Goodbye California

  ‘This little demonstration of my nuclear resources inconvenienced nobody and hurt nobody. The next demonstration will be on a vastly larger scale, may well inconvenience millions and may well prove disastrous for an untold number of people if they are so stupid as to fail to appreciate the gravity of this warning. However, I am sure you would first like scientific confirmation, on the highest level, that I do have the means to hand. Professor Burnett?’

  ‘He’s got the means, all right, the blackhearted bastard.’ For a man of unquestionably brilliant intellect Burnett was singularly lacking in resource when it came to the selection of suitable epithets. ‘I hate to use the word “beg” in the presence of a monstrous lunatic but I do beg you to believe me that he has the resources he claims. Of that my fellow physicists and I are in no doubt. He has no fewer than eleven hydrogen nuclear devices here, any one of which could, say, turn Southern California into a desert as lifeless as Death Valley. They are in the three-and-a-half megaton range – that is, each has the explosive potential of three-and-a-half million tons of TNT. You will appreciate the significance of what I mean when I say this bomb is about two hundred times as powerful as the one that destroyed Hiroshima. And he has eleven of those monsters.

  ‘Correction. He has only ten here. The other is already in position. Where this crazy bastard intends to put it –’

  Morro interrupted. ‘Revealing the location of the weapon is a privilege I reserve for myself. Dr Schmidt, Dr Healey, Dr Bramwell, perhaps you would be so kind as to confirm your colleague’s statement.’ With varying degrees of forcefulness, gravity and outrage all three left listeners in no doubt as to the chilling genuineness of the threat. When Bramwell had finished Morro said: ‘And now, the most telling confirmation of all, that of Professor Aachen, probably the country’s leading nuclear weaponry physicist, who personally supervised every step in the building of the bombs. Professor Aachen, you may recall, vanished some seven weeks ago. He has been working with me ever since.’

  ‘Working with you? Working with you?’ Aachen’s voice held the high quavering note of senility. ‘You monster! You – you – I would never work with you –’ He broke into a weak sobbing and there was a brief silence.

  ‘He’s been tortured!’ Burnett’s voice was a shout. ‘Tortured, I tell you. He and six kidnapped technicians have been subjected to the most unspeakable –’ His voice broke off in a peculiar gasp which sounded as if he was being strangled, which he probably was.

  ‘How you do run on, Professor Burnett.’ Morro’s tone was resigned. ‘Well, Professor Aachen. About the viability of those bombs?’

  ‘They will work.’ The voice was low and still shaking.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I built them.’ Aachen sounded desperately weary. ‘There are half a dozen nuclear physicists – if I were to give the design characteristics –’

  ‘That will not be necessary.’ There was a brief silence then Morro went on: ‘Well, that’s it. All the confirmation that any but the most mentally retarded should ever require. One small correction. Although the ten bombs remaining here are all of the three-and-a-half megaton range the one already placed in position is only of the one-and-a-half megaton range because, frankly, I am uncertain of the effect of a three-and-a-half megaton bomb which may unleash forces I do not wish unleashed – not, that is, as yet.’ Here he paused.

  Dunne said with conviction: ‘He’s quite crazy.’

  ‘That’s as may be,’ Ryder said. ‘One thing, he’d have made one hell of an actor. Pause for effect. Timing.’

  Morro said: ‘This bomb, a mere twenty inches by forty inches – it would fit into a car trunk – lies on the floor of the Pacific, off Los Angeles, roughly on the outskirts of Santa Monica Bay. When it is detonated, the resultant tsunamai – tidal wave – will, it is calculated, be between fifteen and twenty feet high, although it may well reach twice this height when being funnelled through the east-west streets of Los Angeles. The effects will be felt at least as far north as Point Arguello and as far south as San Diego. Residents in the Channel Islands – particularly, I should mention, Santa Catalina – should seek high ground. One unknown, I am afraid, is that it might trigger off the Newport-Inglewood Fault, but then I would expect that area of the city to be evacuated anyway.

