The Stockholm Syndicate

by Colin Forbes

  It was very bad luck - but in Henderson's view they had used up their share of luck - that one of Gunther Baum's East German security men happened to be patrolling the stern as the ladder took hold. He was taken aback for a few seconds when the grapple appeared out of nowhere, then he unlooped his automatic weapon from his shoulder and peered over the rail. Henderson was a perfect target, silhouetted in his frogman's suit. The security man raised his weapon and took swift aim.

  There was a hiss of compressed air, no other sound at all, as the spear released from Palme's harpoon-gun thudded into the German's chest. He slumped forward over the rail, dropping his weapon into the sea. Henderson climbed the ladder, reached the rail, glanced along the deserted deck. Using one hand, he tumbled the man over the side. Palme had already climbed the ladder and a file of men were appearing, their heads bobbing in the water like sea-monsters. Henderson, now over the rail and standing on the deck with Palme, glanced at his watch.

  "Less than two minutes before Johnson signals the Russian captain he can get moving."

  "We have just made it."

  Before the engines of Kometa began throbbing underfoot, all the twenty men were aboard the hydrofoil. Advance scouts had been sent a short distance forward to deal with any fresh patrols. And Henderson had been very explicit in his instructions regarding this stage.

  "According to Sobieski, the Polish sonar controller aboard, we'll be out-numbered by the East German security guards - and those johnnies are trained to prime condition. There are thirty of them. So for as long as possible we use the silent kill."

  The advance scouts - under Palme's command on the port side, under Max Kellerman's command to starboard - were armed with knives and wire garottes. Their instructions were to use firearms and grenades only as a last resort - and preferably not until one of the two section commanders gave permission.

  On the port side a second security guard in a leather jacket took a step forward and then stopped, staring in disbelief. He was still trying to decide whether he had seen the outline of men in frog suits when one of them stepped out behind him from between two lifeboats and plunged a razor-edged stiletto with a savage upward thrust just below the left shoulder-blade. The East German grunted. He was dead before he hit the deck.

  His executioner reported the incident and then cautiously moved again towards the bridge. The head count of guards eliminated was important: it told both Palme and Kellerman how many of the opposition were still alive. As the hydrofoil began to get under way Henderson's task was quite different and exceptionally hazardous.

  Several times Jules Beaurain had emphasised the danger of the mission Henderson had suggested for himself. "You could be very exposed," the Belgian had warned, 'if they start the vessel up while you're still working on the main foil."

  "I have allowed for that," Henderson had assured his chief. "It is a chance I have to take. It is the only way I can attach timer-and-impact explosives to the most vulnerable part of Kometa."

  Timer-and-impact explosives were a new device which the mild-mannered boffins at Château Wardin had recently invented. The device worked initially like time-bombs. But the refinement covered the possibility that the timing mechanism might not work.

  Independent of the timer, the explosive detonated instantaneously on impact with another object, and the force of the impact needed for detonation could be varied by setting a meter which was an essential part of the device.

  Henderson's objective was now to reach the bow of Kometa in the shortest possible time, attach the special explosives to the giant foils in the shortest possible time, and, assuming he survived what Beaurain had called 'a real Russian-roulette risk', he would then make himself available for the final assault against the bridge.

  The Sikorsky had been lifted high into the night. In his float-plane the pilot, Smithy, had suddenly adopted more sober behaviour and was flying across the Baltic away from the Soviet ship prior to taking off - leaving the sea clear for Captain Livanov to resume his course. On the bridge the Russian had received the signal from the coast guard vessel informing him that the floating mine had been destroyed, that it was safe to proceed.

  Both Livanov and Viktor Rashkin now felt confident that all was well that the extraordinary behaviour of the helicopter pilot was simply the Danes taking every precaution to ensure Kometa obeyed instructions until the danger was past.

  "After all," Livanov pointed out, 'we did see the mine explode! I would not like the bow of this ship to have collided with that."

  "You are, of course, right," Rashkin agreed. "And now I suggest we proceed at top speed round Bornholm which means demonstrating to our guests the thrill of skimming the wavetops. And I must now return to the dining-room."

  Livanov gave the order to increase speed and Kometa began to move, a dart of glowing light shooting towards the flashing lamp which was the lighthouse close to The Hammer on the island of Bornholm. "Skimming the wavetops' was not the phrase Livanov would have used but it did describe the sensation of travelling aboard the hydrofoil at full power. Reaching out a hand, Livanov personally pulled at the lever which operated the foils. The ship rose up until its whole length of hull was clear of the Baltic supported only by its immense blades of steel.

  As Rashkin left the bridge the two teams of invaders, one led by Palme, the other by Max Kellerman, had silently despatched five of the thirty East Germans guarding the ship. They were also putting into effect the second part of Beaurain's plan - which involved stationing men at the head of all companionways and exits leading to the main deck. Anyone attempting to mount the steps from a lower deck would immediately feel the impact of a harpoon. Both to port and starboard Stig and Max were now in control of the rear half of the ship. Only one man was facing problems: Henderson was in danger of losing his life.

