Cross of Fire (87 page)

The main assault was mounted against the Ministry of
the Interior. A hundred Austerlitz troops surged out of
various stolen tradesmen's vehicles. To their surprise and
delight the gates were not locked leading into the courtyard from the Place Beauveau. Brushing aside the guards, they
stormed into the courtyard, heading for the inside of the
ministry. General de Forge had pinpointed this as the prime
objective - on the advice of his wife, Josette, who had since
disappeared.

They stopped suddenly as large forces of other men in
Balaclavas appeared in front of them. Behind them the gates
were closed and they were trapped. Before they could decide
what was happening the CRS in Balaclavas were on them, wielding rifle butts, rubber truncheons, cracking skulls, fell
ing the invaders. The CRS are not noted for their gentlemanly
behaviour. Any man without a green armband was a target.

Navarre watched the violent melee from the window of his office on the first floor. Again the vanquished attackers were carried, thrown into a fleet of Berliet trucks which edged their way through the opened gates.

An hour later the CRS unit commanders from all over the city had reported they'd done the job. Navarre acted
immediately. Special CRS units had kept TV vans and
reporters well away from the onslaughts. Navarre appeared
on television. He briefly reported that 'terrorists' had been
detained, that the city was now quiet.

General Charles de Forge was a resolute commander. When
he received the call from Major Lamy in Arcachon he
listened.

'It is a complete disaster, General!' Lamy sounded
shaken. 'The
Steel Vulture
was almost inside the
bassin
when
it blew up - exploded into the sky. It was reported that
wartime mines had been seen floating offshore. I thought it
was bluff. The extra weapons you were waiting for will
never reach us ...'

'Thank you, Lamy. Report back to GHQ.'

De Forge put down the phone. He stood up to address
the officer awaiting instructions.

'We move now. Operation Marengo is launched. I intend
to travel in the lead tank of an Armoured Division. I ordered
the other commanders to open their sealed orders one hour
ago. Victory will be ours - before the day is out...'

Aboard
L'Orage V
Tweed read the statement de Forge had
issued the night before - timed to catch the next day's
edition of
Le Monde.

Exercise Marengo is being extended to Central France. The
exercise will move no further north than Chateauroux. The
population is warned to keep clear of where the
exercise is taking
place. Under certain conditions live ammunition may be used.

'What does it mean?' Paula asked.

Tweed looked out of the porthole. It was mid-afternoon and the cabin cruiser was swaying like a ballet dancer. He had taken another Dramamine.

'Note the use of the word "exercise".' he pointed out.
'Repeated twice. An attempt to confuse Navarre. And from Chateauroux the N20 runs due north to Paris. As I predicted
that will be his route. Not a devious flanking movement to the west as they thought in Paris.'

'I am sure you are right.' said Berthier. 'He'll move at top
speed through the night. When Paris wakes up de Forge's
forces will be on the Champs-Elysees. He has won.'

'What made you predict his route up the N20?' Paula
asked.

Tweed smiled drily. 'When I was visiting Josette in the
Passy house I noticed a bust of Napoleon. One of de Forge's
heroes. He'll have studied his campaigns. When Napleon
was advancing against Wellington he drove his army at top speed direct for Brussels, surprising Wellington when his
enemy reached Quatre Bras. Paris is de Forge's Brussels -the direct thrust by the shortest route.'

'And nothing to stand in his way.' Newman said grimly.

'Not a lot.' Tweed agreed. He looked at the DST officer
in charge of the vessel. 'I think we should all return to Paris. There is an Alouette waiting for us on the island? Good ...'

He paused as they heard someone crossing the gang
plank. Newman moved to the side of the bottom of the companionway, the Smith & Wesson in his hand. Footsteps clumped noisily down the wooden steps. Victor Rosewater
stopped at the bottom, smiled at Paula and the others.

'I thought you'd be somewhere in Arcachon. Well, it's
the big goodbye to Lord Dane Dawlish.'

'We're all drenched in tears.' said Newman.

Rosewater looked at Tweed. 'I thought you should know
Major Lamy is still in Arcachon. Why isn't he with de
Forge?' He glanced at Paula. 'Some unfinished business in
Arcachon?'

Chapter Fifty-Seven

'I also saw Brand in a bar in Arcachon late this morning.'
Rosewater told Tweed.

'Brand. I've been wondering about him.'

Tweed said nothing more as he peered down out of the
window of the airborne Alouette.
Aboard the machine were Isabelle and Paula, chatting to each other, Stahl, Newman,
Butler, Nield, and Berthier. All on their way home via Paris.

Tweed, in a hurry, had been irked by the long delay on
the island. Some mechanical defect in the Alouette's engine
which had to be remedied. It was still daylight, but only
just, when they caught up with the Third Army beyond
Chateauroux.

