by Colin Forbes
'What's inside?' she whispered.
'Mix of high-explosive and firebomb. Got five of the devils, all told. Don't know why Tweed wants 'em.'
Paula stood up, disappeared back into the state room. Tweed, on the bridge alongside Marler, was puzzled.
'We're gliding over the sea as though it were a skat ing rink. But no engine sound.'
'Ben explained that,' Marler said, glancing at the com pass and turning the wheel a fraction. 'The genius who built this vessel installed a special engine. If you listen carefully it makes no more sound than the purring of a cat. Another reason Noak won't know we're coming. Besides radar they'll have listening posts, I'm sure.'
Half an hour later someone was kicking the far side of the door from the stateroom. Tweed opened it and a glorious aroma offish and chips entered his nostrils. Paula stood with a large plastic tray. It had depressions for servings and smaller ones for plastic cups of Evian water. As a matter of form she served the master of the ship first. Ben stared as though he couldn't believe it. Then, greedily, he grabbed a plate offish and chips and a cup of water.
' You. ' He gave her a great big toothy grin. 'You was windin' me up.'
'Shut up and eat,' she snapped back at him.
For a while there was no conversation on the bridge as they concentrated on eating. Paula had fetched her own meal on a separate tray. She whispered to Tweed, 'I haven't seen Bob Newman anywhere. Is he still in London?'
'No, he's one of my secret weapons,' Tweed whis pered back. 'By now Guile will think he has identified my whole team. You, me, Harry and Marler. He won't know about Newman, who stays at one of those houses to let up the High Street. Don't know which one, don't want to know. He's wearing country clothes, a wide-brimmed straw hat and sunglasses. He mooches around, posing as an architect with his nose in a book. But I'll bet he doesn't miss a thing.'
On the bridge by the wheel Ben had gripped Marler hard by the arm. He was peering ahead at a dark bulk with a red light shining high up. Noak Island.
'That's why I switched off all my lights,' Ben explained, 'but somehow they've spotted us.'
'Well, at least it was such a calm voyage,' Paula called out to introduce a note of optimism.
'Won't be if we ever return,' growled Ben. 'Forecast is for a real twister of a storm which should hit us halfway back.'
'I think I've entered the gap in the radar zone,' Marler said.
'You have,' Ben agreed. As he spoke there was an explosion to starboard.
'They know we're coming,' Tweed warned.
'No, they don't,' called out Ben. 'That was an old wartime mine deciding to welcome us. Never heard of one being this far out, though.'
They were close in to what appeared to be a giant chunk of rock. Ben turned on a searchlight and Tweed stared. He had expected another dangerous gulch entrance like the one at Seaward Cove they had left far behind. Instead in the glare of Ben's light was a wide harbour enclosed by high stone walls.
'This map is out of date,' Marler complained.
'Unless Neville Guile has blasted rock to create a favourable entrance for large vessels,' Tweed sug gested.
'Like that one over there just going under,' Paula called out, and pointed.
Well over to port, away from Noak and the explod ing mine, the hull of a large vessel which had turned turtle protruded briefly above the surface of the smooth sea. Tweed felt sure it was a huge tanker as it slid below the sea, leaving behind a small ripple of waves.
'That were a tanker going down,' Ben said. 'Big job. What's it doin' 'ere?'
'The tanker that pirates hijacked in the East,' Marler said with a flash of inspiration.
'I think you're right,' Tweed agreed. 'And no oil seeping out – because it was all pumped ashore first onto Noak. I don't like pirates but I'll bet their bodies, each with a bullet in the back of the head, are lying in the hold. After they'd helped pump the oil ashore. No witnesses is one of Neville Guise's rules of business. And look at that cliff.'
A monster of a black cliff sheered up from the har bour. By now Ben had brought Tiger alongside an inner wall of one of the stone jetties. He picked up a great coil of rope, threw it at Harry.
'Get ashore with that, tie it round one of those stone bollards, then make fast the stern. I'll be there with more rope.'
Harry jumped to his feet, grabbed the rope coil and followed Ben down a ladder from the bridge to the main deck. Leaping over the narrow gap onto the jetty, he wound lengths of rope round the stone bollard.
