Read Online Ransom by Jon Cleary - Free Book Online

who made the call said they would call back at three o’clock to see if we agreed to their demands.”
    “You are groping then,” said Malone, and looked back at Michael Forte. “What are their demands, sir?”
    “They don’t want money, Inspector - I wish it were as simple as that.” Forte had got up and come round his desk to meet Malone; since then he had been walking restlessly about the room. Now he stopped by the seated, unmoving figure of his father; Malone had a sudden clear impression of the contrast between the two of them: patience somehow had begat impatience. “We have five anarchists held in The Tombs, our detention jail, on conspiring to set off a bomb -

    actually, it went off two months ago and killed two policemen - “
    “I know about them. Captain Jefferson told me this morning. What have they got to do with this?”
    “They are the ransom fee - their release and a plane to take them to Cuba. The deadline is noon tomorrow.”
    Malone felt the sick weakness come back on him. He looked at Jefferson, the only face in the room familiar enough for him to read, and saw the sudden pessimism in the dark weary eyes. Puzzled, but not sure why, he looked round the other faces, then back at Michael Forte.
    “Go on, sir.”
    Forte looked at the Australian shrewdly, for the first time really appreciating that this man had as much at stake in the kidnapping as himself. “What do you mean, Inspector?”
    “You hadn’t finished. You’ve implied that you’re not prepared to agree to the kidnappers’ demands.”
    “The Mayor didn’t say that!” snapped Hungerford, snatching his cigarette holder from his mouth.
    “I know he didn’t. But I’m a policeman, like you, Commissioner - I don’t have to have things spelled out for me. I don’t care a bugger about your anarchists - all I want is to get my wife back!”
    “If you are a policeman, you’ll realize the consequences.” Then Hungerford stopped and looked towards the door as there was a knock and a small dark-haired man looked in.
    “Joe Burgmann is here, Mr Mayor.”
    “Bring him in, Manny.” Michael Forte was still standing by his father; he suddenly put a hand on the old man’s shoulder and squeezed it; but Sam Forte’s expression did not change. Michael then went back behind his desk as the small dark-haired man, dapper as a head-waiter, brought in a burly man with thinning grey hair and hard bright eyes. They were introduced to Malone as Manny Pearl and Joe Burgmann.
    Burgmann looked Malone over cursorily, decided he was no voter, and turned back to Michael Forte. “Manny’s put

    me in the picture, Mr Mayor. Jesus, I can’t say how sorry I am - ” Malone caught the swift glance from Michael Forte, but there was no nicker of expression otherwise on the Mayor’s face. “It’s a real dilemma, a real dilemma. Anyone come up with any suggestions?”
    “None so far, Joe.”
    “I have,” said Malone. “I’ve suggested you give in to them. My wife - and yours too, Mr Mayor - are more valuable than a bunch of anarchists, no matter what they’ve done.”
    Burgmann had not turned round, just looked over his shoulder at Malone as if not interested in any comment from that ward: Malone was to learn in a moment who the burly man was and how he thought. “That’s easy for you to say - “
    “Nothing is easy for me to say,” snapped Malone, “not when my wife’s life is in danger.”
    “Okay, Joe - ” Michael Forte motioned to Burgmann, then looked at Malone. “Mr Burgmann is my campaign manager - you know we have an election coming up tomorrow. I’ve always been a strong proponent - perhaps too strong - of law and order, but in tomorrow’s election my principal opponent has chosen to make an issue of it. If I agree to the ransom demand - as you say, Inspector, you’re a cop, you don’t have to have things spelled out for you.”
    “Maybe I do,” Malone said slowly. He knew now why he had sensed the atmosphere of politics as