff thought. ‘Donahure might be more persistent than one would give him credit for?’

‘Yes.’

They drove off in Jeff’s Ford. After half a mile Jeff said: ‘I don’t know how you do it. There was a stake-out. We’re being followed.’

‘Make sure.’

Jeff made sure. Another half-mile and he said: ‘I’m sure.’

‘You know what to do.’

Jeff nodded. He turned left at the first intersection, turned right up a poorly-lit lane, passed the entrance of a builder’s yard and came to a stop opposite a second entrance, turning his lights off. Both men got out and walked unhurriedly into the yard.

The car following drew up about fifty yards behind. A lean man of medium height, his face shadowed by a fedora that had become passé in the 1930s, emerged and walked quickly towards the Ford. He had just passed the first entrance when something told him that all was not well. He swung round, reached inside his coat, then lost all interest in what he was doing as a heavy toe-cap caught him just below the knee: in any event it is difficult to reach for a gun when hopping around on one leg and clutching the other with both hands.

‘Stop that noise,’ Ryder said. He reached inside the man’s coat, pulled out an automatic, transferred his grip to the barrel and struck the man squarely in the face with the butt. This time the man screamed. Jeff flashed a torch in his face and said in a voice that could have been steadier: ‘His nose is gone. Some of his top teeth too. They’re gone as well.’

‘So’s my wife.’ The tone of the voice made Jeff flinch and he looked at a man that he’d never seen before. ‘Ridden your luck too far, Raminoff. If I catch you within a mile of my house again you’ll be a month in Belvedere.’ Belvedere was the city hospital. ‘Then after that I’ll go and attend to your boss. Tell him that. Who is your boss, Raminoff?’ He lifted the gun. ‘You have two seconds.’

‘Donahure.’ It was a peculiar gurgling sound and one for which Raminoff could hardly be blamed: blood was pumping steadily from mouth and nose. Ryder watched him for a couple of dispassionate seconds, then turned on his heel.

Back in the Ford Ryder said: ‘Stop at the first phone booth.’ Jeff glanced at him questioningly but Ryder wasn’t looking at him.

Ryder spent three minutes in the booth and made two calls. He returned to the car, lit a Gauloise and said: ‘Drive home.’

‘We’ve got a phone there. Tapped?’

‘Would you put anything beyond Donahure? Two things. I’ve just made a call to John Aaron. Editor of the Examiner. No word yet from the kidnappers. He’ll let me know as soon as anything comes through. I’ve also made a call to Major Dunne of the FBI. I’ll be seeing him shortly. After you’ve dropped me off home I want you to come inside, pick up a gun and something that will serve as a mask and go out to Donahure’s place and find out whether he’s at home or not. Discreetly, of course.’

‘He’s having visitors tonight?’

‘Two. You and me. If he’s there call me at this number.’ He switched on a map light and wrote on a notepad, tearing the page off. ‘The Redox in Bay Street. Know it?’

‘By reputation.’ Jeff sounded severe. ‘A singles bar, full of gays and drug-pushers, not to mention addicts. Hardly your scene, I would have thought.’

‘Why I’m going there. Must say Dunne didn’t sound too happy about it either.’

Jeff hesitated. ‘Going to give Donahure the Raminoff treatment?’

‘It’s a tempting thought, but no. He’d have nothing to tell us. Anyone smart enough to pull off this raid would be smart enough not to establish any direct contact with a clown like Donahure. He would certainly use an intermediary, maybe even two. I would.’

‘Then what would you be looking for?’

‘I wouldn’t know until I have looked.’

Ryder was in disguise — he was wearing a freshly pressed business suit which only his family knew he possessed. Dunne, too, was in disguise: he wore a beret, dark glasses and a pencil moustache, none of which suited him and made him, as he was uncomfortably aware, look slightly ridiculous. But the grey eyes were as intelligent and watchful as ever. He looked in distaste at the oddly attired clientele, mainly teenagers and those in the early twenties, and sniffed the air in nose-wrinkling disgust.

‘Place smells like a damn bordello.’

‘You frequent those places?’

‘Only in the line of duty.’ Dunne smiled. ‘Okay, so no one would look for us here. Certainly I wouldn’t.’ He broke off as a creature in pink pantaloons deposited two drinks on their table and left. Ryder poured both into a convenient potted plant.

‘Can’t do it any harm. Teaspoonful of whisky topped up with water.’ He produced a flask from an inside pocket and poured generous measures. ‘Malt. Always prepared. Your health.’

‘Excellent. And now?’

‘Four things. One, our Chief of Police. For your information only. Donahure and I are not seeing eye to eye.’

‘You surprise me.’

‘Probably not half as surprised as Donahure is right now. I’ve been upsetting him. I’ve been the cause of his losing a van of his this evening — it fell off a cliff into the Pacific. I’ve confiscated some of his personal goods and interviewed a stake-out he set on me.’

‘He’s in hospital?’

‘He’ll need medical care. Right now I’d guess he’s reporting to Donahure on the failure of his mission.’

‘How did you pin him to Donahure?’

‘He told me.’

‘Naturally. Well, can’t say I’m sorry. But I did warn you — Donahure’s dangerous. Rather, his friends are. And you know how cornered rats behave. You have a tie-in between him and San Ruffino?’

‘Things point that way. I’ll look through his house later on tonight, see what I can find.’

‘He might be at home.’

‘What difference does that make? Then I think I’ll go have a word with Judge LeWinter.’

