Exocet

'Yes.'

'He used to pray to the Virgin on his knees, just before going into the bullring. Save me from the horns of the beasts, he used to say. I've gone to the horns many times during the past few weeks.'

'Why, Raul? Why?'

'Because it's what I do. I fly. It's also what I am, and down there, there was no choice. Could I sit at a desk while those boys went to hell on their own? You know what we called Falkland Sound? Death Valley.'

His eyes were fixed, the skin stretched tightly over the cheekbones. 'In the bullring, they have a red door — the door the bulls come through. It's called the Gate of Fear. Death comes through that gate, Gabrielle, a black beast who is dedicated to the idea of killing me. When I flew to San Carlos, the only thing which kept that door closed was you. Once at one of my worst moments, when she wouldn't respond to the controls, I was getting ready to eject when I swear I smelt that Opium perfume you use. Crazy, perhaps, but it was as if you were with me.'

'What happened?'

All strain went out of him. 'I'm here, aren't I?' He smiled. 'I should have had a photo in the cockpit and written underneath the words: "I'm Gabrielle — Fly me". You can give me one to take back.'

'Take back?' She was shocked. 'You're not going back down there to fly again?'

He shrugged evasively. 'I'll be here for a few days more. I don't know what happens when I return.'

'What are you doing here?'

'Business for my government.' In a way, he was telling her the truth. 'The arms embargo which the French imposed is giving us problems. But enough of that. What about you?'

'I'm doing a series for Paris Match.'

'Supported by that estimable father of yours?'

'Of course.'

'Yes. A Degas on one wall, a Monet on the other.'

She slid on to her knees and kissed him on the mouth very, very softly, her tongue savouring him. 'I'd forgotten just how gorgeous you are.'

'That word again,' he mocked her. 'Can't you think of something else?'

'Not right now, but take me to bed and I'll try.'

* * *

Later, lying there in the half-light, the curtains partly drawn, she leaned on an elbow and watched him as he slept. His face tightened, there was pain there, he groaned and suddenly there was sweat on his forehead and he opened his eyes, wide, staring.

She smoothed back his hair from his forehead and kissed him, gently, like a child. 'It's all right. I'm here.'

He smiled weakly. 'I had the dream again. I've had it so often. Remember, I told you, that time at your flat in London.'

'An eagle descending,' she said.

'That's right, coming down hard, claws reaching.'

'Well just remember what I told you. Drop your flaps. Eagles overshoot too.'

He pulled her close, kissed her neck. 'God, you smell good. