Exocet (1983)

by Jack Higgins

  'Simple. The commanding officer at Ile de Roc has a fast power boat in which Stavrou and I will return to St Martin. Once back, we fly out again in the Chieftain. First stop Finland, then the dear old homeland. I haven't been back in years. As I told you, you'll go with me. They'll love you in Moscow. You, too, of course,' he said to Gabrielle. 'I couldn't very well leave you behind, now could I, and you're too good to break?'

  It was the first time that Montera's control snapped. He took a quick step forward, hands coming up. Stavrou grabbed an Armalite from one of the guards, reversed it quickly and rammed the butt into the Argentinian's stomach. Montera went down.

  Gabrielle rushed to his side, dropping to her knees. Donner laughed as he looked down at them.

  'The only good thing I can say about the cellars here is that there's a lot of them, they're very secure and the windows are barred. However, they are rather cold.' He turned to Stavrou. 'Put the three of them in together. An intriguing situation. They might have to bundle.'

  * * *

  Wanda had heard a great deal of what went on, crouched as she was beside the landing rail in the darkness above the main hall. She saw Stavrou and the two guards escort Villiers, Montera and Gabrielle across to the door which she knew led to the cellars. After a while, Stavrou and one of the men returned. Donner appeared from the sitting room as the guard went out.

  He said, 'Everything okay?'

  'Fine,' Stavrou told him. 'The doors on those cells are more than secure. Bolts an inch thick and I've left a guard in the corridor.'

  'Good,' Donner said. 'Warn the men for a six o'clock start and make sure Rabier stays sober.'

  'I will. What about Wanda?'

  'Oh, yes, Wanda,' Donner said. 'I promised her something special. I've decided she can have you.'

  'You mean that?'

  'Of course. I wish you well to wear it,' Donner told him and returned to the sitting room.

  Wanda felt physically sick as revulsion and fear coursed through her. As Stavrou hurried across the hall and started up the stairs, she got to her feet and moved along the landing in the darkness, blundering along the passageway beyond until she reached the door to the back stairs. As she opened it, light flooded out and Stavrou, at the end of the landing, saw her.

  'Wanda!' he called.

  She went through the door fast, slammed it behind her and plunged down the stairs, kicking off her high heeled shoes as she went. She managed to get the back door open, was outside and running across the lawn into the trees by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs.

  She ran through the wood in panic, head down, an arm raised against flailing branches. Finally she paused to listen. She could hear him blundering about some distance away on her right. He called her name angrily and she moved away as quietly as possible.

  A few moments later, buildings loomed out of the night and the realised that she had come round in a circle to the rear of the stables. By now she was wet through and chilled to the bone. As she moved forward, she saw a ladder against the wall, leading up to a loft. She mounted it as silently as possible, aware of a murmur of conversation from the men in the stables.

  Once inside, she turned and pushed the ladder away. It fell into the soft rain-sodden ground with hardly a sound and she closed the loft door.

  There was laughter below, light coming up through the odd chink in the planks. She found herself an old horse-blanket and crawled into the corner, covering herself with musty hay. She was shaking terribly, still filled with fear and repugnance about the thought of Stavrou. Very gradually, she got control of herself and after a while, she slept.

  * * *

  Stavrou said, 'God knows where she's got to. Nothing but rain and darkness out there.'

  'Nowhere for her to go, she can't do us any harm,' Donner said contemptuously. 'I know my Wanda. The silly little bitch will come crawling back when she's had enough of the rain. Better go and check the men out now.'

  Stavrou went and Donner tried on the tunic again. It really did fit him rather well. His official rank in the KGB was colonel. Once back in Moscow they'd probably promote him to general for services rendered. He wondered what that uniform would look like on him.

  * * *

  Gabrielle dozed in the corner, Villiers' jacket about her shoulders. Montera took a cigarette packet from his pocket and found it empty. Villiers offered him one.

  As he gave Montera a light, he said: 'You remind me of an advert I used to see as a kid. It showed a man smoking a pipe and surrounded by beautiful women. It read: What's he got that other men haven't. The answer was the brand of tobacco. What's your secret?'

