Windfall ms-2

by Desmond Bagley

  He walked slowly into the room. The polished floor was slick and slippery. He went to the door on the right and motioned to Curtis and Hardin who stationed themselves on either side of it. Gently he opened the door and peered inside. Again, this room was empty so he went in. It was an office complete with all the usual equipment one might expect; a desk and swivel chair, a telephone, a reading lamp, a photocopier on a side desk. Total normality.

  There were maps on the wall which were covered with a spiderweb of red lines. He inspected one and could make nothing of the cryptic notations. There were also maps on a large side table which had shallow drawers built into it. Again he could make nothing of those on a cursory inspection.

  He left and, on an inquiring look from Hardin, shook his head and pointed to the other door. This, again, was unlocked and again the room was empty. It was a big room with no windows and along one wall, running the whole length, were banks of electronic equipment – control consoles and monitor screens gleaming clinically under the lights of overhead fluorescent tubes. It reminded Stafford of Houston space centre in miniature. He looked about him and saw no other door.

  'This is crazy,' said Hardin behind him. 'Where did the guy go?'

  Stafford withdrew into the Common Room and said to Hunt, 'Are you sure a man came in here?'

  'Of course. You saw the car outside.'

  'Three rooms,' said Stafford, 'and one door. There's no back door and no man.' He went to the window and looked out, his shoulder brushing aside curtains. As he turned away his attention was caught by something and he stiffened. 'You know,' he said. 'This place is built like a fortress. A blast wall at the front door, and look here…' He pulled aside the curtain. 'Steel shutters to cover the windows.'

  'Ready for a siege,' commented Hardin.

  'Certainly not innocent.' Stafford looked at Hunt. 'You know more about this scientific stuff than any of us. Take a look round and see if there's anything odd, anything out of place that shouldn't be here. Anything at all.'

  Hunt shrugged. 'I don't know much about the electronic stuff but I'll take a look.'

  He went into the back room and Stafford returned to the office where he opened drawers and rummaged about, looking for he didn't know what. Hardin checked the Gammon Room and Curtis stood guard by the front door. Ten minutes later they assembled in the Common Room. 'Nothing in here,' said Hardin.

  'All the electronic stuff looks standard to me,' said Hunt. 'But it would take an expert to be sure. I found nothing else out of the ordinary.'

  'Same with the office,' said Stafford in a dissatisfied voice. 'But I might have missed something. Take a look at those maps, Alan.'

  Hunt went into the office and Hardin said, 'We might have made a big mistake, Max.'

  'I'd have sworn on a stack of Bibles six feet high that what we're looking for is in here,' said Stafford savagely.

  'So what do we do if it's kosher?' asked Hardin. 'Apologize?'

  'It can't be. Not with that damned blast wall and the shutters.'

  Hunt came back. 'Standard maps of Kenya,' he reported. 'I'd say the lines are animal movements as recorded by the electronic thingummy on the roof. I told you Brice had shown me papers in a journal. The same stuff.' He saw a strange look on Stafford's face. 'What's the matter?'

  Stafford was looking at the door leading into the back room. It was open and a man stood there. Stafford plunged forward and the man slammed the door in his face and it took him a moment to open it as his feet slipped from under him. He yanked it open and then lost his footing completely and fell on his back just as there was the sharp report of a shot.

  He rolled over and looked around. The room was empty.

  He got up slowly and took Nair's pistol from his pocket. He turned carefully looking at every part of the room and saw nothing. 'It's all right, you can come in.' He picked up one foot and felt the sole of his shoe. 'Damned seeds!' he said, and kicked off the shoes.

  Hardin appeared at the door. 'Where did the guy go?'

  Stafford pointed with the gun. 'He was standing there when I fell.'

  'That prat fall maybe saved your life,' observed Hardin. 'That goddamn bullet nearly hit me.' He fingered a tear in the side of his shirt and looked around warily. 'What's the trick?'

  'I caught sight of something,' said Stafford. 'Just before I fell. Something big and square.'

  'What was it?'

  'I don't know. It doesn't seem to be there now.' Stafford studied the floor which was covered with a plastic composition in a checkerboard pattern. Set into it at his feet was a metal plate about three inches square. He bent down and found he could prise it upwards and that it moved on a spring-loaded hinge. Beneath the plate was a three-pin socket for an electric plug.

