Operation Omega

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Operation Omega Page 7

by Hilary Green


  It was full dark by now and, as none of the rooms on that side of the house were lighted, the garden lay before her in deep shadow. She crossed the lawn quickly, heading for where she knew it ended in the waters of the Hamble. A short way upstream she found what she was looking for—a dinghy with an outboard motor which she had noticed tied up to a small landing-stage the previous day. Leo climbed aboard and cast off. Ignoring the motor she took up the oars and began to pull for the opposite bank. Hidden away safely at the bottom of her suitcase back in the house was a large-scale map of the area, on which she had identified without much difficulty the old people’s home where Farnaby’s boathouse was. With the mental image of that clearly before her, she leaned on the oars and allowed the current to carry her downstream towards the estuary.

  * * *

  Stone shifted uncomfortably. Sitting on top of a wall with the branch of an oak tree digging into his shoulder-blade was not his favourite occupation.

  ‘Sod ornithology for a living!’ he muttered. ‘I’ve had enough of this.’

  In the almost total darkness among the tree branches beside him Nick Marriot chuckled softly.

  ‘And we haven’t heard so much as a chirrup from a nightingale…’ He broke off. ‘Hang about. Listen.’

  ‘That was a duck, not a nightingale,’ Stone told him. ‘Even I know that.’

  ‘Not birds, you fool,’ Nick whispered. ‘A car.’

  A few seconds later they saw the headlights of the car bouncing down the rutted track which led to the boat-house.

  ‘Heads down,’ muttered Stone, and they both hid their faces from the beam until the car had passed below them and parked by the landing-stage.

  The boat-house was quite large and looked as if it might once have been used for a boatbuilding business. It had clearly fallen into disrepair but an inspection during daylight had shown that recently someone had fitted new doors and window-frames and replaced rotten timbers in the landing-stage. They saw Farnaby unlock the side door and go inside, followed by the other two men.

  ‘He’s not too bothered about anyone spotting him,’ Nick murmured.

  ‘You saw the gear,’ Stone replied. ‘Any queries, he’s having an innocent bit of night fishing.’

  A long wait followed.

  ‘I wonder where Leo is,’ Nick whispered.

  Stone grinned in the darkness. ‘Probably floating around out there disguised as a coot or something.’

  ‘Oh come on!’ Nick protested. ‘A swan, surely.’

  ‘You’ve got birds on the brain.’

  ‘I’ve got birds on the brain!’

  ‘Quiet!’ Stone cocked his head towards the river. Faintly, over the rustle of the wind in the trees and the lapping of the water under the landing-stage, they both heard the steady throb of a marine diesel engine. The door of the boat-house opened and Farnaby and his two men came out and stood looking down the estuary. In a few minutes they saw the masthead and port navigation lights of an approaching vessel and a sleek, ocean-going motor yacht glided almost silently up to the landing-stage. Cole and Stirling caught the mooring ropes and almost before they had fastened them three men came ashore, to be greeted by Farnaby. There was a murmured conversation and an exchange of handshakes and then Farnaby and two of the men withdrew towards the boat-house while the third helped Cole and Stirling to unload a number of packages which they transferred to the boot of the Cortina.

  ‘That’s the evidence we need,’ Stone whispered.

  ‘When do we take them?’ Nick asked.

  ‘It’ll have to be soon if we want to get them all,’ Stone replied. He eased his position, trying to loosen cramped muscles and at the same time freeing his gun in the shoulder holster. It had been his decision not to alert the local police for fear of frightening Farnaby off, but now he was beginning to wonder if he had been wrong. ‘I wish to hell I knew what Leo’s playing at,’ he muttered.

  The unloading was finished. Cole collected Farnaby’s rod and tackle box and went on board the yacht with them.

  ‘Clever!’ whispered Nick. ‘If anyone asks questions, the boat just put in here to pick him up for the fishing trip.’

  ‘Time to move,’ said Stone. ‘You take the chauffeur and the two men on the yacht, and I’ll deal with Farnaby and the other two.’