‘You will? He’s a different kettle of fish from Donahure. Spoken of as the next State Supreme Court Chairman.’

‘Still tarred with the same brush. What do you know of him?’

‘We have a file on him.’ Dunne peered at his glass.

‘That means he’s poison?’

‘I’m being non-committal.’

‘Yes. Well, something else for your file. Donahure called tonight with a search warrant on such an obviously trumped-up charge that only a crooked judge would have signed it.’

‘Any prizes for guessing?’

‘No. Number two. I’d appreciate your help in this and the next couple of matters.’ He drew Carlton’s file and the notes he had made on it from a large envelope. ‘Security deputy. One of the seven snatched this afternoon. His curriculum vitae or whatever you call it. Seems above-board.’

‘All the best villains are.’

‘Yes. Army, intelligence, two security jobs before coming to San Ruffino. As he’s always worked for the Army or the AEC his past should be an open book. However, I’d like an answer to those few questions I’ve noted, especially his past contacts. The contacts, no matter how unimportant, are the important things.’

‘You have reason to suspect this man Carlton?’

I’ve no reason not to, which is the same thing to me.’

‘Routine. Number three?’

Ryder produced another paper — Marjory’s transcription of Susan’s shorthand — and explained how he had come by it. Dunne read through it several times. Ryder said: ‘You seem to find this interesting?’

‘Odd. This bit about not getting wet feet. About once a year since the turn of the century some people in this State have been confidently expecting the second flood. Cranks, of course.’

‘Cranks and highly organized criminals like this Morro or whoever don’t go together?’

‘They’re not mutually exclusive either.’

‘Does the FBI have their names?’

‘Of course. Thousands of them.’

‘Forget it. If you were to lock up all the nonconformists in this State you’d have half the population behind bars.’

‘And maybe the wrong half at that.’ Dunne was pensive. ‘You mentioned the word “organized”. We do have groups of what you might call organized and successful cranks.’

‘Subversives?’

‘Weirdos. But weirdos who have managed to put it together in an acceptable and comprehensible fashion. Acceptable and comprehensible to them, that is.’

‘Many of those so-called organized groups?’

‘Haven’t seen the list lately. Couple of hundred perhaps.’

‘Just a handful. No stone unturned, is that it?’

‘And no avenue unexplored. I’ll get a list. But that’s not what you’re interested in. This Morro character. Fictitious name, of course. May have disfigurement or damage to hands and right eye. That’s easy. Number four?’

‘Bit more personal, Major.’ Ryder slid a photograph and piece of paper across the table. ‘I want this person taken care of.’

Dunne looked at the photograph with appreciation. ‘Lovely young lady. Obviously no relation of yours, so what’s the connection?’

‘Peggy. My daughter.’

‘Ah!’ Dunne was not an easy man to knock off stride. ‘Mrs Ryder must be a beautiful person.’

‘Well, thank you very much.’ Ryder smiled. ‘She’s a sophomore at San Diego. The address is the flat she shares with three other girls. Tried to phone her — that’s her number there — but no reply. I’m sure one of your men could find out where she is in no time. I’d like her to know what’s happened before she finds out on the radio or TV in some crowded discotheque.’

‘No problem. But that’s not all, is it? You said “taken care of”.’

‘They already have my wife. If Donahure is tied into this — and I’ll know within an hour — Morro and his friends might not like me.’

‘The request is unusual.’

‘So are the circumstances.’ Dunne was hesitating. ‘You have children, Major?’

‘Damnit, yes. I mean, damn you, yes. How old is Peggy?’

‘Eighteen.’

‘So’s my Jane. Blackmail, Sergeant, downright blackmail. All right, all right. But you know I’m supposed to be co-operating closely with Donahure. You’re putting me in a difficult position.’

‘What kind of position do you think I’m in?’ He looked up as pink pantaloons approached their table and looked at Ryder.

‘You Mr Green?’

‘Yes. How did you know?’

‘Caller said a wide man in a dark suit. You’re the only wide man in a dark suit here. Phone’s this way.’

Ryder followed and picked up the phone. ‘Well-built, my lad, not wide. What news?’

‘Raminoff’s been and left. Houseboy drove him. Still bleeding. Gone to some struck-off quack, probably.’

‘Donahure there?’

‘I don’t imagine Raminoff spent five minutes talking to the houseboy.’

‘Meet you at the corner of Fourth and Hawthorne. Ten minutes, maybe fifteen.’

Ryder had arrived back at his table but had not yet sat down when pink pantaloons appeared again. ‘Another call, Mr Green.’

Ryder was back inside a minute. He sat and brought out his flask again.

‘Two calls. The stake-out did in fact report back to Donahure. Going out there in a minute.’ Under Dunne’s puzzled gaze Ryder gulped the contents of his refilled glass. ‘Second call was from John Aaron. You know him?’

‘The Examiner? I know him.’

‘AP and Reuters are burning up the wires. Gentleman called them. You’d never guess the name he gave.’

‘Morro.’

‘Morro it was. Said he’d engineered the San Ruffino break-in of which he was sure they knew nothing about. Gave in specific detail the amount of Uranium Two-Three-Five and plutonium that had been taken, and asked any interested party to check with the power station. Also gave names and addresses of hostages and asked all interested parties to contact their relatives to check.’

Dunne was calm. ‘No more than what you expected. Your phone must be ringing constantly at the moment. Any threats?’

