'Fasten the boy too,’ said Innes.
When both were tied firmly Innes put the barrel of his
gun under Roker's nose. 'Now,’ he said softly, 'I want that
password.'
'You are mad,’ stammered Roker, but he was afraid.
The password!' Innes pushed the tip of the silencer so
that Roker's face was forced up and to the left.
'Get lost,’ said Roker.
'There's no time for heroics,’ said Innes to Reagan. The
brat is going to explode in fifteen minutes. Get the stuff
from the bathroom.'
Reagan returned with the implements that Innes had
prepared and Innes saw the fear in Roker's eyes. 'Now
then,’ said Innes, 'I've got acid for your eyes and needles for
your nails. What's it to be?'
'You're crazy!' spluttered Roker, shrinking as far back as
he could which was hardly any distance at all.
'Nails, I think,’ said Innes, removing one of the needles
from the wallet. 'Stick something in his mouth and hold
him steady!' he said to Reagan.
Reagan looked about him and saw Shelby's handkerchief
lying beside his body. He picked it up and forced it roughly
into Roker's mouth then he held Roker's hand firmly on the
arm of the chair while Innes inserted a needle under the nail
of the index finger and pushed.
Roker's eyes rolled in agony. His skin paled and sweat ran
down his forehead in a river.
'For Christ's sake, keep him conscious!' said Reagan.
'Don't tell me my job,’ replied Innes, pushing the needle
further under the nail.
Roker's head began to roll on his chest and Innes stopped.
The gag!' he said to Reagan. Take it out.'
Reagan removed the handkerchief.
‘
The password!' demanded Innes in a whisper.
'All right
...
all right . . . it's . . .
ARCHIMEDES.
.
but. . .'
Innes smiled and said, ‘That's all I wanted to know.' He
pulled out one of the long hatpins from the wallet and
searched for the right space between Roker's ribs. As Roker's eyes filled with horror at the realisation of what
Innes was about to do Innes pushed the pin through his
heart.
Innes checked his watch and looked at the child. ‘Ten
minutes to go. We've got time to phone from here.' He
picked up the room phone and dialled a series of numbers. This is Mr Innes, account number 6671081. I want to have
some money transferred from account number 4494552.'
That is a password transfer,’ said the voice. 'At the tone,
give the password,’. . .
BLEEP
'ARCHIMEDES.’
There was a long pause. 'I'm sorry,’ said the 'have a nice
day' voice. The voice- print is unacceptable to our computer.’
Innes felt the bottom drop out of his world. Paralysis
threatened his throat. 'What do you mean?' he croaked.
'I'm sure there's some simple mistake, sir, but the com
puter is saying that the voice authorised to give that pass
word
...
is not yours.’
'Sweet Jesus Christ,’ said Reagan, who'd been listening at
Innes's elbow. 'Now you've done it.’
Innes put down the phone as if in a dream and looked at the corpse of the man who had been authorised to give the password. 'A mistake, that's all,’ he murmured, thinking of
Kell. 'Just a simple mistake.’
'We'd better get out of here!' said Reagan, suddenly
realising that time had been passing. As they left the room
Reagan paused by the child and ruffled his hair. 'No hard
feelings, son, eh? No hard feelings.’
Innes followed Reagan out the door but seemed totally
preoccupied. ‘Time to think,’ he muttered
...
'I need time
to think.'
Avedissian, Kathleen and Jarvis, who had had to listen to
everything that had gone on in agonising impotence, sprang
into life as they heard the
IRA
men leave. They raced
along the hotel corridor and down the stairs to the room
vacated by Innes and burst through the door.
The child was sitting, in the centre of the room, his
arms secured to the back of a chair. He stared silently at
Avedissian who entered first.
'Three minutes!' said Jarvis who had been keeping
track of elapsed lime since the kidnapper had spelled out
the consequence of his failure to return. 'What can you
do?' The tone of his voice reflected the despair that he
felt.
Avedissian did not untie the boy for there was no lime.
He examined his neck on both sides and found the scar
where the device had been implanted. 'Get out of here!'
he snapped to Kathleen and Jarvis.
'But. . .' Jarvis started.
'Get out of here!' insisted Avedissian.
Both refused silently.
Avedissian saw the implements left lying by Innes and
picked up a scalpel. He looked at the boy with pain in his
eyes and said, 'I'm sorry. I'm going to have to do this.
There's no other way. I hope one day you will understand.'
Kathleen came forward and cradled the boy's head in
her arm so that his neck was exposed to Avedissian. The
look on Avedissian's face told her of the agony he felt at
not having any form of anaesthetic to offer the child. 'Do
it,' she whispered. 'It's his only chance.'
'Two minutes!' said Jarvis.
