Exocet (v5) (16 page)

And then Gabrielle appeared, crossing the terrace and starting across the lawn into the trees. He followed her with his fieldglasses, losing her once or twice. She finally emerged by a small lake and followed a path round it towards a ruined summerhouse on the other side.

Villiers' practised eye detected a movement in the trees above the lake. He focussed his glasses as a figure emerged from the bushes in patched jeans, long hair hanging beneath a tweed cap, a shotgun under his arm. He went after Gabrielle, keeping out of sight. Villiers got to his feet and ran down through the trees.

* * *

Gabrielle pushed open the broken door of the summerhouse and stepped inside. There was a wooden table, a couple of chairs, a stone fireplace. Various panes of glass were missing in the windows, the floor damp where rain had drifted in. There was a step behind her and she turned.

The young man who stood there was of medium height with a weak, sullen face. He badly needed a shave. His clothes were too large for him and his hair poked untidily from beneath the cap. He held a double-barrelled shotgun in both hands.

'What do you want?' she said.

He ran a hand across his mouth, his eyes glittering as they looked her over. 'Oh, no. That's what I ask you. I'm supposed to guard this estate.'

'I see.' She leaned back on the table. 'What's your name?'

He grinned. 'That's more friendly. It's Paul. Paul Gaubert.'

She brushed past him and went outside. 'Heh, come here,' he called, as he ran after her and caught her by the right arm.

She said, 'Don't be stupid. I'm a guest of Monsieur Donner's.'

She pulled her arm free and sent him away with a vigorous shove of both hands. He staggered back for a moment, gaping in astonishment and, suddenly, there was only anger there. He dropped the shotgun and grabbed at her and she put her knee into his groin.

Donner and Montera came over the top of the small hill above the lake in time to witness the whole scene, including the timely arrival of Villiers, although at that distance they could not see the cold fury in his eyes as one hand fastened on Paul Gaubert's collar, the other on his belt. Villiers turned him round and ran him headfirst into the lake. The boy went under, came up gasping out of the shallows and up the bank.

'Gaubert!' Donner cried as he ran down the hill with Montera.

The youth glanced over his shoulder, a look of terror on his face, and took to his heels.

Villiers said to Gabrielle. 'Are you all right?'

'Fine,' she said, 'but could we change the script? This sort of thing's beginning to get a trifle monotonous. And watch yourself, we've got company.'

'I'm an Irishman on holiday staying at a bungalow not far from here. Michael O'Hagan.'

The Irish situation had forced the SAS to develop a language laboratory system teaching regional Irish accents to their men. Villiers could sound as if he'd been born and bred within five miles of Crossmaglen and Michael O'Hagan was an alias he had used before.

Montera arrived on the run, full of concern. 'Gabrielle, are you all right?'

'Yes, thanks to this gentleman.'

'O'Hagan,' Villiers said cheerfully in English. 'Michael O'Hagan.'

'I want to thank you, sir.' Donner took his hand. 'Felix Donner. This is my place, by the way, and this is Mr Montera and the lady you rescued is Miss Legrand. The creature who attacked Miss Legrand is a gipsy called Gaubert. I allowed a band of them to stay on the estate, which shows what happens when you treat people like that as human beings.'

'Happy to know you,' Villiers said.

'Just where did you come from exactly, Mr O'Hagan?'

'Just up there where the trees flank the road.' Villiers pointed. 'I was looking at the map, trying to get my bearings when I saw that character obviously trailing Miss Legrand. The rest, as they say, you know.'

'We certainly do. You're staying near here?'

There was little point in trying to pretend otherwise. Villiers said, 'At a little bungalow up the road with a friend. We're on a motoring tour of Brittany.'

He had tried to sound simple, open and ingenuous, and appeared to have succeeded. Donner said, 'Come back and have a drink with us.'

Villiers said, 'That's very nice of you, but perhaps some other time. I'm already later than I said I would be.'

Donner persisted. 'Join us for dinner tonight, then. Bring your friend.'

'I don't really have any decent clothes with me,' Villiers said, keeping up the image.

'Doesn't matter. All totally informal. Bring your friend.'

'All right. I can't speak for him though. He might have other plans.'

'Seven-thirty for eight.'

Villiers turned and walked briskly away. Montera said, 'Lucky he was around.'

'Yes, wasn't it?' Donner replied, frowning slightly.

* * *

At the bungalow, Villiers shaved and had a shower. When he went into the kitchen he was wearing slacks, a dark shirt and a tweed jacket. He had a Walter PPK in one hand and a roll of surgical tape in the other. He put his left foot on a chair, pulled up his trouser leg and taped the weapon just above the ankle.

'Daniel in the lion's den?' Jackson commented.

'Well, you never know. Comforting to have an ace in the hole. I'll see you later. Be good.'

He went out, got into the Citroen and drove away. Jackson poured himself another cup of coffee and reached over to switch on the radio. There was a sudden cool breeze on the back of his neck as if a door had opened. He turned quickly and Yanni Stavrou stepped in, a gun in one hand, two of Roux's recruits standing behind him.

* * *

Beyond the French windows the beech trees above the lawn were cut out of black cardboard against a sky that was touched with vivid orange. Inside it was warm and comfortable.

Gabrielle wore her yellow jump suit; Montera, jeans and a blue flannel shirt. Donner's concession to informality was to wear a mohair pullover instead of a jacket.

He glanced out of one of the French windows before closing it. 'We could have weather trouble tomorrow.'

'Let's hope not,' Montera replied. 'That was an excellent dinner, by the way.'

'That's Wanda's department, not mine. She does all right when she tries.'

The condescension was plain. Gabrielle said, 'It was more than all right. It was superb. I'd say she has real flair.'

'Don't tell her that, for God's sake. She won't be fit to live with.'

Wanda entered at that moment with a tray. She was the most dressed-up person there and wore a two piece trouser evening suit in black velvet.

She'd brought tea for Montera and Gabrielle. Donner said, 'You are trying, aren't you, but what about Mr O'Hagan here? All Irishmen drink tea, isn't that true, O'Hagan?'

'Oh, I don't know,' Villiers said brightly. 'I like a cup of coffee myself.'

The girl's hand was shaking as she passed him the cup and Gabrielle, angry again, turned to Montera. 'I feel like a little air. Shall we take a walk?'

'Why not?'

He opened a French window and they went out.

Donner said, 'A handsome couple, wouldn't you say?'

Villiers managed to look mildly surprised. 'Yes, I suppose so.'

'Tell me, what do you do for a living, Mr O'Hagan?'

'I'm a sales engineer. Oil pumps, mainly.'

'That must be a good line these days, what with North Sea oil.'

'Oh, yes.' Villiers glanced at his watch. 'It's really been wonderful, but I'm afraid I'll have to be going. We have an early start tomorrow.'

'What a shame. Still, it's been nice having you.' Donner walked through to the front door with him and opened it. 'I'd like to thank you again for what you did. I sent my man Stavrou along to sort that gypsy out earlier this evening, but by the time he'd reached the encampment, they'd all cleared off.'

They shook hands and Villiers went down the steps. Donner went back to the sitting room.

Wanda said, 'Can I get you anything?'

'No,' he said. 'Go to bed.'

'But it's early, Felix.'

He shook his head. 'You never learn, do you?' He ran the back of his hand down her face and she shrank back as if expecting a blow. 'That's right,' he said. 'Do as you're told and go to bed.'

Stavrou came into the room as Wanda went out. Donner asked, 'Is the car ready?'

'Yes.'

Donner went to the open French window. He could see the glowing end of Montera's cigarette on the other side of the lawn where he and Gabrielle talked.

'Heh, you two. I've got to go out for a little while. Help yourself to drinks, okay?' He turned back into the room, said to Stavrou, 'All right, let's get moving,' and led the Way out quickly.

* * *

Montera smoked his cigarette and leaned on the balustrade beside her. 'I seem to have done nothing but talk about my mother and my daughter. You must be bored.'

'But they're part of you, Raul. I want to know these things. They're important.'

'Yes,' he said. 'Life is nothing without roots, that's true, isn't it? We all need a place to rest our heads from time to time. A place where we can be certain of perfect understanding.'

'I wish to God there was such a place for me,' she said and there was a poignancy in her voice that went straight to his heart.

He said, 'But there is, my love. Tomorrow I fly back to the Argentine direct from here.'

'But I don't understand.'

'From Lancy. There's a plane putting down with war supplies. A Hercules transport. You could come with me.'

