Exocet

Harry Fox sat by the window reading a newspaper. Villiers stood looking at him. 'Anything interesting?'

'Not really.' Fox put the newspaper down. 'The push from San Carlos is expected at any minute.'

Villiers tossed his bag on to the bed. 'All right, Harry, what's it all about. Last time I saw Ferguson I told him to lay off Gabrielle, so what's his game?'

'You won't like it, Tony.'

Villiers said to Jackson, 'Get us all a drink, Harvey, I think I'm going to need it.' He turned back to Fox. 'Okay, let's have it.'

* * *

At Maison Blanche, the old gypsy, Maurice Gaubert, and his son, Paul, were setting traps for rabbits in the wood above the house when a truck turned into the stable yard below and braked to a halt. As the Gauberts watched, a number of men got out and a couple who had stayed inside started to pass out various items of equipment. Stavrou got out of the driving cab and unlocked the main stable doors.

Paul Gaubert said, 'It's Monsieur Donner's man. The one with the funny name.'

'The only funny thing about him,' his father said. 'Stavrou.' He dropped the traps he was holding and picked up his shot gun. 'We'll go and see what this is all about.'

Stavrou was just coming out of the stables as they approached. He lit a cigarette, leaned against the truck and waited.

'Bonjour, Monsieur,' Maurice Gaubert said. 'Rather more of you this time.'

'That's right.'

'And Monsieur Donner, he comes also?'

'Probably tomorrow.'

Paul Gaubert shifted nervously from one foot to the other under Stavrou's grim stare. His father said, 'Is there anything you wish us to do, Monsieur?'

'Keep an eye out for any strangers.' Stavrou took a couple of thousand franc notes from his wallet and held them up. 'You understand me?'

'Perfectly, Monsieur.' Gaubert took the money. 'Your business is, after all, your own business. If anything unusual occurs, I will let you know.'

Stavrou watched them go, then turned into the stables where his men were sorting the supplies which had been unloaded from the truck.

'All right, line up,' he said. 'At the double.'

They ran to obey his command and a moment later, stood in line, rigidly at attention. He paced up and down, looking them over.

'As far as I'm concerned, you're back in the army now, so the sooner you get used to that idea, the better.'

* * *

Corwin had supplied a Citroen car, and when it pulled up outside Gabrielle's apartment in the Avenue Victor Hugo later that evening, Jackson was at the wheel, Harry Fox and Villiers in the rear.

'So that's it,' Fox said. 'At least you know the score now.'

'So it would seem.'

'One other thing. This Professor Bernard I mentioned. They're still phoning him from Buenos Aires for technical information on various aspects of the Exocets they've got left, which can't be many. Our people in B.A. monitored two calls last night.'

'That's not so good,' Villiers said.

'I know. Brigadier Ferguson feels it can't be allowed to continue. In the circumstances, he'd like you to take care of it while you're here.'

'All right,' Villiers said without emotion.

'Good. Now if the sergeant major wouldn't mind running me out to Charles de Gaulle airport, I'll just have time to catch the last shuttle to London.'

'All right, Harvey. You take care of Captain Fox,' Villiers said. 'Don't bother to pick me up. I'll walk back. See you later.'

He got out and as he started away Fox half-opened the door. 'Tony.'

Villiers turned. 'What is it?'

'Go easy on her.'

Villiers stood there looking at him, face quite blank, hands in pockets, then he turned and went into the entrance without another word.

* * *

'You're looking well,' he said.

She was standing by the fire, gas logs flickering brightly on the hearth, and wore a black silk jump suit, her feet bare, hair tied back from the face.

'So are you. What was it like down there?'

'Rather like the Scottish Highlands on a bad day.' He laughed harshly. 'As far as I'm concerned, the Argentinians can have it. North Falkland has very little to commend it. I'd rather take Armagh or the Oman any day.'

'So what's it all about then?' she demanded. 'What are we all playing at, Tony?'

Suddenly, there was an intimacy again, a warmth. Not love, not in the strict sense of that word, but something between them that she knew always would be there. Would never go away till the day she died.

'Games, my love.' Villiers walked to the sideboard and poured himself a brandy. 'That's what we're playing at every level from the Prime Minister, Galtieri and Reagan downwards.'

'And you, Tony, what kind of game have you been playing all these years? The Death-wish game?'

He smiled slightly. 'God help me, Gabrielle, but don't you think I haven't looked for an answer to that question a thousand times?'

She frowned, as if trying to get it straight in her own mind, and sat down. 'You see, Tony, in the end, do we control the game or does the game possess us? Can we stop it if we want or must it always be the same?'

He had never felt closer to her. He sat down opposite, that intimacy between them again.

'Montera — you love him, don't you?'

'He's the one thoroughly decent thing that ever happened to me,' she said simply.

'Do you think you can go through with this?'

'I hope so. I don't really have much choice, Ferguson made sure of that.'

'One of these days I intend to run him down with a rather large truck,' he told her. She smiled and he took her hands. 'That's better. Now, let's discuss how you and Montera are going to get together again.'

'And just how do you intend to arrange that?'

'Simple. Corwin tells me he saw Montera running in the Bois de Boulogne yesterday morning.'

'So?'

'He apparently runs extremely well, which would indicate that he's in regular practice and only fanatics turn out in the pouring rain, the kind who refuse to miss a day's training. My hunch is he'll be there tomorrow.'

'And what about me?'

'You can go riding again. Let me explain.'

When he was finished she smiled reluctantly. 'You always were inventive, Tony.'

'In some things.' He stood up. 'Anyway, I'll be keeping an eye on you. Don't bother to get up. I'll let myself out.'

He hesitated and then reached for her hand. She held on tight and when she looked up, her face was tragic.

'I love him, Tony, isn't that the strangest thing? Just like everything I ever read about in the story books and poetry. Love at first sight. Total possession, so that I can't get him out of my mind.'

'I understand.'

'And now,' she said. 'I'm destroying that love as surely as I possibly can by my actions and I've no choice.' There were tears in her eyes. 'Wouldn't you say that was rather ironic?'

He had no answer, of course, none at all, only a terrible rage deep inside, against himself and Ferguson and the world they inhabited. He kissed her gently on the forehead, turned and let himself out quietly.

11

It was raining again the following morning as Gabrielle took the horse forward to the edge of the trees and waited as Villiers had instructed her. It was very quiet, only the sound of rain hissing through the branches. There was an air of unreality to everything and she was conscious of that strange sensation again of being an observer watching herself as in a dream.

Then far below from the trees beside the lake, a figure in a black tracksuit emerged and started to run up the hill. Raul. She recognised him instantly, watched for a few moments as she had been told and then kneed the horse forward.

There was a movement somewhere on her right and two men came out of the trees. One of them was bearded and wore a reefer coat. The other was younger with long yellow hair in jeans and a patched denim jacket. And they were trouble, she knew that instantly.