  'Relationships are really very simple,' Montera said. 'They either work or they don't. The moment you have to try hard, you've lost.'

  'Then I was in trouble from the beginning,' Villiers admitted. 'I seemed to spend all my time trying.' He glanced across at Gabrielle. 'A hell of a girl.'

  'I know,' Montera told him.

  'You would, wouldn't you?' Villiers said bitterly and went and sat on the bench in the corner, knees drawn up against his chest to conserve warmth.

  He fell asleep and was finally awakened by the sound of footsteps in the courtyard. He looked out in time to see a Landrover drive out of the garage. Stavrou was at the wheel, Donner beside him. They were both in uniform. Montera joined Villiers and they watched the Landrover turn out of the gate.

  'It's started,' Montera said.

  'So it would appear.'

  Gabridle stood up and joined them, pulling Villiers' jacket around her shoulders. 'What are we going to do?'

  'For the moment, nothing,' Villiers told her. 'Because there's nothing we can do.'

  * * *

  The detachment from the 23rd Guided Missile Regiment travelled in an army three-ton truck, the officer sitting up front beside the driver. It was just after six a.m. and raining heavily when it came round a bend in the road near Lancy and found the Landrover blocking the way. Donner, a military raincoat over his uniform, ran forward, waving his arms.

  The truck slowed, the officer wound the window down and learned out. 'What is it?'

  'Captain Leclerc?' Donner asked.

  'That's right.'

  'Major Dubois, on assignment at Ile de Roc at the moment. Crossed over to St Martin last night with the landing craft to be ready to pick you up this morning, but this appalling rain is causing problems. Heavy flooding on the main road, so I thought I'd come to meet you with an alternative route.'

  'That's very good of you,' Leclerc said.

  'Not at all. Just follow the Landrover and I'll have you there in no time.'

  * * *

  Montera was standing at the window, peering out through the bars when the Landrover drove into the courtyard, followed by the truck.

  Villiers and Gabrielle moved to his shoulder. 'Now what?' Villiers asked.

  Donner and Stavrou got out of the Landrover and Captain Leclerc jumped down to join them. He was a fair-haired young man with glasses which were giving him trouble in the rain.

  'Just exactly where are we?' he asked.

  The stable doors opened and Roux's men emerged on the run, everyone in uniform and carrying either a rifle or a sub-machine gun. The whole thing was over in a few moments, the rest of the detachment ordered out of the back of the truck at gunpoint and hustled away with Leclerc.

  Villiers turned to Montera. 'Clever bastard, isn't he?'

  They heard the sound of boots on the stone stairs outside, doors opening, then closing again, bolts ramming home. Suddenly there was a movement at their own door, it was opened and Stavrou appeared, two men at his back.

  'Right, Colonel, outside.'

  Montera hesitated. His hand reached for Gabrielle's, clung for a moment, then he moved out. She didn't say a word as the door slammed home and Villiers slipped an arm about her shoulders.

  Outside, the footsteps receded along the corridor and mounted the steps. Villiers went to the tiny barred window in the door and on looking out found t
he young French officer he'd seen in the courtyard, peering through the bars of the opposite door.

  'Who are you?' Villiers asked.

  'Captain Henri Leclerc, 23rd Guided Missile Regiment. What in the hell is this all about?'

  'I rather think they're substituting themselves for you and your men, so they can land on Ile de Roc.'

  'Good God!' Leclerc said. 'What for?'

  So Villiers told him.

  When he had finished, Leclerc said, 'And how does he intend to leave here when he gets back?'

  'He has a plane waiting at a bomber station up the road at Lancy. A Navajo Chieftain.'

  'He's certainly thought of everything.'

  'And not a damn thing we can do about it now. Even if we got out of here and put out a general alert, it would probably be too late. Aircraft can't land at Ile de Roc. Even helicopters have problems.'

  'That's not quite true,' Leclerc said. 'I was very thoroughly briefed on the island before my posting and there was some information about flying conditions which interested me as I'm a pilot myself. Did a light aircraft course with the Army Air Corps. They tried out landing small planes at the northern end of the island last year.'

  'But I thought there were cliffs there.'