  He twisted round and dropped silently onto the track below the wall. Nick followed him. They drew their weapons and crept like shadows towards the landing-stage. As they approached it one of the men with Farnaby struck a match to light a cigarette and as he bent his head to the flame Stone experienced a shock of recognition—a shock which seemed to take physical form in a sudden splitting pain in the back of his skull.

  For a while he was conscious of nothing except the pain and the ensuing nausea. Then he became aware that he was on the ground, that he had lost his gun and that somebody had a knee in the small of his back.

  ‘Don’t make a sound!’ a voice hissed, and he felt the barrel of a pistol cold against his neck.

  He heard the engine of a car start and, twisting his face out of the rough grass, saw the headlights of the Cortina sweep past him a few yards away. The knee was removed from his back.

  ‘Get up!’

  He staggered to his feet and saw that nearby Nick was being hauled to his. One man behind him, another with Nick, and a third was moving away towards the boat-house. But where had they come from—and who were they working for? He tried to turn his head to see if there were any more of them but was rewarded with a vicious jab in the spine from the barrel of his captor’s pistol.

  ‘Move! That way.’

  As he walked towards the landing-stage Stone saw that the yacht had already put off and was heading downstream with Farnaby on the deck. The rest were presumably either on board or had gone in the car because only one remained. Seeing him, Stone remembered the face lit by the flare of the match. Stratos Zahran! Only six months ago his photograph had been circulated all round Triple S as a known terrorist hit-man who had entered the country illegally. One of Stone’s colleagues had found him, on that occasion, and he had been deported. Now he was back—thanks to Farnaby.

  The leader of the three who had ambushed them had reached Zahran and greeted him with an embrace. Then he turned and indicated Stone and Marriot. As they stumbled onto the landing-stage he was saying,

  ‘We were waiting back there for the rest of them to get out of the way. We saw these two drop out of a tree. They were planning to take all of you.’

  Zahran jerked his head. ‘Bring them.’ They were shoved forward. ‘Search them.’

  They were quickly relieved of their radios, handcuffs and warrant cards. Zahran cast his eye over them.

  ‘SSS. Of course, it would be! You people are beginning to annoy me.’ He turned to the man beside him. ‘We have no time to waste on them. They cannot have known who to expect or there would have been more of them. Your men can finish them after we have gone and dump the bodies in the river. Where is your car?’

  ‘Back there on the road.’

  ‘Come then.’ Zahran picked up a small suitcase. ‘The sooner we are on the way the better.’

  He began to walk away up the track. The leader of the reception committee turned to the other two.

  ‘You heard him. Do it!’

  Then he went quickly after Zahran. There was a silence, broken when the man guarding Nick spat out a word, the meaning of which was perfectly clear although the language was one which Stone could not recognize.

  ‘Bloody marvellous!’ said his companion. ‘Leave us to do the dirty work!’

  ‘Shoot them and get it over,’ said the foreigner, who was dark-haired and olive-skinned.

  ‘Oh sure!’ exclaimed the other. ‘And dump them in the river for the pigs to find, with slugs from our guns in them.’

  ‘So what?’ demanded the dark one.

  ‘So it’s too risky! We’ll tie them up and weight them and then chuck them in. That way there’ll be less chance of connecting us with the bodi
es.’

  Stone looked around him, trying to assess the chances of jumping them before it was too late. Nick’s head was drooping and he appeared to be swaying slightly. His attacker must have hit him very hard and he was clearly in no condition to make a sudden move. Stone sought desperately for a way of distracting the two men’s attention long enough for him to grab the gun from the one nearest him. But even if he achieved that much he could not be sure of disabling the other one before he shot Nick.

  Suddenly the dark man swung round. ‘Who’s there?’ There might just have been a chance if Nick had been alert but before he could react his captor grabbed him by the arm and swung him across in front of him, his gun pressed into his ribs.

  ‘What is it?’ the Englishman asked tensely.

  ‘I thought I heard something out there, on the water—oars, perhaps.’

  They listened.