  *

  The magnetic clamps Henderson had activated held him by the forearms and legs to the huge steel blade as he fought to complete his task. He was now lifted clear of the Baltic which was flashing past below at incredible speed. And the forward movement of the hydrofoil was creating a powerful wind which blew in his face, half-blinding his face-mask with spume and surf, tearing at his body in its attempt to rip him free from the blade and hurl him down into the water where the stern foils of Kometa would pass over him, cutting him to mince.

  "God damn them!"

  He had hoped to finish attaching the explosives and to have hauled himself over the rail and onto the ship's deck before the vessel continued its cruise. Cruise? This was more like a bloody race he thought, and when he wiped his face-mask free of surf smears he could see in the distance a flashing lamp. The lighthouse above The Hammer, the dreaded cliffs at the northern tip of the island of Bornholm which they were approaching fast.

  As he positioned the second device underneath the foil - out of sight from anyone looking down from the deck above - the vibrations of the engines pounded his body as though he were operating half-a-dozen road drills. Henderson literally found he was shaking like a jelly. Only by making a supreme effort was he able to position the second device, activate first the magnetic clamps which attached it to the blade, then turn the switch which activated both timer and impact systems.

  To negotiate the steep-angled support he had to repeat his earlier performance, switching off the magnetic clamps strapped round his left leg and arm, supported only by the other two holding his right forearm and leg. He then had to haul himself higher with his free left leg and arm. The process then had to be reversed so he could climb higher still up the prop, closer to the hull, this time employing his right leg and arm. His progress was not helped by the wind plucking furiously at him, by the roar of the hydrofoil thundering through the dark, by the engine vibrations which were rapidly weakening his remaining physical reserves.

  Don't give up or you're finished!

  It was the first time Henderson could remember having felt compelled to consider the possibility, and now he was realising it would be wiser never to look down. In hi
s weakened state he was beginning to suffer from vertigo. The sight of the surf-edged water sheeting past below was dizzy-making. Every movement was a reflex of will-power. He

  didn't really care whether he made it or not - and the thought galvanised him with self-contempt.

  A million years later he hauled himself over the rail and collapsed on the deck, lying still while he waited for his natural resilience to assert itself. That was when the machine-gun fire started, punctuated by the crack of stun and fragment grenades.

  *

  "Give me the gun, Oscar."

  Gunther Baum reached out a hand without looking and Oscar gave him the Luger immediately. The East German was standing on the port side and had no reason at all to suspect anything out of the ordinary. Ahead of him stretched the open deck. He could see dimly the sway of the lifeboats slung from their davits as Kometa showed her honoured guests what she was capable of, moving like a bird. Behind Gunther Baum his companion, Oscar, took a tighter grip on his own automatic weapon now he was no longer concerned with the brief-case.

  "Is there something wrong?" Oscar shouted. It was the last sentence he ever uttered. The words were hardly out of his mouth when a missile hurtled towards him. He screamed and staggered back, Palme's harpoon protruding from his chest. Swiftly Baum, who was concealed in the darkness, aimed at a moving shadow and fired. The shadow dropped. Baum shouted in German at the top of his voice.

  "Mass on the bridge! Withdraw from the deck!" Then he unscrewed his silencer and fired into the air twice.

  Theoretically it was sound strategy, as Palme was the first to recognise. Baum was planning on assembling his men on the ship's equivalent of the high ground the bridge from where they could pour a hail of gunfire down onto the intruders approaching from the deck below.

  Baum reached the bridge because of the swiftness of his movements, running crouched up the steps and pressing himself upright against the rear of the bridge. From here he could see exactly what was happening. He witnessed a massacre - of his own troops.

  On the port side Palme projected the beam of a powerful lamp on his staircase; on the starboard side Kellerman employed the same tactic. Caught in the glare of the two lights, the MfS men jammed on the staircases were targets which could not be missed. There was a continuous rattle of automatic fire from the Telescope men and Baum saw his guards collapsing and tumbling over each other as they went back down the staircases. He raised his Luger and aimed it at the glaring lamp. As though anticipating he had pushed his luck far enough, Palme turned off the lamp at that moment and jumped to one side. Two bullets from Baum's Luger thudded harmlessly into the woodwork beside him.

  It was Henderson, emerging on the rear of the bridge from the starboard side, who saw the almost invisible Gunther Baum pressed close to the woodwork. A brief glimpse, he pinpointed his position when the German fired his two bullets. Taking a grenade from his pocket, Henderson removed the pin, counted and then rolled it along the deck. The grenade stopped rolling a few inches from the feet of Gunther Baum. There was a flash which illuminated the whole of the rear of the bridge, showing Baum as its sole occupant, a thunder-crack as the grenade detonated. Baum fell forward, arms out-stretched, slithered over the rail and hit the deck below.

  It was time to storm the interior of the bridge, take complete control of the vessel - and destroy it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  "Slow down to five knots," Rashkin ordered as he ran back onto the bridge. He had come up from below via a small stairwell which led to his cabin and the main dining-room.

  "Slow down?" Livanov was confused.

  "For Christ's sake give the order - we are under attack."