Tweed asked the pilot to fly lower. First there were truck-
loads of infantry, armoured personnel carriers, motorcycle
outriders. Then they saw the endless columns of huge
mobile 155mm artillery. And ahead of the guns, also pro
ceeding up route N20, more endless columns of heavy tanks.
Raising his field-glasses, Tweed focused on the lead tank behind a swarm of motorcycle outriders.

General de Forge stood in the turret of his Le Clerc tank. Disdaining a helmet, he wore his kepi and slung round his neck was a pair of field-glasses. Spotting the Alouette, he raised his own glasses and Tweed had the oddest sensation
that they were staring at each other. Lowering the glasses,
de Forge gave a jaunty wave as his tank thundered on.

'He's now well north of the so-called exercise line,'

Tweed said coldly. 'The line he laid down. The exercise to be confined
south
of Chateauroux. And it is the N20. How on earth is he clearing the highway to give that army of steel through passage?'

'I've no doubt he'll find a way.' Rosewater replied. 'And
what was Brand doing in Arcachon? Waiting for the
Steel
Vulture?'

'That, yes. And he may have had another objective. We have not seen the last of him.'

Marler stood behind the pilot in the chopper flying south
over the N20. It was still daylight and a shaft of sunshine
like a searchlight had broken through the high overcast.

'Here they come.' said the pilot in French.

'To liberate Paris.' Marler replied cynically in the same
language.

Holding on to the back of the pilot's seat with one hand,
he raised his binoculars. A group of outriders had stopped at
an intersection. Behind them men were carrying signs from a
civilian truck. Through the lenses Marler read the signs.

Diversion. Do not miss! Army manoeuvres!

'De Forge is taking over highway N20.' Marler com
mented. 'Keep following it. He can't be far behind.'

'And the bastard is marching on Paris ...'

The pilot maintained the same low altitude. Marler was
watching the light. Soon it would be dusk, then dark. Which
would mean accomplishing his mission could turn out to be impossible. He raised his glasses, saw a clutch of outriders speeding up the highway. Behind them rolled the tanks.

Feet wide apart, bracing himself to keep steady, Marler
refocused his glasses. He couldn't believe it. The erect figure
of General de Forge was standing in the turret of the leading
Le Clerc tank. Marler lowered the glasses, scanned the
countryside. To the east of N20 a small hill rose. Mentally he checked the range.

'Can you land on that flat-topped hill?' he asked the pilot through the microphone slung below his headset.

'Perfect place to put down.'

'Don't stop the engine ...'

The machine swooped away from the highway in an arc. As it hit the summit Marler, who had taken off his headset,
grabbed his holdall, threw open the door, jumped to the ground, crouching below the whirling rotor. Running to a
rock embedded in the earth, he dropped flat, hauled out the Armalite, screwed on his sniperscope, perched the weapon
on the rock, adjusted the sniperscope when he had the
leading Le Clerc tank in his crosshairs.

De Forge had a sensitive instinct for danger. He watched the chopper land. He turned once again and waved on the
tanks coming up behind him with a confident gesture. He then gave the order to his gunner through his microphone.

'Target chopper just landed hilltop to the east. Fire when ready!'

The computer raced through its calculations at the speed of light. The huge barrel swivelled through ninety degrees. The elevation began lowering to bring it dead on target.

Marler pressed the trigger two seconds before the tank's
gun sent a shell hurtling towards the chopper. The special explosive bullet blasted the front of de Forge's skull clean away. His body sagged down on to the crew below, fountaining blood, splashing into the eyes of the gunner who
automatically pressed the button.

The shell curved a dozen feet above the chopper, landed
on a farmhouse, killing the farmer, his wife, and three
children, who were eating a meal.

Marler switched his aim, fired three times over the heads
of the outriders who had sat stunned on their machines. They leapt out of the saddles, gripped their automatic
weapons, began firing at random towards the chopper now
climbing rapidly off the hilltop.

Inside the tank there was panic. De Forge, a grisly sight,
was sprawled over them, still spraying blood. Five tanks
behind the stationary vehicle, unaware that their General
was dead, obeyed his last hand wave and trundled forward,
their caterpillar tracks clanking and grinding like some huge
stamping mill.

Immediately ahead was a copse of trees and behind them
drivers of petrol tankers held hoses, were drenching the
highway with petrol which spread like a lake. A farmer held
a
torch made of straw. He flung the burning brand, the
petrol lake ignited, the five advancing tanks rolled towards
a curtain of flame.

Confusion. Chaos. Tanks swivelling round, colliding with
each other in their desperate flight from the wall of fire.
Two tanks rumbled past either side of the tank where de
Forge lay, crashed headlong into three Le Clercs moving up
the highway. Soon the whole column ground to a halt,
zigzagged across the highway. An army without a leader,
without orders, with nowhere to go.