But the drive into town was uneventful. The day was warm. The sky was beginning to clear in the east, and the wind had begun to calm down, although there were still large waves roaring onto the beach.
The hotel and Madame Leone's, next door, were on fire, smoke rising high into the afternoon sky. At least a hundred Orientals were gathered in the square in front of the burning buildings. As Carter came around the last curve into town, the crowd was shouting something, but he couldn't quite make it out. They spotted him almost immediately and came running to try to intercept him as he came around the lower road.
Carter sped up, pulled out his Luger, and fired a couple of shots over their heads.
The crowd fell back, and he was around the corner, past the square, and was soon screaming up the hill, expertly negotiating the switchback road. There did not seem to be anyone around, but there was a lot of debris littering the roadway. It was as if they had had a riot up here.
At the top he had to swerve to avoid a large wooden crate, but then he was around the last switchback and heading along the crest of the hill to the governor's compound.
The main gate was closed, but it was unmanned as far as Carter could see. Without reducing speed he ducked down as he hit the gate, slamming one side off its hinges, the jeep slewing first left, then right before he got it under control again.
There was a large Mercedes sedan and two small trucks parked just down from the house, but the helicopters were gone.
Nothing looked disturbed, nor did the house look abandoned. The French flag flew from the pole just down from the driveway at the front of the house.
Carter pulled up and jumped out of the car as a young Oriental woman came out onto the veranda. Carter took the stairs two at a time up to her.
"Governor Rondine is not here this afternoon, sir," she said.
"Where did he go?" Carter asked.
"I do not know, sir," the woman replied.
"I'll just wait in his study, then," Carter said, brushing past her and hurrying across the veranda. At the French doors he hesitated a moment as he watched the young woman's reflection in the glass. She pulled out a long knife from beneath her smock and silently charged.
At the last moment. Carter stepped aside, grabbed her wrist, and quickly twisted her arm. She dropped the knife with a little cry and stepped back as he let go.
He picked up the knife and tossed it over the railing. "Where did the governor and his wife go?" he demanded.
The woman was rubbing her wrist. She shook her head as she backed up. Suddenly she spun around and hurried across the veranda and down the stairs.
Carter pulled out Wilhelmina and entered the house. Two young Chinese boys stood in the entryway to the left. When they saw Carter they bolted up the stairs. A clock chimed somewhere, and he could hear music coming from upstairs.
He went through the living room and the dining room to the back of the house. To the left was the music room, beyond which was a small sitting room and then the kitchen. To the right was the hall that led to the back veranda. A set of double doors were closed.
He tried them. They were locked. He stepped back, brought up his Luger, and fired two shots into the lock, then kicked the doors open.
A Chinese man in a khaki uniform was seated at a radio set. He jumped up and spun around, a submachine gun in his hands.
Carter fired two shots, the first hitting the man in the chest, the second in his throat, blood splattering everywhere as he was thrown backward against the radio, his weapon clattering to the floor.
Carter kicked the gun aside, made sure the man was dead, then looked at the radio. Someone was calling. Deep in the static. It sounded like French, but Carter could not be sure.
A helicopter came in low over the house, then swung around to the east.
Carter went to the window and looked outside. He could hear the machine on the other side of the house. It sounded as if it was coming down for a landing.
He turned around. There were three Oriental men in khaki uniforms just outside the doorway. They each held a submachine gun pointed at Carter.
"You will please to put your weapon on the desk," one of them said, his English very bad.
Carter hesitated.
"Please. We do not want to kill you just yet, Mr. Carter."
Carter walked over to the desk and laid down his Luger, men he stepped away a few paces.
"That is very wise, Mr. Carter. Now, who is coming here in the helicopter? Is it your colleague from the spy satellite base?"
"He's a helicopter pilot, nothing more," Carter said. "Where is Governor Rondine?"
The man grinned. "Your submarine is a very long way from here now, Mr. Carter. You have done much damage to us, and now we will find out all about you and who you work for."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop by twenty degrees. Nevertheless Carter smiled.
"Yes," he said. "One of your submarines has been destroyed, your base ruined, and very soon your second submarine will be rendered useless as well. I don't suppose you'll get a promotion for this."
There was a commotion out in the corridor. It sounded to Carter like someone swearing in French. He glanced at his Luger on the desk, but the man who had been doing the talking raised his weapon a little higher.
"You will die if you try it."
One of the soldiers was shoved aside, and a large, burly man barreled his way into the room. He looked at Carter.
"That's him," he said in French.
"What are you doing here?" the Chinese man asked in French.
"I've got my orders. The governor wants him," the big man said. He turned back to Carter. He carried a large Beretta automatic. "You will come with me voluntarily, or I shall kneecap you, Monsieur Carter. Do you understand?" he asked in English.
Carter nodded. It had been he who had arrived in the helicopter, not Tieggs. Carter shrugged. "I don't have much of a choice."
"No," the Frenchman said. He stepped away from the doorway and motioned Carter outside.
They went back through the dining room and living room, out onto the veranda, and down to the driveway. A large French military helicopter was parked just beyond the flagpole. Two men waited by it.
The three Chinese men had come out of the house, but they remained up on the veranda. Carter looked back at them. There was some kind of a power struggle going on here. But at the moment he could not see how he could turn it to his advantage. The Frenchman he was with was definitely a pro.
They marched across the driveway to the helicopter, and Carter was directed to climb into the rear compartment, where he was manacled to one of the seat supports after he had strapped in.
The Frenchman who had brought him down from the house went back up to the veranda to speak with the Chinese soldiers. The other two Frenchmen climbed into the helicopter, one of them at the controls, and he started the engine.
A minute later the other one came back, climbed in. and without a word they lifted off.
Almost immediately the pilot stiffened. "We have company," he said in French. "Looks like a small helicopter."
They swung around and headed toward town as Tieggs, in the smaller helicopter, swung past them from the left.
Carter's captor turned back to him. "Who is in the machine?"
"It's no one. Just a pilot from the base."
The man turned back. "Shoot him down," he said calmly.
"No!" Carter shouted, sitting forward.
They swung around, the pilot expertly bringing them up behind Tieggs.
"You bastards!" Carter shouted. "He's done nothing to you!"
The Frenchman turned back with his Beretta and jammed the barrel into Carter's face. "I will blow your head off, monsieur, if you are not quiet."
The French pilot was doing something with what looked like a weapons tracking and locking system. Out ahead, Tieggs apparently understood he was in trouble, because he was taking evasive actions.