  'True, but when the tide goes out it uncovers alarge area of firm sand. They found landing was no problem. Unfortunately the tide turns so quickly that it made the whole idea impracticable.'

  'It certainly is while we're stuck in here,' Villiers said, and he kicked the door in frustration.

  * * *

  Wanda, the blanket wrapped around her, huddled against a window in the loft and peered down as the men she had slept above all night climbed into the rear of the truck.

  Donner, Stavrou and Rabier, the pilot, stood at the bottom of the steps and as she watched, Stavrou tied Montera's hands together in front of him with a black silk scarf.

  'See how kind we're being,' Donner said. 'But the truth is, I don't want any tell-tale marks on your wrists when they find you.'

  'A true gentleman,' Montera said, and then Stavrou stuffed a handkerchief into his mouth.

  Donner said to Rabier. 'Right, you're on your own. Those cellars are as impregnable as the Bastille, but keep an eye on them anyway. We should be back in five to six hours.'

  'Very well, monsieur, you can rely on me.'

  'And if that bitch Wanda shows up, put her down in the cellar till I return.'

  Stavrou was by now at the wheel. 'Ready when you are, sir.'

  Donner climbed into the truck, and it moved away. Rabier turned and went up the steps into the house. It was very silent in the courtyard now, only the hissing of the rain, and Wanda huddled beside the window and waited.

  15

  Donner stood in the wheelhouse of the landing craft and looked through a porthole at the length of the ship. The hold was a steel shell. The cargo consisted of a large number of packing cases and the truck belonging to their own party, his men still inside. Beyond were the steel bow doors of the beaching exit.

  The sea was choppy with a slight breeze and although mist and rain had reduced visibility, they had made good time from St Martin. The captain, a young naval lieutenant, came in from the bridge and gave the helmsman an order.

  'Port five.'

  'Port five of wheel on, sir.'

  'Steady now.'

  'Steady, steering two-o-three, sir.'

  The lieutenant said to Donner, 'Not long now. Another twenty minutes.'

  'Perhaps I'll have a chance to offer you a drink when we land?'

  The young man shook his head. 'I'm only stopping long enough to put you and your party ashore, then I proceed to St Nazaire. I'm carrying electronic equipment for Guided Weapons H.Q.'

  Donner nodded cheerfully. 'Another time perhaps.'

  He went out on the bridge, wrapping the oilskin coat they had loaned him about his shoulders, and looked towards the great cliffs of Ile de Roc rising out of the sea.

  * * *

  The harbour was not large and the landing craft beached beside a stone jetty. One or two small sailing dinghies were pulled up on the sand above high water, but the only sizeable craft was a beautiful power boat, painted green.

  When the bow doors opened, the truck drove out across a specially constructed concrete apron to the start of a tarmacadam road, Donner walking beside it. A Landrover was parked there and the sole occupant, a tall, greying, middle-aged man wearing a jeep coat with a heavy fur collar over his uniform, got out.

  'Captain Leclerc?'

  'That's right,' Donner said.

  'Let's get out of this damned rain. Major Espinet - I'm in command here. I'll take you up to the site. Your truck can follow.'

  Donner nodded to Stavrou and got in. As the Landrover moved away, he said to Espinet. 'A beautiful boat down there in the harbour. Yours, I believe.'

  Espinet smiled. 'The pride of my life. Built by Akerboon. Steel hull, twin screws. She can do thirty-five knots.'

  'Wonderful,' Donner commented.

  'Helps pass the time in this Godforsaken spot,' Espinet told him. 'Not the most desirable of postings.'

  'That's what comes of losing the Empire,' Donner said amiably.

  The winding road that led up from the harbour was lined with old stone cottages, most of which appeared to be in ruins. 'Like most of these islands off the coast, the people left years ago,' remarked Espinet. 'It was just subsistence living here. Crofting and fishing. They seldom saw a ten franc note from one year's end to the other.'

  They went over the hill above the harbour and there was the camp, a small, ugly compound of flat-roofed concrete huts built to withstand the fury of the storms that swept in from the Atlantic in the winter months. A concrete tower some forty feet in height lifted above them, a narrow balcony encircling its glass walls at the top, a steel emergency ladder running down one side.

