by Hugh Franks
He walked around the desk to her side. He said, ‘You haven’t changed at all.’
She said, ‘You’ve changed so much.’ Did he understand her? Probably not.
He put out his hand, which she refused to take. They were strangers. He left her side and went to the door, from where he bowed to her.
‘Eleanor, I’m truly sorry. They will not allow you to leave. The window is double-locked from the outside. I’m now going to double-lock the door.’ He turned his back on her, then faced her again. ‘I think you should know that your ex-Olympic patient died a few hours ago – from natural causes.’ He bowed again and went out.
Unable to believe what she had just heard, she prayed silently. Please God, let me never see him again. She heard the key turn in the lock. She got up and went quickly across to the window. Outside it had stopped snowing.
Inside the operation room at Mont Louis, the tension had lowered a degree. After frantic adjustments, a picture had appeared on the faulty screen. But for Mike, the tension increased as time passed. A uniform was found for him. When he put it on, he felt part of the team, he no longer stood out as an etranger. Yet the continuing note from Eleanor’s microchip was nerve-racking.
Added to the strain were his thoughts of Eleanor perhaps facing Chen. The Colonel confirmed that they knew exactly which room Eleanor had entered. Even that good news did little for Mike. Yet the Colonel’s example of calm was an inspiration for all of them.
There was the moment when the Frenchman took Mike by the arm and then led him across to a large panoramic window. ‘The window is soundproof,’ he told Mike. ‘In a minute you’ll see the ’copters land on that pad over there. You’ll see why we need soundproofing! I think it’s time we had them with us, ready for the off.’
The snow was falling in thin flakes and visibility was satisfactory. The Colonel pointed skywards. Four helicopters appeared over the large square, with the stealth of phantoms. They began to hover, stationary. Then almost before he realised what was happening, they descended, silently, like eagles swooping on their prey. Once on the landing pads, the blades continued revolving, still silent. There was so much movement, yet no sound. Was he dreaming? Mike remembered Patrick had told him that Eleanor might be facing ruthless people; on the other hand, he could not be sure. After all, the Malinya Centre was a medical centre. Why ruthless, then? Was there something Patrick knew but did not want to tell him? He felt he was in the middle of a nightmare, watching, like a silent movie, the soundless activity outside, and hearing a continuing high-pitched note inside, with Eleanor in grave danger.
The Colonel’s arm held his shoulder. It was no dream. Mike heard him say, through the interpreter’s flat-toned voice, ‘We have sixty-five of the very best troopers out there, waiting for the off.’
But then, Mike started feeling even more apprehensive about Eleanor: how safe would she be? Sixty-five armed men could cause havoc. He said, ‘How careful will they be?’
‘Careful?’
‘Not to kill.’
‘That depends on the reception they get. But be assured, they will not shoot to kill unless it’s necessary.’
Suddenly, the questions and answers no longer had any meaning. Both men turned to face the inside of the room. They were all listening, alerted to the change of frequency of the high C note. It had become a slow, steady ‘bleep, bleep’, and then the code for help. That sound echoed and re-echoed throughout the room. There was no other sound, until the Colonel’s voice shouted, ‘OK! It’s go! Now!’
Mike was ushered out of the control room. Seconds later the Colonel had hurried across to the window. He watched Mike being hauled into a waiting helicopter. Three had already risen. The last one, with Mike aboard, joined them. Then the Frenchman saw them vanish quickly in the direction of Malinya. It had stopped snowing.
Exactly five minutes later, Mike was viewing Malinya below, clear now in the fading light of the afternoon. The wind had risen and gusts were blowing loose snow around the entrance to the Medical Centre. But it was easy to see the building, for all the lights inside had been switched on. As his helicopter circled to land, he could see the other three now on the ground. The paratroopers were out in a flash, running towards the building.
By the time Mike reached the entrance, the troopers were already in control. Guards posted in the reception hall waved him through, as he dashed towards the corridors. Mike could see troopers spreading out, running and taking up positions. There was no firing, but there were people, frightened people, much in evidence. Some dressed in nursing uniforms, some obviously patients, were standing back from the activity. He felt sorry for them, and wondered what they must be thinking. He could feel the sweat soaking through his vest. Eleanor. Where was she? There were so many possibilities of what might have happened to her.
A guard was manning a door, way down towards the end of a long corridor. As they dashed towards him, the man pointed to the door facing him.
As they approached him, Mike knew enough French to understand the words he spoke. ‘Elle est dedans, ici – elle est dedans, ici!’
They had found her. Mike caught his breath. He could no longer wait for anyone. He rushed across to the door, turning the handle. The door was locked. He beat his hands upon it, shouting, ‘Eleanor! Eleanor!’ He waited, agonised, for a reply. It came.
He heard her voice, ‘Mike!’, she was calling back from the other side. ‘Mike! Thank God! The door’s double-locked!’
He called back, ‘Are you all right?’
Then she answered, ‘Yes, Mike. I’m alone, too.’
Mike beckoned the leader of his section to the door, pointing to the lock. The man smiled. ‘No problem,’ he said. He called four of his men to the door. Mike guessed they were going to smash the door down, and shouted to Eleanor to stand clear.
After three tremendous charges at the door, it still held firm. The only shots of the mission were about to be fired at the lock. Another shout from Mike to tell Eleanor that the lock was to be shot away was followed by two shots. The door was kicked open, and Mike rushed inside.
Eleanor was standing near the window, her hands covering her ears, perhaps expecting more deafening shots. But instead she saw Mike coming towards her, dressed in uniform. A moment later they were in each other’s arms.
The strain and tension, the terrible news she had to give to Mike, to the world … it suddenly became too much for her. Relief came with a flood of tears.
When at last the tears stopped, Mike, with his arms around her shoulders, gently led her away from the room, down the long corridors to the main hall, and then outside to the waiting helicopter.
There was no command from the military. Civilians stood around in groups, silent, shocked in disbelief. Were the troops on manoeuvres, and had they made a terrible mistake?
As the helicopter rose, taking Mike and Eleanor away to Mont Louis, the snow began to fall again, silently.