‘None. Just thought he’d let us know and give us time to consider the implications.’

‘Aaron say when the news is being released?’

‘Be an hour at least. TV and radio stations are jittery as hell. They don’t know whether it’s a hoax, or not, and they don’t want to appear the biggest fools in the West. Also, even if it were true, they’re not sure whether they’d be contravening national security regulations. Personally I’ve never heard of any such regulations. They’re apparently waiting confirmation and clearance from the AEC. If they get it there’ll be a simultaneous State-wide release at eleven.’

‘I see. Well, it gives me plenty of time to get a man around to your Peggy.’

I’d much appreciate that. In the circumstances, most people would have forgotten all about a mere teenager.’

‘I told you. I have one. She doesn’t think she’s there at all. You have your car?’ Ryder nodded. ‘If you drop me off at my place I’ll get hold of San Diego and have a couple of men assigned to the job in ten minutes. No sweat.’ Dunne became thoughtful. ‘You won’t be able to say that about the citizens of this State tomorrow. They’ll be sweating buckets. Clever lad, this Morro. Mustn’t underestimate him. He’s craftily reversed the old maxim of better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. Now it’s a case of worse the devil you don’t know than the devil you do. He’ll have everyone in fits.’

‘Yes. The citizens of San Diego, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Sacramento all wondering who’s going to be the first for vaporization, and each hoping to hell it’s going to be one of the other three.’

‘You seriously think that, Sergeant?’

‘I haven’t really had time to think about anything. I’m just trying to imagine how other people would think. No, I don’t seriously think so. Clever men like our friend Morro have an objective in mind, and indiscriminate annihilation wouldn’t be any way to achieve that. Threats would be enough.’

‘That’s what I would think. But, then, it will take the public some time to realize — if they ever do — that we’re up against a person of that kind of cunning.’

‘And for such a person the mental climate is just right. For him, it couldn’t be better.’ Ryder ticked off his fingers. ‘We’ve had the bubonic plague bugaboo. Didn’t come to much, granted, but it scared half the people out of their wits. Then the swine fever — you could say exactly the same about that. Now practically everybody in the State, especially those on the coast, has this obsessive and — what’s the word? —’

‘Paranoid?’

‘I didn’t make college. This paranoid fear about when the next, the biggest and perhaps the last earthquake is going to come. And now this. The nuclear holocaust — we know, at least we think we know there isn’t going to be any such thing. But try convincing people of that.’ Ryder laid money on the table. ‘At least it should take their minds off earthquakes for the time being.’

Ryder met Jeff as arranged. They left their cars at the intersection and made their way on foot up Hawthorne Drive, a steep, narrow and winding lane lined with palms.

‘The houseboy’s back,’ Jeff said. ‘He came back alone, so I should imagine Raminoff’s either having his nose set or is being detained for the night in the casualty ward. The house-boy and his wife don’t sleep in the house — there’s a little bungalow at the foot of the garden. They’re both inside there, for the night, I take it. Up this bank here.’

They scrambled up a grassy bank, pulled themselves over a wall and parted some rose bushes. Donahure’s house was built round three sides of an oblong swimming pool, with the centre section, a long, low living-room, brightly illuminated. The night had turned cool and steam over the pool hung motionless in the still night air, but not so opaque as to prevent the watchers seeing Donahure, glass in hand, pacing heavily up and down. The sliding glass doors were opened wide.

‘Go down to the corner there,’ Ryder said. ‘Hide in the bushes. I’ll get as close as I can to that lounge. When I wave my arm attract his attention.’

They took up position, Jeff among the rose bushes, Ryder, on the other side of the pool, in the dark shadow between two yew trees. (The Californians, unlike Europeans, do not relegate their yews and cypresses to graveyards.) Jeff made a loud moaning sound. Donahure stopped his pacing, listened, went to the opening between the sliding glass doors and listened again. Jeff repeated the sound. Donahure slipped off his shoes and padded silently across the tiles, a gun in his hand. He had taken only five steps when the butt of the Smith & Wesson caught him behind the right ear.

They used a pair of Donahure’s own handcuffs to secure him to the standpipe of a radiator, Scotch Tape from his desk to gag him and a table runner to blindfold him.

Ryder said: ‘The main entrance will be at the back. Go down to the bungalow and check that the houseboy and his wife are still there. When you return lock it, and if anyone rings don’t answer. Lock every door and window in the house. Pull the curtains here then start on that desk. I’ll be in his bedroom. If there’s anything to be found it will be in one of those two rooms.’

‘Still don’t know what we’re looking for?’

‘No. Something that would make you lift an eyebrow if you saw it in your house or mine.’ He looked around the room. ‘No sign of a safe — and you can’t have secret wall-safes in a wooden house.’

‘If I had as much on my conscience as you say he has I wouldn’t have anything in the house. I’d have it in a bank safe-deposit. Well, at least you’ve got the satisfaction of knowing that he’ll have a headache when he wakes.’ Jeff thought. ‘He could have a study or office or den — lots of these houses do.’

Ryder nodded and left. There was no such study. The first bedroom he came to was plainly unoccupied. The second bedroom was Donahure’s. Ryder used a pencil flash, established that the curtains of both windows were open, closed them and switched on overhead and bedside lights.