Avedissian cut into the child's neck and blood welled
up from the incision to flow down his chest and back. The child went rigid and started to shake in pain and
terror but made no sound. Avedissian continued to cut
through a haze of his own guilt and saw the implant come
briefly into view before being obscured by blood again.
'Give me these forceps will you?' he asked Jarvis who had gone pale. Avedissian had to point to what he wanted from the floor.
'He's passed out,' said Kathleen.
'Thank God,' said Jarvis.
'I've got it’ said Avedissian.
'With one minute to go,' said Jarvis. 'Give it to me!'
Avedissian handed him the device, still in the jaws of the
forceps, and Jarvis hurried over to the window. He stopped.
'Jesus!' he said, 'You can't open these windows. The air-
conditioning! '
‘
The bathroom!' said Avedissian. 'Put it in the bath and shut the bathroom door!'
Jarvis took up the suggestion and slammed the bathroom
door before throwing himself down on the floor to join the
others. There was silence.
'Maybe they decided not to do it?' said Kathleen as the
seconds ticked by.
Avedissian was busily trying to stem the flow of blood from
the child's neck at floor level. Kathleen was still holding on to him, murmuring reassurance despite the fact that the child was unconscious.
'I don't think this thing is going to blow,' said Jarvis as the
seconds became minutes. 'I'm going to take a look.'
'Be careful!' urged Kathleen.
'We can't just leave it there,' said Jarvis by way of ex
planation.
'How is he?' asked Kathleen, turning her attention back to
the boy.
'All right at the moment,' replied Avedissian. The blood loss
wasn't too bad but he may go into shock.'
Jarvis returned from the bathroom holding something in his
hand. He tossed it a few inches into the air and caught it
again. 'It's a button,' he said quietly. 'It's a silver button.
Nothing more.' He sank down into a chair as his legs threatened
to become too weak to support him.
Avedissian finished dressing the wound in the boy's
neck as best he could then noticed that his own hands were shaking. He got up unsteadily and went to the
bathroom to lean over the sink. His stomach turned over but he could not vomit. Instead his breathing became
spasmodic and irregular as he re-lived the past thirty
minutes. Kathleen came in and touched him gently on
the shoulder. 'It's all over,' she murmured. 'You did the
right thing.'
Jarvis opened the bottle of whiskey that Reagan had
used to effect entry to the room and poured out three
large measures. Avedissian gulped his own down and
took comfort from the fire in his throat. 'Did you know?' he croaked accusingly at Jarvis.
'Know what?' asked Jarvis.
‘
That the child was not who Bryant said he was?'
'What?' exclaimed Jarvis with genuine surprise. 'What
the hell do you mean?'
Avedissian looked at the boy and said, 'This boy is no
royal child, he's a deaf mute.'
Jarvis and Kathleen stared wide-eyed at Avedissian. 'I
don't understand,’ said Kathleen. 'Of course he's the
royal child. He's just lost his voice through shock. That's
what the kidnapper said.'
Jarvis nodded his agreement. 'Take a look,’ he said.
'See for yourself.'
'I've never met the boy or his family,’ said Avedissian.
'Have you?'
'No,’ admitted Jarvis. 'But I've seen photographs, TV reports, newsreels.'
'It's not enough,’ said Avedissian. 'Many young
children look the same when you know them super
ficially. You have to know them personally before par
ticular characteristics become memorable. I'm a
paediatrician, I know children. I know how they behave
and I am telling you that this child has not suffered a
temporary loss of speech. He has all the signs of being a deaf
mute.'
'Are you saying that the kidnappers switched the child?'
asked Kathleen.
Avedissian shook his head slowly and said, There are no
kidnappers. There never were. It was a con. Bryant set it
up.'
'But why?'
Twenty-five million dollars?' suggested Avedissian.
'And the
IRA?'
'Judging by what we heard, they must have known all along that it was a con. They played along for the money
too. You must be able to do a lot of damage when you're
given twenty-five million at the one time.’
'Especially if your name is Kell,’ said Kathleen bitterly.
'So we are the only clowns in the circus,' said Jarvis.
'And him,’ said Avedissian, looking at the child whom Kathleen was cuddling and keeping warm. 'Just look what
the bastards have done to him.'
'Well, neither of them got the money in the end,’ said
Jarvis looking down at Roker's body.’ They killed him too
soon.'
'What are we going to do?' asked Kathleen. 'We four
seem to be the expendable ones in this game.'
'We'll have to get out of here!' said Jarvis.
'NORAID
are
going to start wondering why Roker, Shelby and the boy haven't turned up at the airport. In fact they're probably on
their way here right now and, remember, they don't know
that the boy was a trick! They don't know that it was the
IRA
who killed their men! They're going to think that the
kidnappers tried some sort of double-cross and start hunting
for them and the boy!'