Paula had skipped down the ladder behind Ben. He placed a huge ugly-looking knife beside the rope on deck.
'What's the knife for?' she asked.
'Always curious, you ladies. If we have to run for it in a hurry, that knife can cut through the rope in sec onds. Now I'm off to the stern. That Harry doesn't waste time.'
Paula shinned back up the ladder onto the bridge. Tweed was adjusting the glare light up the side of the precipitous cliff. At intervals he paused briefly. Paula saw a series of thick large rubber loops attached to the rock.
'What on earth -' she began.
'They attach a thick hose inside those loops and use a system to suck up the oil from the tanker berthed about where the Tiger is now.' He looked back to where Harry had appeared. 'Leather climbing boots for everyone except Ben. We've got to get to the top of this brute.'
Harry produced the boots from his capacious bag. On the soles were hard projections for clinging to ledges. At a fresh order from Tweed, Harry took out a backpack, slipped inside the torpedo-shaped weapons he had shown Paula – the firebombs. They began climbing, Tweed in the lead.
It was a difficult climb. The cliff face was almost vertical. Paula went up quickly, but tested her weight on every protruding spike of rock before trusting it. Harry was close behind her. She was about to turn to say something to him when Tweed's sharp whisper reached her as though he'd sensed what she was about to do.
'Nobody look down. That's a direct order. Look up! '
She hauled herself over the top before she realized how close to the summit she was. She pulled herself up the final few feet and sat still for a moment, breathing heavily. She looked down as Harry scrambled over with Marler close behind. Her mind began to swim with vertigo so she turned to look inland, amazed at the view.
A shallow slope led down no more than a hundred feet. She was staring at four vast container tanks, their roofs slightly curved. Beyond, the ground climbed steeply but at the far end of the island a long runway was laid out. A large plane stood at the takeoff end.
'You see,' said Tweed, seated close to her with the others very near, 'refineries and oil storage tanks. Contents – from that pirated tanker. Worth millions. Over on the far coast you can see a smaller fleet of tankers flying the Otranto flag. Neville planned on selling oil he'd not paid a penny for – to desperate countries who'd pay $100 a barrel for the stuff. Harry, I want all four of those oil tanks destroyed.'
'No sooner said than done,' Harry replied. Til hike to the one furthest away.'
'Can I help you?' Paula suggested.
'Yes. By sitting there and not getting in my bloody way.'
They all knew he'd been deliberately rude to stop her coming with him on what could be a suicide mis sion.
'Maybe I -' began Marler.
'If you'll all shut your big mouths maybe I can con centrate,' Harry told them.
Then he was gone. Running, crouched, down the slope, he was about to pass the nearest tank. Then he saw the ladder curving up its side. It would give him height and he must now be near the more distant tank. He had his backpack turned to rest on his stom ach. Arriving at the top he was closer to all four oil tanks than he'd expected. He extracted the first explo sive firebomb.
Taking a deep breath he hurled it with all his strength at the most distant tank. His bomb landed dead centre on its curved surface. As he hurtled a fresh bomb at a nearer tank his first bomb detonated with a sinister crack. There was a dull explosion, then it blew apart, emanating a fireball. H
is second bomb was increasing the blinding blaze over the whole stor age area.
He ran down the ladder, already feeling the heat from the fire. Running back up the slope, he paused, hurled two more bombs, one for each nearer tank. Then he ran like hell up the slope to join the others, gazing with disbelief at the spectacle. The flames from all four tanks had now merged into one massive inferno.
Paula had her binoculars pressed against her eyes.
They were aimed at the long runway with the large plane at the take-off point.
'They're all running for it. They're flying out. Plane's on the move. Guile has taken fright.'
'Didn't know how many of us there were,' Marler explained. 'It could have been a whole army.'
'Time to return to the ship,' Tweed decided. He grunted. 'It will be trickier descending that cliff than it was coming up. Be very careful.'
'Piece of cake,' said Harry. 'I need all your water bottles
Paula was puzzled. She watched as he withdrew from his pack a familiar object: a rope knotted at close intervals she had used to rescue MacBlade from the vertical tunnel under Black Gorse Moor. Producing a thick towel from the pack, he soaked it in water. After kicking a tall thick rock spike on the summit to test its strength he wrapped the towel round it a number of times, then tied the end of the rope over the wet towel.