The immaculate room clearly reflected the efficient tidiness of the houseboy’s wife, a tidiness that made Ryder’s task that much easier. Ryder was painstaking, methodical, took all of fifteen minutes for his search and found nothing, for there was nothing to find. For all that, he made an interesting discovery. One wall cupboard was given over to a positive armoury of weapons — revolvers, automatics, shotguns and rifles with a copious supply of ammunition to match. There was nothing sinister in this: many American gun buffs had their own private armouries, frequently setting aside an entire gun-room to display them. But two particular weapons caught his attention — peculiarly-shaped light-weight rifles of a type not to be found in any gun store in America. Ryder took them both and a box of matching ammunition then, for good measure, pocketed three of the splendid collection of handcuffs that Donahure had hanging from hooks on the side. All those items he laid on the bed while he went to examine the bathroom. There was nothing there that there shouldn’t have been. He picked up his newly acquired possessions from the bed and rejoined Jeff.

Donahure, chin slumped on his chest, appeared to be asleep. With the rifle barrel Ryder prodded him far from gently in the region of his expansive solar plexus. He was asleep. Jeff was sitting by the desk looking down into an opened drawer. Ryder said: ‘Anything?’

‘Yes.’ Jeff looked pleased with himself. ‘I’m a slow starter but when I get going —’

‘What do you mean, a slow starter?’

‘Desk was locked. Took me some time to find the key — it was at the bottom of Fatso’s holster.’ Jeff deposited a bundle of currency notes on the table. They were in eight separate lots, each secured with an elastic band.

‘Hundreds of bills, all small denominations, looks like. What’s Donahure doing with hundreds of bills?’

‘What indeed? Got any gloves?’

‘Now he asks me. Do I have any gloves? Masks — hoods, rather — because you told me. Now that I — and I suppose you — have smeared fingerprints all over the shop you ask for gloves.’

‘Our fingerprints don’t matter. You think Donahure is going to report this matter and complain about the disappearance of all this money which we are about to take with us? I just want you to count the stuff and not smear up fingerprints. Old notes are no good, they could carry a hundred smears. Maybe some new notes. Count from the bottom left — most people and most tellers count from the top right.’

‘Where did you get those toys from?’

‘From Donahure’s toy shop.’ Ryder looked at the two rifles. ‘Always wanted one of those. Thought you might want one too.’

‘Rifles you have.’

‘Not those. I’ve never seen one. I’ve seen a diagram.’

‘What are they?’

‘You’ll be surprised. Unobtainable in this country. We think we make the best rifles in the world. The British think they do and the Belgians think the same of their own Nato rifles. Well, we don’t think, we say. But they all know that this is the best Light, deadly accurate, can be stripped down in seconds and hidden in the pockets of your top-coat. Splendid weapon for terrorists — as the British soldiers in Northern Ireland have found out to their cost.’

‘The IRA have those?’

‘Yes. It’s called the kalashnikov. If a person’s hunting you at night with one of those fitted with infra-red telescopic sights you might as well shoot yourself. Or so they say.’

‘Russian?’

‘Yes.’

‘Catholics and Communists make strange bedfellows.’

‘The people who use those in Northern Ireland are Protestants. An extremist splinter-group officially disowned by the IRA. Not that the Communists care very much with whom they associate as long as they can stir up trouble.’

Jeff took one of the rifles, examined it, looked at the unconscious Donahure and then at Ryder.

Ryder said: ‘Don’t ask me. All I know about our friend’s early background is that he’s a first-generation American.’

‘From Northern Ireland?’

‘From Northern Ireland. Fits in neatly. Probably fits in too neatly.’

‘Donahure — a Communist?’

‘We mustn’t look for a Red under every bush. No law against it — well, not since McCarthy departed the scene. I don’t think so, anyway. He’s too stupid and too selfish to be interested in any ideology. That’s not to say, of course, that he wouldn’t accept their money. Count those notes and then check the rest of the desk. I’ll go over the rest of the room.’

Ryder looked while Jeff counted. After some minutes Jeff looked up, his face alight. ‘Boy, this is interesting. Eight packets of notes, each containing one-thousand, two-hundred-and-fifty dollars. Ten thousand.’

‘So I was wrong. He’s now got an eighth unofficial bank account. Very interesting, I agree. But nothing to get excited about.’

‘No? There are several new notes in each packet. I’ve only made a quick check but as far as I can see they’re in series. And they’re the bicentennial two dollar notes.’

‘Ah, this is interesting. The one the ungrateful American public turned their thumbs down on. The Treasury had carloads of the stuff printed but there’s only a small percentage of it in circulation. If they really are in series, the FBI should be able to trace it without trouble.’

Nothing more came to light and they left five minutes later after freeing a now-stirring Donahure of his handcuffs, Scotch Tape and blindfold.

Major Dunne was still in his office, handling two phones at the same time. When he’d hung up Ryder said: ‘Not yet abed?’

‘No. And I don’t expect to be — not this night, anyway. I’ll have plenty of company in my misery. Statewide alert, twenty-four-hour basis, for every agent who could walk. Description of Morro has been telexed, or is being telexed, throughout the country. I’ve arranged for this list of the organized weirdos, but I won’t have that until tomorrow. Your Peggy has been taken care of.’

Jeff said to Ryder: Our Peggy?’

‘Forgot to tell you. The kidnappers have made a statement to AP and Reuters. No threats, just detailing what materials they’ve stolen and the names of the people they kidnapped. It will be released at eleven tonight.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Half an hour. I didn’t want your sister to have the shock of hearing of the kidnapping of her mother over the TV or radio. Major Dunne has kindly taken care of that.’

