Gelignite (12 page)

Mr Hwang looked at him. He glanced around the sorting room, at his part of the world, his life's responsibility. He looked doubtful. He nodded. He glanced at something out of Spencer's view behind the sorting table and nodded again. He went suddenly calm. He nodded. He said to Spencer, 'It's all right now.' He smiled. He said, 'I've seen this sort of thing on American television programmes.' He nodded yet again.

Spencer glanced at him. He nodded too. It was easy to calm people down if you stayed calm yourself. Spencer said, 'I'm just going into your office to telephone.' He waited for Mr Hwang's reaction.

Mr Hwang smiled. There was something a little odd about it. Spencer went towards the office and went in. He shut the door behind him and began dialling the numbers. He thought, "He calmed down very quickly." He shrugged.

An efficient military voice at the other end of the line said, '51 Infantry Brigade, Duty NCO speaking.'

Spencer said, 'Engineers, please, BD Section.'

'Suh!' There was a series of clickings. Behind him, the door opened and Mr Hwang came in looking pleased with himself.

Another military voice said, 'BD.'

Mr Hwang said, 'Everything's all right now.' He said,' 'I put it in a bucket of water.'

The military voice said again, 'BD—'

Spencer said, 'What?'

'I put it in a bucket of water.' Mr Hwang said, 'Everybody knows that fixes bombs.' The fact that paper envelopes are soluble in water and that the trigger mechanism of letter bombs is only held back by that same paper envelope was neither here nor there. It hadn't occurred to him. Mr Hwang said happily, 'So you can just take it away the way they do on television.'

The voice said irritably, 'Bomb Disposal—who the hell is this?'

Spencer looked at Mr Hwang. Mr Hwang smiled. Spencer said, 'Oh, my God—'

Mr Hwang said—

Spencer slammed the phone down and ran for the bucket of water.

*

O'Yee thought, "To hell with it!" He took off his glasses and put his coat on. He thought, "Screw it, I'll ring the rest of them in the morning." He looked at his watch. It was 8.15 pm. He thought, "It's too late now anyway." He put his glasses carefully into their leather case, slipped the case into his inside coat pocket, and went home.

*

The envelope came out of the water dripping wet. The paper was going. A piece of a corner of the envelope came away in his fingers. He thought, "What do I do?" There was a spring loaded trigger in it. It had to be held down. He put the envelope on the steel table and slapped the palm of his hand down on top of it. He felt the dissolving paper stick to his hand. He pressed down on it There was a faint click. He thought, "It's armed itself!" He pressed hard on the envelope. Something held against the pressure and there were no more noises. He yelled to Mr Choy, 'Get me a flashlight!' He raised his hand a fraction and the spring pressure relaxed. The seam of the envelope seemed to be going: he felt it raise up with his hand. He roared at Choy, 'A flashlight!' There was another faint click. He thought, "Calm. Nothing's happened yet." He thought, "Calm. Do it in some sort of order." He thought, "See what's inside and then—" He heard a clattering sound. Someone was running. He saw Choy and Hwang running for the stairs. He thought, "A flashlight—" There was one on the next table for checking the pigeonholes. They were going to get it—he thought, "They've gone." He tried to reach the flashlight with his free hand, but it was too far away. There was a metallic straining noise from inside the envelope. He pressed harder on the paper. The noise stopped.

Spencer swallowed. He thought, "A letter bomb contains a charge of explosive, a detonator, and some sort of triggering device." So far so good. That had been in the Home Office pamphlet. He thought, "The effective range of a—" Better to think of something constructive. "The arming wire usually protrudes from the envelope casing and is pulled out to set the trigger." He could feel something sharp under his hand. It was the end of the wire. The pamphlet had said, "X-ray photographs of the device in question are first taken so that a thorough study of the mechanism can be—" That was no bloody use. He reached in his pocket with his free hand and took out his pocket knife, got it open with his fingernail and slid it under his hand. He felt the point of the blade touch the wet paper. He got down on his knees and tried to look under the palm of his hand to see where the blade of the knife lay. It was too dark. He raised the palm of his hand a fraction. There was the creaking sound again. It was something straining against a tiny spring, like a clothes peg held back under pressure. He slid the point of the knife and contacted something metallic. He had a picture of Frank in his mind. He thought, "I'm going to be killed." He moved the point of the knife along through the dissolving paper under his palm and felt something soft. He pressed in with the knife. The knife penetrated as if into clay. That was the gelignite. There was a faint smell. Then the smell was gone.

Spencer thought, "Between the charge and the spring there has to be a wire." He thought, "Not the arming wire: that only sets the trigger." He thought, "There has to be some sort of wire between the charge and the trigger." He thought, "There must be two wires: one from the trigger to the detonator and one to arm the thing." He thought, "If I set the detonator off, the charge will still go." He thought, "Maybe the detonator's built into the charge." He thought, "Of course, it must be: it has to be inserted." He slid the point of the knife back away from the charge and touched something soft. Maybe it was the wire. He pressed it ever so slightly. Something gave. He thought, "If I break the arming wire, it'll go off." He tried to get a picture of the envelope under his hand. He thought, "Is it logical that the charge should be at one end and the trigger at the other?" He thought, "It isn't. It'd be together." He remembered that the pamphlet had said that squares of cardboard were often packed into letter bombs to confuse their outline. He thought, "Maybe I'm just touching the cardboard." He moved the knife point back to the explosive and pushed on the point. The knife went in a few centimetres and then stopped. He thought, "The detonator has to be in the body of the charge." He moved the knife out of the charge and back, then in again. The knife went into the clay substance again. He slid it out. He felt another section of the envelope dissolve under the heat from his hand. He pushed the point of the knife in again. It pressed against something hard. He pushed on it. The hard thing moved. He withdrew the knife and moved it along another centimetre. There was no resistance at all. There was some sort of empty gap. He put the knife back in against the metallic object and twisted it around. Something came loose. He withdrew the knife and pushed it in again and twisted it. Whatever it was was definitely loose. It came totally loose. He pressed the knife against it. There was a slight resistance. He moved the knife a few millimetres and sawed it backwards and forwards. Nothing happened. He sawed at it again and again.

There was a faint click. The detonator, separated from its wire, came out from under his hand.

Spencer closed his eyes and lifted his hand up from the envelope.

There was a CLICK! as the trigger mechanism flew forwards and then, as it tore through the soggy paper, the seam of the envelope split.

Spencer opened his eyes. Laid out on the steel-topped table in front of him like a dissected frog on a biology table, was a letter bomb.

The detonator was still in his other hand. He put it on the table. He looked at the second letter—the one addressed to the Police—and put it and his pocket knife in his inside coat pocket. He sat down on the floor with the back of his head resting against the edge of the steel-topped table and thought he would wait for someone to come.

He tried, but he couldn't get the picture of Frank back in his mind.

He couldn't even remember what she looked like.

Hong Kong is an island of some 30 square miles under British administration in the South China Sea facing the Kowloon and New Territories areas of continental China. Kowloon and the New Territories are also British administered, surrounded by the Communist Chinese province of Kwangtung. The climate is generally sub-tropical, with hot, humid summers and heavy rainfall. The population of Hong Kong and the surrounding areas at any one time, including tourists and visitors, is in excess of four millions. The New Territories are leased from the Chinese. The lease is due to expire in 1997, but the British nevertheless maintain a military presence along the border, although, should the Communists, who supply almost all the Colony's drinking water, ever desire to terminate the lease early, they need only turn off the taps. Hong Bay is on the southern side of the island and the tourist brochures advise you not to go there after dark.

*

It was 5 am, still dark; there was a light morning rain falling. A covey of rickshaw men toiled by the Yellowthread Street Police Station and went away down Wyang Street towards the centre of Hong Kong and the morning's influx of tourists. A stream of taxis went by in a line of yellow and black and followed the rickshaw men, caught up to them on the corner and passed them going towards the flyover and the cross-harbour tunnel. A solitary pneumatic hammer working on a small emergency road repair somewhere in the west of the district fired off a burst of compressed air like a distant machine gun and then was silent, then fired another, then stopped. The Police Station, seen from the outside, looked still and deserted. It was an old Victorian building on two floors, and in the lightening morning, it looked like a slightly run-down Welsh chapel protecting its simple and unwavering Welsh morality intact behind frosted and barred windows. Cold-engined police cars, their POLICE signs dew glistening and unlit, stood about in the courtyard at the rear of the building. There was a chill in the air. Another stream of taxis went by with their lights and heaters on, their diesel engines making a cosy chugging sound and then the pneumatic hammer a long way off fired a short burst and was silent. There were lights on on the two floors of the Station, but the windows were either frosted or curtained and there appeared to be no movement behind them. A uniformed Chinese Constable went across the courtyard past the cars into a garage at the back and closed the door behind him. Someone taking a dog out for an early morning walk stopped by the open iron gates and looked in. There was nothing to see. He walked on. It was 5 am.

