Swan raised an eyebrow. ‘I see. So, where was Mr Lempiere?’
Gruber shrugged. ‘I have no idea where he went. The next time I saw him, was in the efflux chamber, after Mr Powell had been discovered.’
At Gantry 2, Morris walked around the towered structure and looked up at Black Arrow above his head. Suddenly, he paused, looking at the servicing block next to the gantry. He had seen something move on the next level, and called out. ‘Mr Gruber. Is that you?’
After dismissing the German, Swan had asked the secretary to put out another announcement, this time for Jean Lempiere, and as her voice exhaled from the speakers, he ran down the hill, and seeing Morris climbing the steps of the lower servicing platform, called out to him. ‘Ian, wait!’
Morris didn’t hear him; the sound of the howling wind swirling around the bay, was also in his ears. Obliviously, he walked onto the platform, disappearing into the gantry block. On reaching the next level, Morris noticed a door half open, swinging gently in the sea breeze. He walked towards it, approaching slowly, and then carefully opened it. Inside, he saw that it was a small storage room with wood crates stacked in the corner. Convinced that the room was clear, he backed out and shut the door. He turned to ascend the stairs to the next level and was hit in the face, by a metal bucket.
Morris fell backwards, hitting his head on the storage room door; the impact dazing him. Despite this, he could still easily make out the man standing over him, staring at him inquisitively. Groggy from the blow, Morris suddenly heard Swan calling up to him from the lower platform, and cried out. ‘He’s up here, Alex!’
The man dropped the bucket and in panic, fled the scene.
Swan heard the cry from his colleague and with lightning reaction, hurled himself through the doorway and ran up the stairs. Morris was on the floor with his hand on his face, nursing his swollen jaw; the metal bucket was still rolling from side to side near his feet.
Swan crouched beside him, touching him on the shoulder. ‘Are you okay, Ian?’
Morris looked up at him. ‘I’m alright Alex. It was Lempiere, the Frenchman. He just caught me off balance. I think he went up the stairs.’
Jean Lempiere reached the next level and then ran along the sky walk, towards a closed door. At the door, he stopped, attempting to open it. Clutching the handle in frustration, he discovered it was locked. ‘Damn,’ he exclaimed. He ran back into the rocket’s servicing block only to see Swan directly in front of him, coming up the staircase.
With nowhere else to go, he went up to the other levels, now finding himself at the top of the gantry. The howling wind gusted through the girders supporting the gantry hoist, and Lempiere ran around the servicing platforms. The rocket was in the centre, down below.
Swan also reached the top, being instantly whipped by the wind, he saw the Frenchman on the far side and looked down at the white tip of the launch vehicle resting in the chasm.
Now trapped by the SID man, Lempiere walked backwards, leaning on the safety rail. He turned his head, looking for some means of escape. He could try to jump for the hanging hoist cables connecting the harness, which collared the top of the rocket, but soon discounted this as a foolish idea, fearing that he would not be able to make the leap. What other options did he have? He then turned to look over the side and stared down at the concrete efflux channel, jutting out underneath the exhaust flume.
Fleischer wanted him dead, that much was clear; his two executioners waiting for him to come to their gallows. He stared at the approaching man in front of him. What would, he do?
Watching the Frenchman, Swan tried to anticipate his possible moves, and a look of defeat in Lempiere’s face, soon gave Swan an idea of what this might be. ‘No, Jean. You don’t have to do that!’
Lempiere turned his head, looking Swan hard in the eyes, as he stood twenty feet in front of him. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Swan, I did not mean to harm Mr Powell. I don’t want to go to prison.’
Realising there was nowhere Lempiere could go, Swan ceased his advance. The wind was intense. Apart from the clanking of the gantry hoist in the apex above, this is all he could hear, as it whizzed around his head.
You may not have to. Help me stop, Merlin, and I assure you that I will do my best, to prevent you from going to prison.’ This was impossible, but in this fragile situation, Swan had to stay positive, and try to give this man some hope.
Lempiere thought for a few moments, as he looked down at the chalk white rocks again. Then, suddenly shocked at what he’d just heard, looked back at Swan in surprise. ‘How can you know about him?’
In the powerful torrent of moist sea air, Swan tried his best to explain, but had to shout to be heard. ‘I know everything, Jean. I know that you are a member of a neo-Nazi organisation, and this man Merlin, is your leader. Swan gestured to the rocket in the opening below. ‘He planned to use you to sabotage Black Arrow, which you almost got away with, had it not been for Kevin Powell.’
The Frenchman’s eyes widened, astonished in recognition at this man’s accurate conclusions.
Swan put out his hand. ‘Come, Jean. Let’s get down from here. Help me expose him and stop this madness.’ He kept his hand out to show his assurance, and Lempiere stared at it.
Swan slowly walked forward, prompting him again. ‘Help me, Jean? Help me stop this maniac? There’s also something else I need to know. Tell me what the eagle is, and how will it fall.’
Swan hoped he had done enough to coax his assailant, and for a few seconds, Lempiere looked as if he was thinking of giving himself up. Then he moved back against the rail; the turbulent wind from the Solent pounding his back.
He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Swan. I only know the eagle is a name of something. I do not know what it is, or what will become of it. I also cannot go through with this anymore. I am a dead man, whatever happens here. Fleischer wants me dead. I hope that you can stop him for me. Gunther Fleischer. He is Merlin, the leader of The Onyx Cross… Goodbye, Mr Swan.’ Lempiere held his stare, as he stepped backwards onto the rail, and allowing his weight to propel him through the space between the girders, flipped upside down.
All Swan could do, was watch in disbelief, as the Frenchman’s feet suddenly lifted off the ground, sending him over the rail. Lempiere plunged head first down the side of the metal structure, hitting the deadly jagged cliff face jutting out below.
Swan rushed over to the rail, helplessly staring down at the chasm of white rocks beneath the overhang of the gantry, and winced with remorse at Lempiere’s broken, lifeless body, as it half lay in the enveloping surf. Every few seconds, the foaming waves came in closer, eventually washing over the white suited figure.
From below, a police whistle blew three times, as two constables walking in the efflux channel, had seen a human shape fall from the tower.
Still looking at the body in the water, Swan shook his head. ‘For Christ’s sake man, you didn’t have to do this.’
He turned, seeing Morris staggering towards him. ‘What’s happened to Lempiere?’ Swan just looked at the rail, instantly giving Morris the answer to his enquiry. He walked over and looked down at the almost submerged, dead French fuel engineer. ‘Bloody Nora Alex! I heard what he said about this Onyx Cross, outfit. Who the hell are these people?’ First there’s Ruger, then Powell, and now his killer, has just committed suicide.’
‘Don’t forget the test pilot, Kappelman,’ Swan added.
Morris shook his head. ‘These guys have got to be stopped, Alex. Four men dead, within the last few days. Who the bloody hell’s next, I wonder?’