Jeff looked from one man to another then said: ‘It’s just a thought. But has it occurred to you that Peggy might be in danger?’

‘It is a thought and it has occurred.’ Dunne could be very precise and clipped in his speech. ‘It has also been taken care of.’ He peered at the rifles in Ryder’s hand. ‘Late hour to go shopping.’

‘We borrowed them from your friend Donahure.’

‘Ah! How is he?’

‘Unconscious. Not that there’s much difference between that and his walking state. He knocked his head against the butt of an automatic’

Dunne brightened. ‘Disgraceful. You had reason for taking those? Something special?’

‘I’m pretty sure. These are Kalashnikovs. Russian. Can you check with Washington, import controls, to see if any licences have been issued to bring those in? I very much doubt it. The Russians just love to unload their arms on anyone with the cash to pay, but it’s a fair guess they wouldn’t part with the most advanced rifle in the business, which this is.’

‘Illegal possession? That would make him an ex-chief of police.’

‘Unimportant. He’ll be that soon anyway.’

‘Communist?’

‘Unlikely. Of course, he’s capable of being an empty convert to anything if the money’s good enough.’

‘I’d like to have those, if I may.’

‘Sorry. Finders keepers. Want to admit in court that you abetted burglarious entry? Don’t be upset. Jeff’s got a little present for you.’ Jeff placed the wad of banknotes on the table. ‘Ten thousand dollars exactly. All yours. How many consecutively listed brand new two-dollar notes are there, Jeff?’

‘Forty.’

‘Manna,’ Dunne said reverently. ‘I’ll have the names of the bank, teller and drawer by noon tomorrow. Pity you weren’t able to find out the name of the drawer.’

‘Told you. Donahure was asleep. I’ll go back and ask him later on.’

‘Like that? May be pushing your luck, Sergeant.’

‘No. I’ve had the great misfortune to know Chief Donahure longer than you have. Man’s a bully. I know it’s commonplace to say that all bullies are cowards, which is not at all true: but in his case it is. Take his face. A disaster, but the only one he has and he probably cherishes it. He saw what happened to his stake-out’s face tonight.’

‘Mm.’ Dunne’s momentarily beatific expression had been replaced by a frown, and it wasn’t because of anything that Ryder had said. He tapped the bundle of notes. ‘This. How am I to account for this, to explain it away? I mean, where did it come from?’

‘Yes.’ It was Jeff’s turn to frown. ‘I didn’t think of it either.’

‘Easy. Donahure gave it to you.’

‘He what?’

‘Despite the fact that he has about half a million in ill-gotten gains salted away under seven or eight forged names, we all know that he’s basically a decent, upright, honourable man, deeply committed to the welfare of his fellow man, to upholding the rule of justice and ruthlessly crushing bribery and corruption wherever it raises its ugly head. He was approached by the syndicate responsible for the San Ruffino break-in and given this money in return for a blow-by-blow account of the steps being taken by the State and Federal authorities in investigating this case. You and he worked out a plan to feed false and misleading information to the crooks. Naturally, he handed you this tainted money for safe keeping. You have to admire the man’s unshakeable integrity.’

‘Ingenious, but you’ve overlooked the obvious. All Donahure has to do is to deny it.’

‘With his fingerprints all over those notes — especially those new ones? He’s either got to go with the story or admit that he had the notes cached away in the house which would leave him the awkward task of explaining where he got them from. Which option do you think he’ll elect?’

Dunne said admiringly: ‘You have a very devious mind.’

‘Set a thief to catch a thief?’ Ryder smiled. ‘Maybe. Two things, Major. When you or whoever handle those notes don’t touch the top right. Fingerprints, especially on the two-dollar bills.’

Dunne looked at the notes. He said: ‘I’d estimate there’s about two thousand bills there. You expect me to try them all for fingerprints?’

‘I said you or whoever.’

‘Well, thanks. And the second thing?’

‘Have you got a fingerprinting set here?’

‘Lots. Why?’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Ryder was vague. ‘You never know when those things might not come in handy.’

Judge LeWinter lived in a splendidly impressive house as befitted one widely tipped to become the next chairman of the State Supreme Court. Within a few miles of the Californian coast is to be found a greater variety of home architecture than anywhere, but, even by such standards, LeWinter’s home was unusual, a faithful replica of an Alabaman ante-bellum house, gleaming white, with its two-storey colonnaded porch, balconies, a profusion of surrounding magnolias and a plethora of white oak and long-bearded Spanish moss, neither of which seemed to find the climate very congenial. Within so imposing a residence — one couldn’t call it a home — could only dwell, one would have thought, a pillar of legal rectitude. One could be wrong.

How wrong Ryder and his son found out when they opened the bedroom door without the courtesy of a prior knock and found the legal luminary in bed, but not alone: and he wasn’t being not alone with his wife, either. The judge, bronzed, white-haired and white-moustached, the absence of a white winged collar and black string neck-tie an almost jarring note, looked perfectly at home in the gilded Victorian iron bedstead. Which was more than could be said for his companion, a sadly over-painted and youthful demi-mondaine who looked as if she would have been much more at home in what could delicately be termed as the outermost fringes of society. Both wore startled and wide-eyed expressions as people tend to wear when confronted with two hooded men bearing guns, the girl’s expression shading gradually into a guilty fear, the judge’s, predictably, into outrage. His speech was equally predictable.