  He broke off as he heard a loud explosion beyond the rear of the bridge. He did not know that this had killed Baum but he immediately grasped that the opposition had won - they had reached bridge level. Without issuing further orders he disappeared down the small stairwell, paused cautiously at the bottom, a Walther automatic in his hand, saw that the passageway was deserted and ran to his cabin.

  He had already warned all his guests to remain in the dining-room, assuring them that they were in the safest place, that the intruders would be dealt with speedily. Rashkin had sensed that Baum's defences were being overwhelmed, that this would be followed by the destruction of Kometa and all aboard her. Someone was taking violent vengeance for the killing of Jules Beaurain. Telescope were in action.

  The speed of Kometa had been considerably reduced by the time he reached the cabin. A man of great agility, it took him hardly any time to strip off his outer clothes and wriggle himself into the skin-diver's suit he had brought aboard secretly in a hold-all bag. Rashkin had only survived in his present position by always preparing for every contingency - and he never neglected his escape route.

  As he unscrewed the porthole cover he was armed with two weapons - a sheath knife and the waterproof watch attached to his wrist. It was most fortunate that his cabin was on the starboard side. As he swung back the cover he could see clearly the warning flashes of the lighthouse above The Hammer on Bornholm. And he calculated the hydrofoil was no more than a couple of miles from the Danish island.

  Climbing backwards through the porthole, he lowered himself until his body was hanging against the hull, supported only by his hands. He let go without hesitation or trepidation, knowing that at this position there was no risk of his hitting the submerged foil - the speed had dropped to five knots and the vessel was moving like an ordinary ship. There was a risk, however, in getting caught in the stern undertow, hurled into the wake and chopped to pieces by the propeller.

  He felt his feet catch the slow-moving hull and kicked out with all his strength, lunging himself backwards and away from the hull which was gracefully sliding past him. Then, still lying on his back, he began to swim with strong purposeful strokes. Behind him the hull went on gliding past. Above he saw the lights of the dining-saloon. The ship seemed oddly deserted.

  The interior of the bridge resembled a slaughterhouse. A few of Baum's surviving security guards had retreated there to join Livanov just before Henderson ordered the final attack to begin. He used one word.

  "Grenades!"

  Three minutes later, followed by Palme and several of his gunners, he entered the deathtrap. He first checked the steering gear. Someone - doubtless Livanov - had at the last moment turned the vessel onto automatic pilot. Like a robot - or a ghost ship - the huge hydrofoil Kometa was cruising slowly across the Baltic. He began organising the evacuation of his own men: three were dead, seventeen had survived due to the element of surprise and the co-operation of Peter Sobieski. Palme had personally found the Pole and brought him to the bridge. Henderson was talking to Max Kellerman who had just arrived on the bridge.

  "What is the position with that international scum waiting in the dining saloon? The élite of the Stockholm Syndicate?"

  Trapped inside the saloon. The special section fought its way down, wiped out the guards and then welded up the doors with the equipment they brought. The passengers might get out if they try smashing the windows, but I don't think they will try it in time. The shooting rather discouraged exploration."

  "Fix the bombs to the doors, then leave - all of you - by the smashed windows," said Henderson. "I stay until I get this damned ship moving."

  "You'll have trouble leaving her," Palme interjected. "I mean when she's travelling at top speed. And the rescue boats are coming in."

  "I said fix those bombs," Henderson repeated.

  It was the green Verey light Henderson had fired into the night sky which had summoned the rescue boats. Coming up fast behind Kometa, the British motor vessel with Beaurain and Louise aboard and commanded by Captain Buckminster had paused after the green flare exploded like a firework.

  "My God! Jock's done it!"

  Louise was so relieved that she hugged Beaurain publicly as they stood on Firestorm's bridge. Already power-boats lowered over the side were plunging through the night towards the slow-movin
g Kometa, their searchlights turned on full power to locate Telescope's gunners who would be diving into the sea.

  Behind the wake of Kometa, which was still moving at five knots, a series of tiny lights were beginning to appear, all bobbing on the water. Power-boats despatched from Firestorm were already slowing down, each heading for a light.

  The 'coast guard' vessel Regula had returned to its mother ship and was being winched aboard prior to being lowered, dripping with sea water, into the cavernous hold of Firestorm. And by now Henderson was alone on the bridge, leaning out of a smashed window as he watched the last gunners leaving. He was enclosed inside the bridge with the bodies of the dead East German security guards and attached to all entrances to the bridge were the special bombs -bombs which exploded outwards on detonation away from the interior of the bridge. The objective was to ensure that anyone who might escape from the dining-room could never reach the controls on the bridge alive.

  It had been Viktor Rashkin's plan to swim the two miles to Bornholm's shoreline, taking his time, but as he saw a power-boat with one man aboard heading in his direction he took a swift decision. The power-boat was heading on a course which would take it past him by about twenty yards. He waited for the right moment, hoisted himself briefly out of the water and waved.

  The crewman from Firestorm saw him and changed course, reducing speed. His orders were to pick up as many men as he could in the shortest possible time. The fact that the man swimming in the sea carried no flashing light did not strike him as strange, nor did he notice that the colour of the frogman's suit was wrong. He hauled his first rescue aboard.