Mambo by Campbell Armstrong Read Free Book Online Page A

yes. I was coming to the two terrorists killed in the assault.”
    Pagan felt his interest quicken. “Is there anything new?”
    â€œWe haven’t been able to identify one of the men. The other, however, was an Australian citizen by the name of Ralph Masters.”
    â€œIt doesn’t ring any bells,” Pagan said.
    Burr sat back in his chair. “Born Adelaide 1940. Served in the Australian Army in 1960. Nothing for a long time. Then he turns up again in Biafra, nowadays Nigeria, in 1967. He was in the Congo in 1968. After that, he makes an appearance in Nicaragua in the mid-1970s.”
    â€œThe mercenary circuit.”
    â€œIndeed.”
    â€œIs there anything more recent on him?”
    Burr shook his head. “So far as we know, he’d been sitting quietly in Sydney. He installed telephones for a living.”
    â€œThat must have bored him senseless. Some people can’t settle after they’ve tasted war. Is there a record of him entering this country?”
    Burr shook his head. “We don’t know when he came in, nor how he got here. We don’t know who employed him.”
    â€œThe same people who employed Gunther Ruhr. Who else?” Pagan plucked a purple grape from the bunch Burr had brought. He popped it in his mouth and bit into the soft skin.
    â€œWhoever they are.” The Commissioner was morosely silent. Pagan had never seen him quite so dejected. He felt an enormous sympathy for Burr, who took the death of the policemen hard. Recent events had obviously been a heartbreak for him, visiting the widows, the fatherless kids, mouthing platitudes that amounted to nothing in the end. The Commissioner, a candid man who had no glib political skills, was not above genuine tears.
    â€œI keep thinking about how our security was breached, Frank. I come back time and again to that. That aspect of the whole thing depresses me. It’s not only the dead officers, although God knows that would be monstrous enough in itself.”
    â€œToo many people knew the route,” Pagan said. “And somebody blabbered.”
    â€œThe itinerary was decided at the highest level. The Home Office was involved. It was decided by all parties that instead of an ostentatious escort we would transport Ruhr quietly by a highly secret route. An awful mistake, as it turned out.”
    A secret was hard to keep in a world of committees, Pagan thought.
    Burr made circles on the tiled floor with the tip of his cane. “I seem to remember you were the only one who raised the subject of air cover, Frank. I wish the rest of us had paid more attention.”
    Pagan shrugged. None of the Commissioner’s wishes could alter the past. Both men were quiet for a long time before Burr went on, “I’d like to think that if somebody gabbed out of turn then it was from sheer carelessness rather than outright treachery. I don’t like the idea of a mole.”
    â€œBut it’s a distinct possibility,” Pagan said.
    Burr got up from the chair and walked to the window. He was a big man, wide-shouldered and heavy around the centre. He looked out into the sunlight and blinked. “Ten people knew the route, including ourselves.”
    â€œI don’t think you can stop at ten, Commissioner. If you include secretaries and assistants, who have an odd knack of getting wind of everything, the number’s probably closer to thirty, thirty-five. And out of that lot somebody – by accident or design – had a connection with Ruhr’s friends.”
    Pagan paused. His mouth was very dry. He sipped some water before going on. “The trouble is, it’s difficult to run a really thorough investigation of some thirty individuals, especially if it has to be done quickly. And since Ruhr’s obviously up to something in this country – otherwise the big rescue makes no sense – time’s a factor. He’s not over here to sit around twiddling his thumbs