*

O'Yee looked into the Detectives' Room on his way to the interview room and glanced at the unopened letter on Feiffer's desk. He said happily, 'It's probably another bomb.' He thought he would go through the unclassified listings. He asked, 'Who the hell took the telephone directory from the interview room?' He saw the missing tome on Spencer's desk and said, 'Ah-ha. It was you.' He said, 'Ah-ha' and took it back. He asked Feiffer on the way out, 'Anything new on the mad bomber?'

'No. How about your job?' Feiffer asked irritably, 'Just what the hell is your job anyway?'

'Confidential.' O'Yee said to Spencer, 'I heard about what you did last night.' He said again to Feiffer, 'Confidential Very secret.'

Auden looked at him.

O'Yee said, 'Very hush hush.' He settled the stolen directory more firmly under his arm.

Auden said, 'Special Branch!'

O'Yee looked around. 'Who is?'

Auden said, 'You are! You're doing something special for Special Branch!'

Feiffer shook his head. He began opening his letter.

O'Yee said, 'Am I?'

'Yes! You're doing something for Special Branch! It's to do with your promotion!' He said, 'Isn't it?'

O'Yee looked at Feiffer. Feiffer was trying to find a loose edge on the flap of the envelope and start it with his thumbnail. He was being careful not to smudge the brown manilla paper with fingerprints. O'Yee said to Auden, 'No.'

Spencer said, 'Are you?'

'Am I what?'

Auden said testily, 'Doing a job for Special Branch.' He glanced at Feiffer for confirmation. Feiffer ignored him. He found an edge and flicked at it delicately with his nail

O'Yee said, 'No.'

'They always say that!'

'Who do?'

'Special Branch!'

O'Yee said, 'Oh.' He started to ask what people who weren't doing a job for Special Branch said when they weren't doing a job for Special Branch. He saw something on the seam of me letter. He shouted at Feiffer, 'For Chrissakes don't open it!'

There was a CLICK!

Auden said, 'What the hell—'

Spencer said, 'Oh my God—' He looked at Feiffer. Feiffer had the envelope in his hands. It had split open. It was a letter bomb. Spencer said, 'Oh my—'

There was a silence.

*

At the flyover that links Hong Bay to the cross harbour tunnel Constable Lee looked up to the pedestrian bridge where Constable Sun was and shrugged.

Constable Sun shrugged back. If there had been anyone on the bridge earlier throwing soft drink cans down onto the flyover then they certainly weren't around now.

Constable Lee glanced back at the flyover. The early morning traffic was building up. He thought he might catch a speeder. He waved to Constable Sun that he could hang on at the flyover for a few moments and got back into his police car.

On the pedestrian bridge, Constable Sun nodded. He thought he'd have one more look around and then go down to the flyover and take out his ire on a dangerous driver.

He began walking along the bridge, looking down at the traffic, listening to the steady roar of the traffic and the clicks his leather shoes made on the cement pavement above it.

*

Feiffer said, 'It was a dud.' He examined the remains of the envelope on his desk. It looked oddly incomplete. He said, There's no detonator or charge in it.' He indicated something that looked like a miniature steel clothes peg connected to wires and asked Spencer, 'What's this bit?'

'The trigger.' Spencer said, 'He's put the trigger device in but he hasn't wired it up to anything.' He said quietly to Feiffer, 'I had no idea that the second one was a—' He said, 'I thought it was just a letter.' He said, 'I'm sorry, Harry.' He said, 'I—I didn't know the bloody thing was a bloody bomb!' He seemed on the edge of tears. He said, 'I just didn't know it was a—' He said, 'Harry—'