  ‘I need hardly warn against any foolish attempts to locate this device. The device can be detonated at any time and will be if any attempt is made to interfere with it and if this should occur before any attempt is made to evacuate the area the results could not fail to be catastrophic. What I am saying is that any person or persons responsible for sending any aircraft or ships to investigate the area roughly between Santa Cruz Island and Santa Catalina will be directly responsible for the deaths of countless thousands.

  ‘I have certain demands to make which will be announced at one p.m. If they are not met by midnight I will trigger the hydrogen bomb at ten a.m. tomorrow morning. If, after that, the demands are still not met, the next bombs – not bomb but all the remaining bombs – will go off at some time between dusk and dawn on Saturday night.’

  On this cheerful note Morro ended his message. The newscaster made to introduce his panel of experts but Dunne switched off the set with the observation that if Morro was uncertain as to the effects of the explosion then it was unlikely that the so-called experts had a clue. ‘Well, Ryder, consider yourself a prophet with honour. Inspired. We get our feet wet. Believe him?’

  ‘Sure. Don’t you?’

  ‘Yes. What to do?’

  ‘That’s a matter for the authorities whoever they might be. Me, I take to the hills.’

  Delage said: ‘I simply don’t believe it.’

  ‘Bully for you,’ Dunne said. ‘The spirit that won the West. Tell you what. Leave me the details of your next of kin and stroll along the sea-front at Long Beach tomorrow. Better still, take a deck-chair on the Santa Catalina ferry.’ He bent a cold glance on the unfortunate Delage, then turned to Ryder. ‘You would say the Los Angelinos are going to be rather pre-occupied for the rest of the day?’

  ‘Look on the bright side. The greatest break ever for the most neurotic city ever. The perfect excuse for giving full and public rein to all those hidden phobias and neuroses. The pharmaceutical shops should be doing a roaring trade for the rest of the day.’

  Parker said: ‘He clearly doesn’t expect this second warning to be sufficient, or he wouldn’t have all those back-up bombs. Jesus, his demands must be sky-high.’

  ‘And we don’t know what those demands are yet.’ Dunne sighed. ‘Two hours yet. Evil bastard. He certainly knows how to turn down the screw on psychological tension.’ He thought briefly. ‘I wonder why he didn’t erase those references to torture. Rather spoils his image, no?’

  ‘Did you believe it?’ Ryder said. Dunne nodded. ‘That’s it then. That was no act; that was for real. Conviction. Authenticity. What interests me more is that Morro may be growing careless, or that he may be so sure of himself that he’s talking too much. Why did he forbid Aachen to give any specifications about the bombs and then gratuitously inform us that it was about twenty by forty inches or something of the kind? It was not in character. He’s an economical speaker, and that was unnecessary. If Aachen had given us details they would have been accurate. Granted, Morro didn’t give us any specifications but I have a faint suspicion that the measurements given were inaccurate. If they were, why should he want to mislead us?’

  ‘I don’t follow,’ Dunne said. ‘What are you getting at?’

  ‘I wish I knew. It would be instructive to find out what kind of bombs Aachen was in the habit of designing. I mean, if he didn’t know about the design how could he supervise the construction? I wonder if you could find out.’

  I’ll phone the director and try. I wouldn’t have much hope. That would be top secret and there are some people with whom the FBI have very limited power of investigation. The Atomic Energy Commission is one of those.’

  ‘Even in a national emer
gency?’

  ‘I said I’ll try.’

  ‘And can you find out anything about Sheriff Hartman’s background? Not police records. We can be sure that either LeWinter or Donahure or both had a hand in his installation in which case his records are bound to be faked. His true background.’

  ‘We’re ahead of you, Sergeant. It’s in hand.’

  ‘Well, thanks. In view of what we’ve just heard what do you feel now about my intentions of going to trample all over LeWinter’s civic rights?’