'Now no danger of the rope fraying as we go down,' he explained. 'Everyone wears the best gloves they've got to ease the strain of their descent. Paula first. Then Tweed, with Marler behind him. I'll follow you lot.'
Paula already had her gloves on. Before she approached the rope she glanced inland. The big plane which would have Neville Guile aboard was already cruising down the runway prior to take-off. Mr Guile was a survivor.
Peering over the rim of the precipice, she saw
Harry's rope had reached the bottom. She bent down, grasped the first knot, continued to descend, not look ing down. She used her feet to keep her body clear of the rock. Her feet suddenly touched the ground. She was startled at the speed of her descent. Looking up, she saw Tweed about to land beside her, then Marler. Finally, Harry seemed to descend like a trapeze artist.
'Get aboard the ship fast!' Tweed ordered.
Ben asked no questions, concentrating on backing his ship out of the harbour. Paula ran down the steps onto the foredeck. She looked up and Harry was watching her from an open window on the bridge. Gazing back to the base of the cliff, she stiffened. No guards? A massive North African had appeared, hold ing an automatic weapon. The huge figure was elevating the muzzle to sweep the bridge with one lethal burst of fire. He would kill them all, and he was grinning sadistically at the prospect of mass slaughter.
'Take this, Paula,' Harry yelled, almost falling from the window.
Reaching up, her gloved hand helped her to grasp the slippery surface. Switch forward – to red. She counted to three. While at school she had excelled at rounders. She hurled the missile, aiming for the large rock overhang he was sheltered beneath.
The firebomb detonated with such power it made the ship shudder. Paula had briefly closed her eyes against the brilliant flash, then opened them in time to see the immense tonnage of rock fall and bury the guard forever. She sighed with relief.
'Good shot,' Harry called down calmly. 'You get the prize.'
Tweed, who had witnessed the entire episode, had kept his mouth closed. He turned to Ben.
'Sea's like the proverbial millpond again. So a quiet voyage back to base.'
'Probably not,' Ben growled. 'Remember the fore cast. About halfway back we'll have to fight a huge tornado-like storm…'
NINETEEN
For more than half the return journey to Seaward Cove, the sea was so calm that again the Tiger seemed to glide over the surface. In the stateroom, Paula sat reading a shipping manual. On the couch opposite alongside the port side Tweed appeared to be fast asleep, eyes closed, head sunk on his chest. Paula was not deceived. She knew he was wide awake, ranging his mind over all that had happened in Hobartshire, listing the whole cast of the characters he had met, assessing them.
Marler appeared suddenly. He had been handling the wheel on the bridge, now briefly handed over to Ben.
'Sorry to interrupt,' he began. 'Better take a peek to the west.'
As he returned to the bridge the ship began to rock and sway from side to side. Tweed stood up as Paula ran to peer through a window on the starboard side. They stood together for a moment, staring at the transformation. The moon cast a pale glow over the approaching violence. The ferocious storm was heading for them.
Paula grabbed her life jacket, slung from a hook, slipped it over her head, fastened the tie round her waist. Tweed already had donned his own kit. Ben appeared at the top of the steps.
'Big trouble,' he growled. 'Life jackets on.'
He stopped speaking when he saw they both were already equipped. The swaying movement was now so pronounced Ben had to hold on to hand-rails to haul himself back up to the bridge. At the top he yelled back at them over his shoulder.
'It's a monster! '
'That's right,' Paula yelled back, 'cheer us up…'
Standing next to Tweed and, like him, hanging on to a hand-rail above the couch, she had to admit Ben's description was hardly exaggerated. She gazed in awe as mountainous waves, reminding her of pictures she'd seen of the Himalayas, swept down a few hun dred yards away. Massive waves collided with each other, sending up a smokescreen of surf concealing what was coming up behind them.
'The bridge,' Tweed snapped. 'Get up there now. I'll be behind you.'
It was a struggle to mount the staircase. Paula held tightly on to the same hand-rail. It was fortunate she'd taken this precaution. A mighty whackl told them a wave had hit the hull. As they reached the bridge Ben screamed at Marler manoeuvring the wheel.