‘What the devil! Who the hell are you?’

‘We’re no friends, you can be sure of that,’ Ryder said. ‘We know who you are. Who’s the young lady?’ He didn’t bother to wait for the inevitable silence but turned to Jeff. ‘Bring your camera, Perkins?’

‘Sorry.’

‘Pity.’ He looked at LeWinter. ‘I’m sure you would have loved us to send a snapshot to your wife to show that you’re not pining too much in her absence.’ The judge’s outrage subsided. ‘Right, Perkins, the prints.’

Jeff was no expert, but he was not long enough out of police school to have forgotten how to make clean prints. A deflated LeWinter, who clearly found the situation beyond him, offered neither objection nor resistance. When Jeff had finished he glanced at the girl and then at Ryder, who hesitated and nodded. Ryder said to her: ‘Nobody’s going to hurt you, Miss. What’s your name?’

She compressed her lips and looked away. Ryder sighed, picked up a purse which could only be hers, opened it and emptied the contents on to a dressing table. He rifled through those, selected an envelope and said: ‘Bettina Ivanhoe, eight-eight-eight South Maple.’ He looked at the girl, frightened, flaxen-haired, with high and rather wide Slavonic cheekbones: but for her efforts to improve on nature she would have been strikingly good-looking. ‘Ivanhoe? Ivanov would be nearer it. Russian?’

‘No. I was born here.’

‘I’ll bet your parents weren’t.’ She made no reply. He looked through the scattered contents of the purse and picked up two photographs, one each of the girl and LeWinter. That made her more than a one-time visitor. There had to be a forty-year gap in their ages. ‘Darby and Joan,’ Ryder said. The contempt in his voice was matched by his gesture of flicking the cards to the floor.

‘Blackmail?’ LeWinter tried to inject some contempt of his own, but he wasn’t up to it. ‘Extortion, eh?’

Ryder said indifferently: ‘I’d blackmail you to death if you were what I think you might be. In fact, I’d put you to death without any blackmail.’ The words hung chillingly in the air. ‘I’m after something else. Where’s your safe and where’s the key to it?’

LeWinter sneered, but there was — it could have been imagined — a hint of relief behind the sneer. ‘A cheap-jack heist-man.’

‘Unbecoming language from the bench.’ Ryder produced and opened a pen-knife, then approached the girl. ‘Well, LeWinter?’

LeWinter folded his arms and looked resolute.

‘The flower of southern chivalry.’ Ryder tossed the knife to Jeff, who placed the tip against LeWinter’s second chin and pressed.

‘It’s red,’ Jeff said. ‘Just the same as the rest of us. Should I have sterilized this?’

‘Down and to the right,’ Ryder said. ‘That’s where the external jugular is.’

Jeff removed the knife and examined it. The blade was narrow and only the top half-inch had blood on it. To LeWinter, who had stopped looking resolute, it must have seemed that the arterial flood-gates had burst. His voice was husky. ‘The safe’s in my study downstairs. The key’s in the bathroom.’

Ryder said: ‘Where?’

‘In a jar of shaving soap.’

‘Odd place for an honest man to keep a key. The contents of this safe should be interesting.’ He went into the bathroom and returned in a few seconds, key in hand. ‘Do you have staff on the premises?’

‘No.’

‘Probably not. Think of the stirring tales they could tell your wife. Believe him, Perkins?’

‘On principle, no.’

‘Me neither.’ Ryder produced three sets of handcuffs — all, until very recently, the property of the police chief. One set secured the girl’s right wrist to a bedpost, the second LeWinter’s left to the other bedpost, the third, passing behind a central head-rail, secured their other two wrists together. For gags a couple of pillow-slips sufficed. Before securing LeWinter’s gag Ryder said: ‘A hypocrite like you, who makes all those stirring speeches against the Washington gun lobby, is bound to have some lying around. Where are they?’

‘Study.’

Jeff began a meticulous search of the room. Ryder went below, located the study, located the gun cupboard and opened it. No Kalashnikovs. But one particular hand-gun, of a make unknown to him, took his attention. He wrapped it in a handkerchief and dropped it into one of his capacious coat pockets.

The safe was massive, six feet by three, weighing well over a quarter of a ton and built at some time in the remote past before safe-breakers had developed the highly sophisticated techniques of today. The locking mechanism and key were woefully inadequate. Had the safe been freestanding Ryder would have opened it without hesitation. But it was set into a brick wall to a depth of several inches, a most unusual feature for that type of safe. Ryder returned upstairs, removed LeWinter’s gag and produced his knife.

‘Where’s the cut-off switch for the safe?’

‘What damned switch?’

‘You were too quick in telling me where the key was. You wanted me to open that safe.’ For the second time that night LeWinter winced, more in apprehension than pain, as the knife tip punctured the skin of his neck. ‘The switch that cuts the alarm relay to the local sheriff’s office.’

LeWinter was more obdurate this time, but not markedly so. Ryder returned downstairs and slid back a panel above the study door to expose a simple switch. He clicked this off and opened the safe. Half of it was designed as a filing cabinet, the files, in the customary fashion, being suspended by metal lugs from parallel rails. Nearly all of those were given over to personal notes on court cases that had come before him. Two files were marked ‘Private Correspondence’, but apparently weren’t all that private, as some of them had been signed on his behalf by his secretary, (Miss) B. Ivanhoe: the young lady upstairs seemed to have carried secretarial devotion to her boss to lengths above and beyond the call of duty. In the shelves above only three objects caught his attention and were removed. One was a list of names and telephone numbers. The second was a leather-bound copy of Sir Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe. The third was a green and also leather-bound notebook.