  ‘LeWinter? Who’s LeWinter?’

  ‘Just so,’ Ryder said and left followed by Parker and Jeff.

  They stopped off at the Examiner building. Ryder went inside, spoke briefly to Aaron, the editor, and emerged within two minutes, a buff envelope in his hand. Inside the car he extracted a photograph and showed it to Parker and Jeff. Parker studied it with interest.

  ‘Beauty and the Beast? April and December? How much do you think the Globe would give us for this masterpiece?’

  LeWinter was at home and had the look of a man who didn’t intend to leave it. If he was informed by the spirit of joie de vivre and goodwill towards his fellow man he was concealing it well. In fact he made no attempt to conceal his displeasure as the three policemen bustled him into his own luxurious lounge. Parker did the talking.

  ‘We’re from Central. We’d like to ask you a few questions.’

  ‘I’m a judge.’ The cold dignity came off in neither tone nor expression. ‘Where’s your warrant?’

  ‘You were a judge. “Were” or “are”, you’re stupid. For questions, no warrant. Which leads me rather neatly into the first question. Why did you provide Donahure with signed blank search warrants? Don’t you know that’s illegal? You, a judge? Or do you deny it?’

  ‘Most certainly I deny it.’

  ‘That was a foolish thing for a supposedly learned judge to say. Do you think we would make such an accusation unless we could substantiate it? We have them. You can see them down at the station. Well, that’s for starters. We’ve established you’re a liar. Henceforth, every statement you make will automatically be disbelieved unless we have independent corroboration. Still deny it?’

  LeWinter said nothing. Parker had an excellent line in intimidation and demoralization.

  Parker went on: ‘We found them in his safe. We searched his house.’

  ‘On what grounds?’

  ‘You’re no longer a judge. He’s under arrest.’

  LeWinter forgot he was no longer a judge. ‘On what grounds?’

  ‘Bribery and corruption. You know, blackmail, taking dirty money and dishing it out to dishonest cops. Kept most of it for himself, though.’ He looked reproachfully at LeWinter. ‘You should have taught him the basic tricks of the trade.’

  ‘What the devil do you mean?’

  ‘How to stash away illegal money. Did you know he had half a million in eight accounts? He should have been sophisticated, shouldn’t he? The clown stashed it away in local accounts. Switzerland’s the place. Your numbered account in Zurich. We have it. Bank’s been co-operative.’

  LeWinter’s attempted look of outrage fell just short of the pathetic. ‘If you’re insinuating that I, a senior judge of the State of California, have been involved in any illegal financial transactions –’

  ‘Shut up and save it for a real judge. We’re not insinuating. We know. And perhaps you would care to explain how come that ten thousand dollars found in Donahure’s possession had your prints all over them?’

  LeWinter didn’t care to explain. His eyes were moving restlessly from side to side but it couldn’t have been because of any thought of escape in his mind: he could not bear himself to meet the three pairs of coldly accusing eyes.

  Parker had LeWinter on the hook and had no intention of letting him get off it. ‘Not that that’s the only thing that Donahure’s been charged with. Oh, no. Unfortunately for you. He also faces a rap and certain conviction for attempted murder and murder, witnesses and confession respectively. On the murder rap you will be charged as an accessory.’

  ‘Murder? Murder!’ In the course of his legal practice LeWinter must have heard the word a thousand times, but it was long odds that it had ever affected him as it did now.

  ‘You’re a friend of Sheriff Hartman, aren’t you?’

  ‘Hartman?’ LeWinter was caring less and less for the line the conversation was taking.

  ‘So he says. After all, you do have an alarm connected from your safe to his office.’

  ‘Ah! Hartman.’

  ‘Ah, as you say, Hartman. Seen him recently?’

  LeWinter had actually started wetting his lips, that indication of corrosive anxiety to which he had succeeded in reducing hundreds of suspects over the years. ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘But you can remember what he looked like, I hope. You’d never recognize him now. Honestly. Back of his head blown off. Downright uncivil of you to have your friend’s head blown off.’