  Donner, who knew very well what it was, asked, 'What's that? The tower, I mean?'

  'Built to house the radio room,' Espinet said. 'We also operate a new kind of short wave scanner from up there when the missiles are testing. That's why we need height.'

  There was a row of bunkers some distance beyond. 'Are those the missile pens?' Donner asked.

  'That's right. They've got to be underground here. Nothing but Atlantic Ocean out there, which makes this an ideal test site, but the weather can be ferocious. Two winters ago it was so bad they evacuated for a month.'

  'They tell me half the people here are civilians?'

  'Yes. Eighteen military personnel at the moment. Only three officers, so we don't have much of a mess, I'm afraid.' Espinet turned the Landrover into the complex. 'You know, if you don't mind me saying so, there's something a little unusual about your accent.'

  'My mother,' Donner said. 'That's what's so unusual. She was Australian.'

  Espinet laughed. 'That certainly explains it.'

  He braked to a halt outside one of the concrete huts where two men in identical camouflage uniforms and black berets waited. One was a sergeant, the other wore captain's bars. As he came down to meet them Espinet said, 'Pierre Jobert, my second in command.'

  They got out and Espinet made the introductions. Jobert, a pleasant, rather world-weary young man with a thin moustache, smiled as he shook hands. 'Have you ever read Beau Geste, Captain Leclerc?'

  'Naturally,' Donner told him.

  Jobert waved a hand that took in the entire complex. 'Then you'll understand why we call this charming little hell-hole Fort Zinderneuf. Coffee waiting in your office, sir.'

  'Excellent,' Espinet said. 'Assisted by a little Cognac, I trust?' He turned to Donner. 'Sergeant Deville will see to your men.'

  'I'll be right with you,' Donner said. 'Must have a word with them myself first.'

  The two officers went inside and Donner moved to where Stavrou waited beside the truck, which had parked some little distance away. 'Montera still safely under wraps?'

  'In back with the boys.'

  'Good. I'm going to have
a drink with the CO. The moment I'm inside, take care of the radio tower, then everything else stage-by-stage, just the way we discussed it. Only eighteen military personnel here at the moment. The rest are civilians. Less than I thought.'

  'Probably a few away on furlough,' Stavrou said.

  Donner smiled. 'Lucky for them.' He turned and went up the steps to the door which Sergeant Deville held open for him.

  * * *

  Stavrou went round to the rear of the truck and the mercenary he had appointed as his second in command, a man named Jarrot, passed down a canvas holdall. At that moment, Sergeant Deville joined them.

  'Sergeants' mess first stop, then I'll drop off the rest of you.'

  Stavrou kneed him in the groin. As the sergeant started to go down, hands reached and hauled him into the back of the truck.

  Stavrou said to Jarrot, 'Okay, Claude, let's get moving.'

  Jarrot and Faure, the radio expert, jumped down, each carrying a canvas holdall, and the three of them crossed to the base of the radio tower. Stavrou opened the door and led the way up the narrow spiral staircase to the top. When he stepped out on to the narrow balcony, the wind tried to push him against the wall and he grabbed for the rail with his free hand. He could see the harbour clearly, but beyond the sea was shrouded with mist, as was the higher part of the island.

  Jarrot and the other man pushed up behind him and they looked in through the armoured glass of the door to the communications rooms. There were three operators in there, and two technical sergeants sitting at a desk in the centre. They looked up in surprise as Stavrou opened the door and the three men filed in. Stavrou dumped his holdall on the desk between the sergeants, scattering their papers.

  He grinned impudently. 'Good day to you, boys,' he said, and unzipped the holdall, taking out a Schmeisser machine pistol. 'This is what got the SS through the Second World War. Still does its job very well, so don't waste my time in arguing.'

  One of the sergeants jumped up, reaching for the holstered pistol at his belt, and Jarrot, who had produced an AK assault rifle from his holdall, smashed the butt against the side of the man's head. He went down with a groan.

  The remaining sergeant and the three radio operators got their hands up fast. Stavrou reached in his holdall and produced a number of steel handcuffs which he tossed on the table.