As notebooks go it was large — about eight inches by five — and secured by a locked, brass clasp, a sufficient deterrent against the young or merely curious but of no avail against the ill-intentioned armed with a knife. Ryder sliced open the spine and rifled through the exposed pages — which told him nothing, inasmuch as they were covered with neatly-typed figures, not letters. He wasted no time on the notebook. He knew nothing of cryptography, which didn’t worry him: the FBI had its own highly specialized department of code-breakers who could decipher anything except the most highly sophisticated military codes, and even those they could do if given enough time. Time. Ryder looked at his watch. It was one minute to eleven.

He found Jeff methodically going through the pockets of LeWinter’s considerable number of custom-made suits. LeWinter and the girl were still resting comfortably. Ryder ignored them and switched on a TV set. He didn’t bother to select any particular station: the same programme would be on every one. Ryder didn’t bother to look at the screen. He didn’t appear to be watching anything at all but, in fact, he didn’t allow the couple on the bed to move out of peripheral vision.

The announcer, who might just coincidentally have been dressed anyway in a dark suit and tie, used his State funeral voice. He confined himself to the facts. The San Ruffino nuclear power reaction station had been broken into that late afternoon and the criminals had made good their escape, taking with them weapons-grade material and hostages. The precise amount of material taken was specified, as were the names, addresses and occupations of the hostages. Neither the person giving this information nor the source from which it had come had been identified, but the genuineness of the information was beyond dispute as it had been confirmed in detail by the authorities. The same authorities were carrying out an intensive investigation. The usual meaningless poppycock, Ryder thought; they had no leads to investigate. He switched off the set and looked at Jeff.

‘Notice anything, Perkins?’

‘The same thing as you were noticing. What you can see of Casanova’s face here didn’t show much change in expression. Didn’t show anything, in fact. Guilty as hell, I’d say.’

‘Good as a signed confession. That news was no news to him.’ He looked at LeWinter and appeared momentarily lost in thought before saying: ‘I’ve got it. Your rescuers, I mean. I’ll send along a reporter and a photographer from the Globe.’

‘Isn’t that interesting?’ Jeff said. ‘I do believe Don Juan has registered a slight change of expression.’

LeWinter had, in fact, registered a marked change in expression. The bronzed skin had assumed a greyish hue and the suddenly protuberant eyes seemed bent on parting company with their sockets. One could enjoy the Globe without being able to read too well. It specialized in artistic portraits of unclad feminine illiterates who spent their evenings reading Sophocles in the original, in candid shots of the newsworthy caught in apparently compromising or undignified situations, and, for the intelligentsia among their readers, extensive muck-raking couched in terms of holy crusades against shocked morality. All of this was, perforce, in the very simplest of prose. And such was the intolerable pressure brought to bear through the demands imposed by the clamorous urgency, the evangelistic immediacy and the socially important content of those journalistic imperatives that the overworked editorial staff were frequently and reluctantly compelled to encapsulate, hold over or, most commonly, altogether forget, such trivia as the international news or, indeed, any but the most salaciously elevating items of the local news. One did not require telepathic aid to guess that the judge’s mind was touching on such matters in general and, in particular, on page one, where the unretouched and considerably enlarged picture of himself and his handcuffed amorita would leave room only for the appalled caption.

Downstairs in the study Ryder said: ‘Glance through those court cases in the files. You may find something of interest, although I doubt it. I have a call to make.’ He dialled a number, and while waiting for his call to come through glanced at the list of names and telephone numbers he had taken from the safe. His number answered and he asked for Mr Jamieson. Jamieson was the night manager at the telephone exchange. He was on the line almost at once.

‘Sergeant Ryder here. Important and confidential, Mr Jamieson.’ Jamieson had delusions about his self-importance and liked to have those kept well stoked. ‘I have a number here and would be glad if you made a note of it.’ He gave the number, had it read back to him and said: ‘I think it’s Sheriff Hartman’s home number. Would you check and give me the address — it’s not in the book.’

‘Important, huh?’ Jamieson sounded eager. ‘Hush-hush?’

‘You don’t know how important. Heard the news?’

‘San Ruffino? My God, yes. Just now. Bad, eh?’

‘You just can’t guess.’ He waited patiently until Jamieson came back to him. ‘Well?’

‘You got the right name, right number. Classified, God knows why. One hundred-and-eighteen Rowena.’

Ryder thanked him and hung up. Jeff said: ‘Who’s Hartman?’

‘Local sheriff. That safe is wired to his office. Missed something up there, didn’t you?’

‘I know.’

‘How?’

‘If I hadn’t missed it you wouldn’t mention it.’

‘You noticed how readily LeWinter parted with the key to that safe. What does that tell you about Sheriff Hartman?’

‘Nothing much. Correction, nothing good.’

‘Yes. The number of people by whom LeWinter would willingly be found in such a scandalous and compromising situation must be very few. But he knows that Sheriff Hartman wouldn’t talk. So there’s a bond between them.’

‘LeWinter could have a friend in this world.’