  ‘You’re mad. You’re crazy.’ Even the most newly qualified intern would have disapproved of LeWinter’s peculiar complexion which had acquired all the healthy vitality of a corpse. ‘You’ve no proof.’

  ‘Don’t be so original. No proof. That’s what they all say when they’re guilty. Where’s your secretary?’

  ‘What secretary?’ The latest switch in attack seemed to have a momentarily paralysing effect on his thought processes.

  ‘God help us.’ Parker lifted his eyes upwards in temporary supplication. ‘Rather, God help you. Bettina Ivanhoe. Where is she?’

  ‘Excuse me.’ LeWinter went to a cupboard, poured himself some bourbon and drank it in one gulp. It didn’t seem to do him any good.

  Parker said: ‘You may have needed that but that wasn’t why you took it. Time to think, isn’t that it? Where is she?’

  ‘Gave her the day off.’

  ‘Whisky didn’t help. Wrong answer. When did you speak to her?’

  ‘This morning.’

  ‘Another lie. She’s been in custody since last night, assisting police with their enquiries. So you didn’t give her a day off,’ Parker was quite without pity. ‘But it seems you gave yourself a day off. Why aren’t you down in the courts dispensing justice in your usual even-handed fashion?’

  ‘I’m not well.’ His appearance bore him out. Jeff looked at his father to see if he would stop the ruthless interrogation but Ryder was regarding LeWinter with what appeared to be an expression of profound indifference.

  ‘Not well? Compared to the way you’re going to feel very soon – when you’re in your court being tried for murder – you’re in blooming health. You’re at home because one of your criminal accomplices, masters more like, called you from Bakersfield and told you to lie low. Tell me, how well do you know Miss Ivanhoe? You know, of course, that her proper name is Ivanov?’

  LeWinter had further recourse to his liquor cupboard. He said wearily, almost despairingly: ‘How long is this – this inquisition to go on?’

  ‘Not long. If you tell the truth, that is. I asked a question.’

  ‘How well – she’s my secretary. That’s enough.’

  ‘No more than that?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  Ryder stepped forward and showed LeWinter the photograph he’d collected from the Examiner office. LeWinter stared at it as if hypnotized, then got back to his lip-licking.

  ‘A nice kid.’ Ryder was being conversational. ‘Blackmail, of course. She’s told us. Not with this end in view – this is just a spin-off. Principally, as we know, she came in handy for the translation of phony Russian documents.’

  ‘Phony?’

  ‘Ah! So the documents do exist. I wonder why Morro wanted you to provide him with the names of engineers, drillers, oil-rig men. Even more, I wonder why twenty-six of them are missing.’

  ‘God knows what you’re talking about.’

  ‘And you. Watch TV this morning?’ LeWinter shook his head in a dazed and uncomprehending manner. ‘S
o perhaps you don’t know he’s detonating a hydrogen bomb in Santa Monica Bay or thereabouts at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.’ LeWinter made no reply and registered no expression, no doubt because he’d no expressions left to register. ‘For an eminent judge you do keep odd company, LeWinter.’

  It was a measure of LeWinter’s mental distress that comprehension came so slowly. He said in a dull voice: ‘You were the man who was here last night?’

  ‘Yes.’ Ryder nodded to Jeff. ‘And this is Perkins. Remember Perkins? Patrolman Ryder. My son. Unless you’re blind and deaf you must know that your friend Morro holds two of our family captive. One of them, my daughter – my son’s sister – has been wounded. We feel kindly disposed to you. Well, LeWinter, apart from being as corrupt as all hell, a lecherous old goat, a traitor and accessory to murder, you’re also a patsy, a sucker, a fall-guy, a scape-goat – call it what you will. You were conned, LeWinter, just as you thought you were conning Donahure and Miss Ivanov and Hartman. Used as a red herring to set up a non-existent Russian connection.