  ‘Probably a water-rat or something,’ said the Englishman.

  Then, out of the darkness, came a woman’s voice.

  ‘Don’t shoot! Where’s Zahran?’

  The two men exchanged rapid glances.

  ‘Come here,’ called the Englishman. ‘Who are you?’

  There was a splash of oars and a gentle bump and then Leo scrambled up onto the landing-stage.

  ‘Who are you?’ the man repeated.

  She looked from him to his companion and then addressed the latter rapidly in his own language. He listened, nodded and appeared to relax a little.

  ‘She says she’s come from Bin Sayeed with a message for Zahran.’

  ‘What message?’

  ‘I cannot tell it to you,’ Leo replied, her voice lightly accented. ‘Only to Zahran.’

  ‘So who are you? Where have you come from? You’re not Arab—no way!’

  ‘No, I am not. Have I said that I was? My nationality is Lebanese, but my parents were Greek. My name is Despina.’

  ‘How did you get here? What were you doing paddling around out there?’

  1 came in by air today. They sent me because I am not known in this country. I hired a car and drove down but some fool told me the wrong place for the rendezvous. I went to Farnaby’s house, on the other side of the river. When there was no sign of the yacht there I stole the little boat to try and find it. I saw it going away again, but I thought Zahran would be here.’

  ‘He’s gone,’ the Englishman told her.

  She spoke to the other man again in his own language and he replied. Stone thought he saw a chance and braced himself to kick out but the Arab was still on his guard. He jerked his gun towards Stone and said sharply,

  ‘Watch him! He’s going to try something.’ The Englishman caught Stone with a vicious backhand swipe across the mouth and sent him staggering.

  ‘Who are these men?’ Leo inquired unemotionally.

  ‘Government agents,’ said the Englishman. ‘They were waiting for the yacht. Zahran told us to finish them and drop them in the river.’

  ‘Take them in there and tie them up,’ the Arab told him. ‘We’ll decide how to deal with them when we’ve sorted this out.’

  Stone had no alternative but to yield as they were pushed at gunpoint round the side of the building. The rear door had been left unlocked, either by accident or design, and within minutes both he and Marriot were fastened by their own handcuffs to a couple of stout iron stanchions at the far end, where they could no longer hear what was being said outside.

  ‘Have you interrogated them?’ Leo asked when the two men returned.

  ‘There’s no time,’ the Englishman said curtly. ‘And no need. We know who they are.’

  ‘But don’t you want to know why they were here?’ she persisted.

  ‘I’ve told you, there’s no time,’ he snapped. ‘We should have been clear of this place long ago. Let’s get back to you. You say your name is Despina and you come from Bin Sayeed. Can you prove that?’

  She flashed him a look of contempt. ‘Would I carry that sort of proof on me? Isn’t it enough that I know Bin Sayeed, and that I knew Zahran was due here tonight? Take me to him quickly.’

  The Englishman grinned suddenly. ‘OK. You want us to believe you. I tell you how you can convince us. You can shoot these two— prove whose side you’re on.’

  The Arab made a guttural sound of protest. ‘It is not a woman’s job.’

  ‘Stuff that!’ his companion said sharply. ‘You know as well as I do that your women are as good with a gun as most of the men. If she’s been trained by Bin Sayeed she won’t be afraid to pull a trigger.’ He turned to Leo. ‘Well?’

  She shrugged indifferently. ‘I’ll do it—since you are afraid to do it yourselves. Bring one of them out here—the young one. He may crack and tell us something before he dies.’

  ‘Fetch him.’

  The Arab went inside.

  ‘Do you have a gun?’

  Leo took out the Walther and ejected the clip of shells.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

  ‘Checking,’ she replied calmly.

  He turned as the Arab brought Nick round the corner of the building. When he looked back at Leo she was replacing the clip, and screwing on the silencer.

  ‘Over there, in front of the doors,’ the Englishman said.

  Nick stood where he was put, gazing intently at Leo. He was steadier on his feet now and his eyes were clearer.