  Hardin said, 'Most of this electronic equipment is mounted on castors. That's why they need floor plugs.'

  'Yes,' said Stafford absently. He walked over to where he had last seen the man and found another metal plate. He bent down and lifted it. 'Bingo!' he said softly because it opened to reveal not an electric socket but a metal ring. 'There's a bloody cellar – this is a trap door.'

  He ran his fingers along a hairline crack and found the hinge. The trap door was square and it must have been what he saw when it was standing open. 'Take cover, Ben, and warn the others. He might pop off again.' He pulled open the metal flap, put his finger through the ring, and lifted. The door opened easily and he had lifted it about nine inches when there was another shot and a bullet ricochetted from the wall.

  Stafford let the door drop and stood on it. Hardin stepped forward from where he had been pressed against the wall. 'Looks like a Mexican stand-off. We can't get down and he can't get up. But if he has a telephone down there he'll be calling for reinforcements.'

  Stafford had not thought of that. 'Sergeant!' he shouted. 'If you find any telephone wires cut them, and keep a watch out there.' Hardin was right, he thought. Unless there was another way out of the cellar which he thought unlikely. The entrance to the cellar on which he stood was cleverly disguised; another entrance would double the chances of the cellar being discovered.

  He snapped his fingers suddenly. 'Got it! I know how we can winkle him out. Go with Hunt and bring his balloon burner and a couple of butane bottles. We've got a flame thrower of sorts.'

  'Jesus!' said Hardin. 'That's nasty.'

  'We'll tickle him up, just enough to put the fear of God into him. He'll come out.'

  'Okay.' Hardin turned to go, but stopped at the door and looked back. 'I wouldn't stand there,' he advised. 'If he shoots through the door you're likely to lose the family jewels.'

  Stafford hastily stood aside and, while waiting for Hardin to come back, he wheeled a console across so that two of its castored legs stood on the trap door and held it down. He then walked to the door and said to Curtis, 'Any signs of activity out there?'

  'Nothing here, sir; except that Mr Hardin and Mr Hunt are coming back.' Curtis turned away from the window. 'I'll check the other side.' He crossed the room and walked into the office.

  Hardin came in carrying the burner and Hunt followed, staggering under the weight of a butane cylinder. They went into the back room and Hunt put down the cylinder. Stafford said, 'Can you rig this thing?'

  'Yes.' Hunt hesitated. 'But I don't know that I want to.'

  'Look!' said Stafford, on the verge of losing his temper. He stabbed his finger down at the trap door. 'That man has been shooting at us. He shot on sight – didn't even stop to say "Hello!". He could have killed any one of us, and Christ knows what he's doing now. I want him out. Now get that damned contraption rigged."

  'Take it easy, Max,' Hardin said quietly. He looked at Hunt. 'Can I help you?'

  'No; I'll do it.' Hunt bent to the burner and Hardin watched him with interest.

  'Max was telling me about this,' he said. 'When we were idling on the island. He says it's pretty powerful. Is that so?'

  Hunt was connecting tubes. 'It's rated at ten million Btu, but it probably delivers abo
ut three-quarters of that.'

  'I've never figured out what a British Thermal Unit is,' said Hardin. 'I must have been at a ball game when that came up in class.'

  'The amount of heat to raise the temperature of a pound of water by one degree Fahrenheit.'

  'And you've got ten million of them in that thing!' Hardin looked across at Stafford. 'Did you say you'd tickle him?'

  Stafford smiled slightly. He had cooled down and he knew what Hardin was doing; as an army officer he had done it himself when men were in a jumpy condition. Hardin was soothing Hunt as a man might soothe a fractious horse. Stafford said lightly, 'Quite a cigarette lighter, isn't it?'

  The burner consisted of two coils of stainless steel tubing mounted in a rectangular frame so that they could swivel. Hardin said, 'Looks as though you have two burners there. Why?'

  'Belt and braces principle,' said Hunt. 'If I'm in the sky. and a burner fails I want to have another quickly.' He turned a cock on the butane cylinder then lit a small pilot burner. The pilot flame burned blue. 'I'm ready."

