Free The Golden Gate by Alistair MacLean Page A

after an hour and ten minutes, are we still stranded in the middle of the Golden Gate Bridge?'

'What!'

'Look around you.'

She looked around her, slowly acknowledging the reality of the surroundings. Suddenly she stiffened and caught hold of (be hand that was still around her shoulders.

Those two men across the aisle.' Her voice had dropped to a whisper. They're wearing handcuffs,'

Revson bent forward and looked. The two large and still sleeping men were undoubtedly wearing handcuffs.

'Why?' Again the whisper.

'How should I know why? I've just come to myself.'

'Well, then, why aren't we wearing them?'

'How should-we are among the blessed.' He looked over his shoulder and saw the Presidential coach parked just behind them. 'Excuse me. As a good journalist I think the odd probing question is in order.' 'I'm coming with you.'

'Sure.' She stepped into the aisle and he followed. Instead of moving directly after her he lifted the coat lapel of the nearest of the sleeping men. An empty shoulder holster was much in evidence. He followed the girl. At the front door he noticed that the driver, still sound asleep, was propped against the right-band front door, quite some distance from his seat: obviously, he hadn't made it there under !his own steam.

He joined me girl on the bridge. A very large and extremely ugly policeman - Yonnie 'bad the kind of face that would have given any force a bad name-was pointing a machine-pistol at them. That a policeman should be pointing a gun at them was peculiar enough. That a policeman should be armed with a machine-gun was even more peculiar. Most peculiar of all, however, was the spectacle of six scowling and clearly unhappy policemen standing in a line, each attached to the other by a pair of handcuffs.

April Wednesday stared at them in astonishment, then looked at Revson. He said: 'I agree. This would seem to call for some kind of explanation.'

'You'll have it.' Branson, walking easily, talking easily, had just appeared round the front of the Presidential bus. 'What's your name?'

'Revson.'

'Sorry about this. You too, young lady."

'Helicopters!' she said.

'Yes, they are, aren't they? Explanations will be forthcoming but not severally. When your friends 'have all come to then we'll have a little talk.' Branson walked away towards the rear coach. His step was almost jaunty and he did not seem too displeased with life. He looked at the bank of cloud moving in slowly, very slowly, from the west. If it troubled him he did not show it He reached the crashed police car and spoke to the man standing guard. 'Have our four friends recovered, Chrysler?"

'Yes, sir. I wouldn't say they're in very 'high spirits, though.' Chrysler was a lean, dark, intelligent-looking young man and it only required the addition of a brief case to see him as an up-and-coming attorney. He was indeed, as Branson had told Boyann, a telecommunications expert. He was also very good with combination locks and frightening people with guns.

'I dare say. Let them stay in the car. Easier than getting them out and handcuffing them. When the four FBI men-at least from the fact that they were armed T assume they were FBI men - in the lead coach have come to. take a couple of the boys and escort them, along with the six cops up front, t&e four here and the two inside our coach half-way towards the south tower. Sixteen in all and any one a potential menace if we keep them here. Half-way there take off whatever handcuffs there are-very useful things, handcuffs, you never know when we may need them again - then let them walk off the bridge under their own steam. Okay?'

'It's done." He pointed to the west, to the slowly advancing bank of cloud. 'Do you like that, Mr Branson?'

'Could have done without it. We'll cope when it comes. Looks as if it may well pass under the bridge anyway.'

'Mr Branson.' It was Jensen, beckoning urgently from toe front door of the rear coach. 'Mount Tamalpais. Urgent.'

Branson ran into the coach,