  ‘Well, my friend,’ Leo remarked, balancing the gun casually in one hand, ‘are you going to tell us why you are here?’

  ‘You’re going to shoot me anyway,’ he replied. ‘Why should I tell you anything?’

  ‘Get on with it and get it over,’ the Englishman said restlessly.

  Leo laughed. ‘Look at him! What an actor he is. See how he is pretending that he does not believe I will shoot him? See how he pretends not to be afraid?’

  ‘Will you get on with it!’ The words were ground out between clenched teeth.

  ‘Very well.’ Leo raised the gun in both hands and aimed it steadily at Nick’s heart. ‘Let us see how good an actor you really are. How long can you go on pretending?’

  Her eyes gazed into Nick’s over the faint gleam of the gun barrel. He stared back as if hypnotized. Leo’s finger squeezed the trigger.

  The gun coughed once. Nick’s body shot backwards and thudded into the wooden doors behind him, then jack-knifed over, his hands clutching at his chest, his eyes still staring towards Leo, and finally toppled forward to lie face down on the boards of the landing-stage. It twitched once, convulsively, and was still.

  Leo looked down at it expressionlessly.

  ‘Bring the other one,’ she said.

  The Arab moved back towards the door. Inside they heard a sudden crash and the sound of feet kicking against the wall. Stone had heard the shot and was struggling desperately to get free.

  ‘Go with him,’ Leo said. ‘That one is dangerous.’

  The Englishman hesitated and she exclaimed, ‘Go! You don’t think I am afraid to be left alone with a body, do you?’

  He turned and disappeared round the corner. As soon as he was out of sight Leo, moving with the dancer’s speed and lightness of foot, went to pick up Nick’s gun from where the men had dropped it when he was searched.

  Then she moved over to crouch beside his body. His eyelids flickered and he looked up.

  ‘Was I OK?’

  ‘Brilliant, darling,’ she murmured. ‘Not a dry eye in the house. But we don’t have time to stay for the curtain calls. Here.’

  She handed him his gun. He took it and rolled on his face again, concealing it beneath his body. They could hear Stone struggling and swearing as he was dragged out of the boathouse. Leo moved away, replacing as she went the clip in her gun with one taken from her pocket. When they rounded the corner of the building with Stone she was leaning casually against a bollard.

  Stone saw Nick’s body as soon as he came round the corner and even in the starlight Leo saw his jaw clench and his eyes, when he looked towards her, glittered l
ike frost. The thought crossed her mind that she would not give much for the chances of anyone who had really harmed Nick Marriot as long as Stone was alive. Aloud she said,

  ‘Bring him here. The light’s better away from the building.’

  As soon as he was out of their line of sight Nick rolled over and came soundlessly to his feet, the gun in both hands.

  ‘OK. That’s far enough. Just stop right there.’

  The Arab stood rigid, as if terrified to look behind him, but the other swung round, starting to lift his pistol.

  ‘Don’t do it!’ Leo warned him. ‘You’re between the Devil and the deep blue sea.’

  He stared from her to Nick and back again. ‘Shit!’ he said.

  Stone closed his eyes for a moment and took a long breath, like a man coming up from a deep dive.

  ‘You know, for a moment,’ he said, ‘you almost had me worried.’

  ‘Had you worried!’ Nick exclaimed. ‘She practically scared me to death. If you hadn’t given me that clue about acting, Leo, I think I’d probably have died of heart failure.’

  She grinned at him. ‘Never mind, love, one more performance like that and you’ll be able to apply for your Equity card.’ She looked at the two prisoners. ‘Hadn’t you better do something about them?’

  Once the men had been searched and handcuffed in their turn to the stanchions in the boat-house Leo, Stone and Nick settled down on some boxes at the opposite end for a conference.

  ‘Right,’ said Stone. ‘Next step… Obviously Zahran is the first priority, but do we call in the local force to search the house while we’re reasonably sure the dope is still there or do we wait for Farnaby to come back from his “fishing” trip?’

  ‘Wait for Farnaby and pick them all up together,’ said Nick.

 

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