  Stafford said, 'I'll operate it.'

  'No,' said Hunt. I'll do it. I know exactly how it works."

  'Better think of what's going to happen when you lift that trap,' said Hardin. 'The first thing that'll come through is a bullet."

  'Anyone got a knife?' asked Stafford. Hunt produced a pocket knife and Stafford cut a length of electric wiring from a table lamp. He lifted the small metal flap on the trap door and knotted the end of the wire around the ring beneath. He said, 'I'll pull up the trap from here, standing behind it. The trap door itself will protect my legs from the flame. Let the door be open at least a foot before you let go, Alan; and you'd better lie flat on the floor behind the burner. Bullets travel in straight lines so you should be safe. Ben, move that stuff off the trap and then get clear."

  Two minutes later he looked at Hunt. 'Ready?' Hunt nodded. 'Give it a good long burst," said Stafford, and hauled the trap door open.

  There was a shocking series of chattering explosions as soon as the trap started to move and a stream of bullets came through the opening to strike the ceiling and ricochet around the room. Lights went out as some of the overhead fluorescents were smashed and a monitor screen imploded when hit. Stafford flinched and was about to drop the trap door when Hunt cut loose with the burner. The room was lit by an acid-blue light as a six-foot long flame stabbed down into the basement. The shooting stopped and all that could be heard was the pulsating roar of the burner which seemed to go on interminably.

  At last Hunt switched off and the room was quiet. Stafford dropped the trap door back into place and looked around. 'Everyone all right?"

  Hardin was clutching his upper right arm. 'I caught one, Max. What the hell was that? A machine-gun?"

  'I don't think so," said Stafford. 'My guess is that it was a 3"

  Kalashnikov on automatic fire.' He looked at the blood on Hardin's hand. 'A ricochet, Ben. If you'd stopped a direct hit at that range it would have torn your arm off. This is beginning to get bloody dangerous.' He looked down at Hunt. 'Are you all right?'

  Hunt was pale but nodded. He said, 'The shooting stopped.'

  'But was it because of us?' asked Stafford. 'Or did his magazine run out?' He looked up and saw Curtis standing in the doorway. 'Get back on watch, Sergeant. That doorway is in the line of fire.'

  'Yes, sir,' said Curtis smartly, and disappeared from view.

  'Are you ready to give it another go?' asked Stafford, and Hunt nodded. 'All right. I'll open the door. If there's no shooting give him a short burst and stop. If he shoots let him have it – a good long blast.' He turned his head. 'Ben, get the hell out of here.'

  Hardin jerked his head. 'I'll be behind that bench.'

  'Take this then and stay ready.' He gave Hardin the pistol and took up the slack on the wire, nodded to Hunt, and hauled the trap door open. There was silence for a moment and then again the flame stabbed out with a stomach-tightening rumble. Hunt let it play for only a few seconds then turned it off.

  Again there was silence.

  Stafford shouted, 'Hey! You down there! Come up with your hands empty. You have fifteen seconds or you'll fry.'

  There came a distant call. 'I'm coming. Don't burn me.'

  Footsteps were heard climbing the stairs and a man appeared. His hair had been burned away and blisters were beginning to show on his face and the backs of his hands. Stafford said curtly, 'Out!' and he climbed up into the room. Hardin moved forward holding the pistol.

  'Anyone else down there?' demanded Stafford. The man shook his head dumbly, and Stafford said, 'We'll make sure. Give it another long squirt, Alan.'

  'Nee, man, nee' the man shouted. 'Jy kan nie…' His words were lost as Hunt turned on the burner in a long sustained blast. He turned to run but was stopped at the door by Hardin with the pistol. The burner stopped and then things began to happen so fast that Stafford was bemused.

  Hardin dropped as though pole-axed as someone hit him from behind. He dropped the pistol which went off as it hit the ground and the bullet screamed past Stafford so close that he ducked involuntarily. When he looked up suddenly Hendriks and Brice were in the room and Hendriks held the pistol with the silencer. 'Everyone freeze,' he said. 'No one move.'

  Brice looked at Hunt lying on the floor, his hand still on the blast valve. 'What in hell is happening?' He looked at the scorched man. 'What happened to you, van Heerden?'