And she could, that was the truth of it. It would be so easy. At that moment, she was closer to telling him the truth than she had ever been.

* * *

When Villiers went in the front door of the bungalow he called, 'Harvey, where are you?'

There was no reply, but a radio sounded faintly and rather eerily from somewhere at the back of the house. Strangely enough he recognised it. A nostalgic record. Al Bowlly, the famous crooner of the thirties, singing
Moonlight on the Highway.

The bedroom door stood ajar and Villiers paused on the threshold. Jackson sat at a table on the opposite side of the bed, a small radio playing beside him.

'Heh, Harvey,' Villiers said. 'What in the hell are you up to?'

And then he moved close enough to see that Jackson was tied to the chair. His cheeks were badly blistered, probably from repeated applications of a cigarette lighter flame. There was a bullet wound just above his right ear, small calibre as there was no exit wound, and the sightless eyes stared into the wall.

Villiers slumped down on the bed and sat there looking at him. Aden, the Oman, Borneo, Ireland. So much action, so much dying and Harvey Jackson always the indestructable one. And to go this way, at the end of things.

The door slammed against the wall behind him. His hand was already groping for the butt of the Walther as he turned and found Stavrou and two armed men facing him.

'A tough bastard,' Stavrou said. 'I couldn't get a thing out of him.'

'Yes, you train them well in the SAS, Major Villiers,' Felix Donner said. 'I'll give you that.'

* * *

Montera and Gabrielle were sitting by the fire talking together in low voices when the door opened and Donner entered. He closed it and came and stood with his back to the fire.

'This is nice. Damned cold out tonight.'

'Have you been far?' Montera asked politely.

'Far enough. You see I had a phone call early this evening from a friend in Paris. He'd been doing some checking for me on your girlfriend here.'

'What in the hell are you talking about?' Montera said angrily.

'Yes, Mademoiselle Legrand, or would you prefer Mrs Gabrielle Villiers, or didn't you know she was married?'

'Divorced,' Montera said. 'Your information would appear to be hugely out of date.'

Gabrielle sat frozen, waiting for the axe to fall. Donner said, 'Yes, but who was Mr Villiers, or should I say Major Villiers? Quite a man. Grenadier Guards and 22 SAS, would you believe? When my friend read his description to me over the phone a lot of interesting little pieces fell into place.'

He crossed to the door and opened it, and Stavrou pushed his prisoner through. 'Colonel Raul Montera, meet Major Anthony Villiers. I'd say you two have got a hell of a lot in common.'

14

Two of Roux's men stood against the wall holding Armalite rifles. Stavrou gave Villiers another push further into the room and tossed the Walther PPK across to Donner who caught it neatly.

'Found that strapped to his leg above the ankle.'

Donner turned to Montera. 'You see, a real pro. Of course, you do realise, colonel, that this raises a very big question as to sweet Gabrielle's role in this whole affair. I get the feeling she's not been strictly honest with you. I mean, the only possible explanation is that she's working hard for the other side.'

Montera said to her calmly, 'Is it true?'

'Yes,' she said.

'Holy Mother!' he said. 'I see it all now. It started in London, didn't it? Everything so convenient. And then Paris and the Bois.'

Her eyes were hot, burning. She wanted to speak and couldn't. She stood there staring at him. She opened her mouth, but no sound came.

It was Villiers who spoke for her. 'Try and understand, Montera. She has a half-brother, a helicopter pilot, killed flying off Stanley.'

Her nails were digging into the palms of her hands with the strength of her emotion. She started to shake and Raul Montera did a marvellous thing. He reached for the hands and held them tight, pulling her to her feet.

'It's all right,' he said. 'Be still.' He spoke as if they were alone and put an arm around her shoulders.

Donner said, 'My God, this really is cruelty to dumb animals.' He crossed the room and flung open a green baize door. 'In there, colonel. Make your peace or do whatever you have to. I want words with the gallant major here anyway.'

* * *

In Paris, Nikolai Belov was just about to retire for the night when the phone rang. Irana took the call.

'It's Donner for you,' she said.

Belov took the phone from her. 'How are things going?'

'More than interesting. Listen to this.' Donner gave him a quick run-down on the evening's events. When he was finished, he said, 'Have you done the usual search procedure on this one with your friends in French Intelligence?'