‘We’re talking about probabilities, not the near-impossible. Blackmail? Unlikely. If the judge were blackmailing Hartman this would be a once-in-a-lifetime chance for the sheriff to make sure that the blackmail ended here and now. LeWinter could be the victim but I can’t see it that way. What I do see is that they are in some very profitable business together. Criminal business. An honest judge would never compromise himself by going into business with a lawman. Anyway, I know LeWinter is bent. I know nothing about this Hartman but he’s probably the same.’

‘As honest — if unemployed — cops it’s our duty to find out what Hartman’s bent about. In what now appears to be the usual fashion?’ Ryder nodded. ‘Donahure can wait?’

‘He’ll keep. Turned up anything?’

‘Hell, no. All these “whereases” and “whereofs” and “here-intofores” are too much for me.’

‘You can forget it. Even LeWinter wouldn’t express his deepest thoughts — or criminal intentions — in legalese.’ Ryder again dialled a number, waited then said: ‘Mr Aaron? Sergeant Ryder here. Now don’t get me wrong, but how would you like one of your photographers to take a picture of a prominent citizen caught in a compromising situation?’

Aaron’s tone was uncomprehending. Not cold: just not understanding. ‘I am surprised, Sergeant. You know that the Examiner is not a yellow tabloid.’

‘Pity. I thought you were and would be interested in Judge LeWinter’s peccadilloes.’

‘Ah!’ LeWinter ranked with Chief Donahure at the top of the list of Aaron’s target for special editorials. ‘What’s that crooked old goat up to now?’

‘He’s not up to anything. He’s lying down. He’s with his secretary who is young enough to be his grand-daughter. When I say “with” I mean “with”. He’s handcuffed to her, and they’re both handcuffed to the bed.’

‘Good God!’ Aaron made a coughing sound, probably trying to stifle laughter. ‘Intrigues me vastly. Sergeant. But I’m still afraid we couldn’t publish —’

‘No one asked you to publish anything. Just take a photograph.’

‘I see.’ There was a brief silence. ‘All you want is for him to know that such a picture has been taken?’

‘That’s it. I’d be glad if your boys would maintain the fiction I’ve told him — that I was sending people from the Globe.’

This time Aaron positively cackled. ‘That would make him happy!’

‘He’s having fits. Many thanks. I’m leaving the handcuff keys on the study table.’

Dunne, as he’d promised, was still in his office when they returned. Ryder said: ‘Progress?’

‘Damn all. Almost impossible to make an outgoing call. Switchboard’s been jammed since the news announcement. At least a hundred people have seen the criminals — in, as usual, a hundred different places. You?’

‘Don’t know. You’ll have to help us if you will. First off, here are Judge LeWinter’s fingerprints.’

Dunne looked at him in disbelief. ‘He gave you his fingerprints?’

‘Sort of.’

‘I warned you, Ryder. Tangle with that old bird and you step out of your class. Donahure has powerful friends only locally but LeWinter has them’where it counts — in Sacramento. Don’t tell me you used violence again.’

‘Certainly not. We left him peacefully in bed and unharmed.’

‘Did he recognize you?’

‘No. We wore hoods.’

‘Well, thank you very much. As if I haven’t got enough on my hands. Do you know what kind of hornet’s nest you’ll have stirred up? And where will it all end up? In my lap?’ He closed his eyes. ‘I know who’ll be the next caller on those damned phones.’

‘Not LeWinter. He’s a bit restricted right now. Matter of fact we left him handcuffed to a bedpost and his secretary. They were there when we arrived. She’s Russian.’

Dunne closed his eyes again. When he’d assimilated this and steeled himself for whatever was to come, he said carefully: ‘And?’

‘This is interesting.’ Ryder unwrapped the hand-gun he had taken. ‘One wonders what an upright judge is doing with a silenced automatic. Can you have it tested for fingerprints? Incidentally, the girl’s fingerprints are already there. This is a notebook, coded. I imagine the key is in this copy of Ivanhoe. Perhaps the FBI can find out. Finally, this is his private list of telephone numbers. They may or may not be significant but I’ve neither the time nor the facilities to find out.’

Dunne was heavily sarcastic. ‘Anything else you’d like me to do for you?’

‘Yes. A copy of the file you have on LeWinter.’

Dunne shook his head. ‘FBI personnel only.’

‘Would you listen to him,’ Jeff said. ‘After all the legwork we do for him, after all the valuable clues we put in his hands —’

‘Okay, okay. But I’m promising nothing. Where to now?’

‘To see another lawman.’

‘He has my advance sympathies. Do I know him?’

‘No. And I don’t. Hartman. Must be new. Anyway, he’s in Redbank. County division.’

‘What has this unfortunate done to incur your displeasure?’

‘He’s a pal of LeWinter’s.’

‘That, of course, explains everything.’

Hartman lived in a small and unpretentious bungalow on the outskirts of town. For a detached Californian house it was virtually a slum: it had no swimming pool. Ryder said: ‘His association with LeWinter must be pretty recent.’

‘Yes. Lets the side down, doesn’t he? Door’s open. Do we knock?’

‘Good heavens, no.’

They found Hartman seated at his desk in a small study. He was a large, heavily-built man and must have stood several inches over six feet when he stood up: but Sheriff Hartman would never stand up again. Somebody had carefully cross-filed a soft-nosed bullet which had entered by the left cheek-bone. The dum-dum effect had taken off the back of his head.

It was pointless to search the house; whoever had been there before them would have made certain that nothing incriminating a third party — or parties — had been left behind.

They took the dead man’s fingerprints and left.