'Don't let a wave hit us broadside on. We'll broach to -'
'Just shut up!' Marler shouted back.
Paula had every confidence in Marler's seamanship. On the rare occasions when he had time off he liked to sail off the south coast even in choppy weather. She glanced westward, sucked in her breath.
'A big one is coming,' she warned him.
'Thank you,' he said with a smile. 'I've just seen the brute.'
He was already turning the wheel and she thought she understood his tactics. He was going to ride the crest, use it to take them at speed nearer to home base. It was an odd sensation – to be carried forward by the power of the sea. It became very quiet suddenly.
She heard the sound of a large engine, looked up, gazed with disbelief at the huge plane descending towards them at speed, like the plane she'd seen taking off from Noak. It looked like an attack.
Harry had earlier adopted his usual position, crouched cross-legged in a corner of the deck. Now he leapt to his feet with binoculars hanging from a strap round his neck. Throwing open a window, he pressed the glasses briefly to his eyes. Then he shouted.
'Plane has one window open. Thug with an auto matic weapon. He's going to spray this bridge with bullets!'
He ran, splay-legged to counter the deck tilt, across to Ben.
'Give me a Very light. Damn quick! Red if possible, if not, any colour. Move!'
Ben was already moving. Throwing open a cup board door, he bent down, shoved his large hand inside. It emerged holding a metal object Paula only had a glimpse of. At one end of the squat instrument was a handle, at the other end a muzzle several inches in diameter. He passed it to Harry.
'It's red and loaded.' He told Harry. 'Specially made for me and other favoured customers by an engineer pal down the coast. Costs a small fortune.'
He was now speaking to Marler. Harry only heard the first few words. Once he had the Very light in his hand he rushed to the open window. The huge plane seemed only yards above them but that was an optical illusion.
Resting both arms on the ledge of the open window – for stability – Harry aimed the Very light at the plane's port engine. He pressed the trigger.
At that moment the Tiger rolled. The missile shot upwards, exploded in a blinding glare below the fuselage. Harry swore to himself but the explosion frightened the pilot. Had the Very been sucked inside the engine as it detonated the plane would have dived into the maelstrom.
Panicking, the pilot elevated his machine to a high altitude and flew off, heading for the coast. Paula sighed with relief. Tweed simply shrugged as he asked Ben the question.
'Ben, I presume that plane is flying off to land at Heathrow or London's City Airport?'
'Don't think so. My guess is it will land at the pri vate airfield about three miles east of the ridge overlooking Seaward Cove.'
'Not far away, then. Can you see this airfield from the ridge summit?'
'No,' Ben told him. 'It's hidden behind another ridge. Below my ridge there's a road to London and a turning off to this airfield. Funny thing. My ridge this side is as solid as Everest – but on the other side the surface is loose shale. One day it will break loose; send an avalanche down onto that road.'
'Tell me,' Tweed persisted, 'who owns the airfield?'
It was Marler who answered. He'd had a quiet stretch across a peculiar area of uncannily quiet water. More like a lake than the sea.
'It's owned,' he explained, 'by an obscure com pany with a strange name.' He looked at Paula. 'Excuse my Latin, which will make you wince. Name of company is Veni, Vidi, Vici…'
'You pronounced that very well,' said Paula, who had been good at Latin at school.
'What does it mean?' Tweed asked.
'It's the opening sentence of Julius Caesar's Gallic Wars,' she told him. Translated it means "I came. I saw. I conquered.'"
'Known for short as the VW Corp,' Marler added.
'Sounds like a good motto for our Mr Neville Guile,' Tweed commented.
'While you lot have been chattering,' Ben said in his fiercest growl, 'y ou might look at what's coming for us to starboard. Marler, like me to take over from you? Had a long stint.'
'It's OK, Ben,' Marler assured him. 'I'll take her into the cove.'
Secretly, Ben was relieved. Marler was the younger man. He had great strength in his arms and a quick reflex in turning the wheel. Knowing what was coming, Ben was doubly thankful as he joined Tweed and Paula, their hands gripping the handrail.