Although the scandal of the Sapphire affairs had rooted out most KGB infiltration of the French Intelligence system, Belov still had agents in important positions there.

'We've run a most thorough check and it's right up to the minute. I only received the final report an hour ago. I'd intended phoning you in the morning. Not even a hint of your activities at any level in the system. No one waiting for you, no traps.'

'But British Intelligence have certainly been on the ball. I wonder how.'

'Surely the woman's involvement and her interest in Montera answers that. Montera was the link. She met him in London and then, by chance apparently, in Paris. But no accident at all, as we now see, and the time scale is such that it can only mean British Intelligence were expecting him to turn up. If we've been blown I would say it's occurred at the Argentine end and nowhere else.'

'That makes sense.'

'You still intend to proceed?'

'No reason not to.'

'Fine, is there anything I can do for you?'

'Yes, as a matter of fact there is. I think it's time for a holiday back home in case there are any repercussions on this one. The Chieftain can make Finland with no problem. Can you recommend a suitable airfield to land at there?'

'Certainly. Perind. We use it frequently. I'll see that arrangements are made for onward transportation. By the way, a news item of interest tonight. Professor Paul Bernard was discovered in a warehouse by the Seine shot through the head.'

'Is that a fact? Any juicy details?'

'The police are pursuing their enquiries. You know how it is?'

'I certainly do. I'll be in touch.'

Belov put down the phone and sat there on the edge of the bed thinking. Irana said, 'What is it?'

He smiled and held her hand. 'I haven't taken any leave this year and neither have you. How would you like a trip to Moscow?'

'When?' she said.

'No time like the present. We could catch the Aeroflot flight at seven a.m.'

'I see. You have a bad feeling about this business?'

'Just a twinge and I'm too old to take chances.' He smiled again. 'You better phone through now and get the seats.'

* * *

The room into which Donner had pushed Montera and Gabrielle was a kind of butler's pantry and wine store and the window was heavily barred. She sat on a box and Montera lit a cigarette and waited.

She took a deep breath and looked up at him. 'Can I tell you about it?'

'That might be a good idea.'

'Tony and I were married for five years. We were divorced six months ago. Everything else I told you about myself is true. I missed out the fact that my mother is English and that she married again when I was quite small - an Englishman.'

'Which explains the half-brother.'

'Yes. I've worked in journalism as I told you, but I happen to have a gift for languages. I just soak them up. Always did, even as a child. Tony was frequently called upon to work with Group Four, that's the section of British Intelligence that deals with anti-terrorism. Brigadier Ferguson, who runs it, approached me to work for them on a number of occasions. Nothing very heavy. Mainly because of my language ability.'

'And I was one of these occasions?'

'Yes,' she said flatly. 'I was to try and find out if there was going to be any move against the Falklands.'

He laughed out loud. 'My God, I didn't know the first thing about it.' He shook his head. 'Serendipity again. The happiest of unlooked for events.'

'That's where it all went wrong,' she said. 'I didn't know what love was and then I looked across the room at the Argentine Embassy and saw you.'

'Yes, it was a rather splendid moment.'

'And I couldn't get you out of my mind. Worried like hell about you when the war started, even though I'd no idea you were flying. And then this damned Exocet business started and Ferguson sent for me. You were the enemy, he said.'

'And he was right.'

'I was going to stop, just couldn't go on with the lies and the deceit after you gave me the ring.'

'And then you heard about your brother?'

'I want it to stop, Raul,' she said simply. 'The killing on both sides. For all our sakes. If you take those Exocets back to the Argentine tomorrow, it simply means more bloodshed.'

He sighed heavily and shook his head. 'My side is losing, Gabrielle. Maybe the Exocet is all we've got left. What do you want me to do? I'm an Argentinian. Your Brigadier Ferguson is right. I
am
the enemy.'

She got up and moved to his side, and he slipped an arm around her waist.

'I'm tired, Raul, so tired. All I know for certain any more is that I love you.'

Her head dropped on his shoulder, he kissed the golden hair and said nothing.

* * *

'What happens now?' Villiers asked, when Donner came back into the sitting room. 'More fun with cigarette lighters?'

'No need,' Donner told him. 'My sources in Paris have given me every assurance that I can proceed as planned. Were you responsible for seeing off poor old Paul Bernard, by the way?'