  'I was down there and they turned that… that damned flame thrower on me.' he said. 'Things are burning…'

  Hendriks gave a choked cry. He thrust his pistol into Brice's hand and ran forward to the trap door, kicking the burner aside as he went. He clattered down the stairs and disappeared from sight. Hardly had he gone when a hand clamped on Brice's wrist from behind and twisted it sharply. Brice screamed as his arm broke and Curtis appeared from behind him to catch the pistol as it dropped.

  Stafford expelled a deep breath. 'Get up, Alan,' he said. Hunt got to his feet and turned around. 'See to Ben.' He was about to step forward when there was a muffled thump and the building shook. A dense column of smoke tinged with flame at its centre shot out of the basement through the open trap, and van Heerden screamed, 'It's going to blow up!'

  Something fell and hit Stafford on the head and he knew nothing more.

  Chapter 32

  'These grapes are not bad,' said Stafford appreciatively. 'Thanks.'

  'It is customary to bring grapes to hospital,' said Chip and hitched his chair closer to the bed. 'It is also customary for those who bring them to eat them.' He took a couple of grapes from the bunch and popped them into his mouth. 'When are they letting you out?'

  'Another week.' Stafford touched his bandaged head. 'There's nothing broken, but I get double vision when I'm tired. The doctor says it's concussion and all I need is bed rest. How's Nair?'

  'He's all right. They took the bullet out of his leg and he's on the mend. He's in a room down the corridor.'

  'I'll pop in and see him.'

  Chip smiled slightly. 'The population of this hospital has gone up since you began operations. Hardin had concussion like you; Hunt is having a skin graft on his legs – he got scorched.'

  'The Sergeant?'

  'Nothing wrong with him. He's a real tough one. He'll be coming in to see you soon.'

  'All right,' said Stafford. 'What happened?'

  'Curtis got Hardin out then went back to help Hunt get you out. Brice got himself out. Hendriks and Miller were both killed.'

  'Miller?' said Stafford interrogatively.

  'The man in the basement.'

  'Oh! Brice called him van Heerden.'

  'Did he?' Chip was interested in that and made a note of it. 'His passport was in the name of Miller. A British passport.'

  'He spoke a few words of Afrikaans when he was under stress. What did you find in the cellar?'

  Chip looked at him oddly. 'Don't you know?'

  'I don't know a bloody thing,' said Stafford. 'You're my
first visitor.'

  'When Nair rang to tell me what you were doing I rounded up some men and commandeered an army helicopter from Eastleigh because I wanted to get to you fast. I thought you were tackling something bigger than you could handle. We were putting the helicopter down next to the building with the dish antenna when it blew up. The helicopter nearly crashed.'

  'Blew up!' said Stafford, startled. 'In God's name, what was down there?'

  'We've had our forensic people looking at the bits and pieces that are left. Apparently there were a lot of explosives, commercial gelignite for the most part. They say that didn't blow up – it needs a detonator – but it burned hot and that set off the rest of it. They had a small armoury down there, rifles and ammunition, hand grenades and so on.'

  'That wouldn't be enough to blow up a building.'

  'That's right,' agreed Chip. 'The damage was really done when the fire got to three Russian SAM-7 rockets. We think there were three but it's difficult to tell now.'

  'Rockets!' Stafford rubbed his jaw. He was thinking of that hot, blue flame driving heat into the basement. Talk about playing with fire!

  'Most of the stuff down there was Russian,' said Chip. 'Probably captured equipment from Angola. The South Africans smuggled it in, probably through Mombasa. We're going into that now.'

  'Indirection,' said Stafford. 'What do you think they were going to use it for?'

  Chip shrugged. 'There's a lot of talk going on at the top. The general opinion is that the stuff was going to be used to arm various groups in the general interest of stirring up trouble. Those being used would even think they were being paid by the Russians. It could have caused a lot of bad blood.'

  'What does Brice say?'

  'Brice is saying nothing; he's keeping his mouth shut. Patterson isn't saying much, either. But Luke Maiyani will talk as soon as his jaw is unwired,' said Chip grimly., 'You're going to have visitors, Max. They'll tell you to keep your mouth shut, too. All this never happened. Understand?'