'Who's he?' Villiers asked.

'Yes, I thought so.' Donner smiled. 'What did he tell you? Convoys on the road to St Martin? An ambush at dawn? Fairy stories for children, I assure you. I've something far better in mind.' He poured himself a whisky. 'And I wouldn't dream of damaging you at this stage of the game, major. They'll want you intact at KGB headquarters in Moscow. What a mine of information you'll be, and don't tell me you won't talk. They have some remarkable drugs these days.' He nodded to Stavrou. 'Let's have the others back in here'

Stavrou opened the door of the butler's pantry, and after a moment Montera and Gabrielle stepped out.

Montera said, 'What do you intend to do with them?'

'More to the point is what I intend to do with you, Colonel?'

There was silence. Montera waited, very calm. 'Yes, I should have known there was more to this thing.'

'Indeed there is. Major Villiers believed I would obtain Exocets for you by ambushing an Aerospatiale convoy on the way to St Martin tomorrow. The missiles are transhipped from there regularly to Ile de Roc off the coast which is a testing site.'

'So?'

'And
you
are expecting a Hercules transport from Italy to touch down in the morning at Lancy with ten Exocets on board, courtesy of Colonel Qadhafi and the Libyans.' He smiled. 'Both wrong.'

He crossed to a door in the far corner, opened it and disappeared. He was back in a moment, putting on a French Army officer's tunic.

'Good fit, isn't it?' he said, as he buttoned it up. 'Allow me to introduce myself. Captain Henri Leclerc in charge of a detachment of nine men from the 23rd Guided Missile Regiment, proceeding by road, tomorrow morning, to St Martin where a tank landing craft will be waiting to take them across to Ile de Roc.'

Villiers said. 'Let me guess. They won't even get as far as St Martin. You've going to work a switch?'

'Let's say we'll divert them to here and take over.'

'And then proceed to Ile de Roc?'

'There are only thirty-eight men on the island. I don't think we'll have much trouble. The gentlemen I've been keeping in the stables are very good at handling that sort of thing.'

'And you simply take the Exocets you need from their testing stock? You'll never get away with it.'

'Why not? Once we take over, all we need is a couple of hours. On the right signal, a deep sea trawler comes in and takes off the missiles and the men. She sails under the Panamanian flag, by the way. Once out to sea she's just one more trawler, amongst the hundreds that fish those waters from every country in Europe.'

Villiers, searching for a flaw, said, 'There's bound to be a standard checking procedure between French Army Guided Weapon H.Q. and outstations. If they get radio silence from Ile de Roc they'll want to know why.'

'But they won't.' Donner was enjoying himself. 'We'll maintain essential radio contact. I've got an ex-Army Signals man on my staff for that very purpose. Another thing, emergency procedures don't come into operation until they've experienced radio silence for three hours. That gives us plenty of time.'

And Raul Montera, who had listened to all this without speaking, his face hardening, said, 'But this won't do and you know it.'

'That's true. World reaction to such an action by the Argentinian government will be one of horror. One can imagine the row in the United Nations, and God knows what the French will do.'

'But this is not the action of the Argentinian government,' Montera said.

'Of course not, but as long as it appears to be, it's the same thing, and when the body of one of the Argentine's greatest air aces is discovered after we're gone, that should clinch things nicely. Accidents will happen, stray bullets and soon.'

He poured himself another drink. 'Why did you think I was so insistent on your government sending me someone like you in the first place?'

Montera was perfectly under control. 'Why go to all this trouble?'

'Simple. You've lost the war already, my friend. If you had heard the news tonight, you would know that British paratroopers have won an astonishing victory at a place called Goose Green. The rest of their forces have started the long march to Port Stanley. I regret to say it, but they are the best trained soldiers in the world. Galtieri made a mistake. His government will fall anyway, but a scandal of the proportion I envisage will blow the Argentine apart.'

'Fear, chaos and uncertainty,' Villiers said. 'The classic situation for your kind of takeover.'

'Let's put it this way. The idea of units of the Russian fleet being able to operate in the South Atlantic from bases of a friendly power is certainly an intriguing one.'

Gabrielle said, 'You really are quite something, aren't you?'

'I told you I'd grow on you.'

'And what happens afterwards?' Villiers asked.

'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.'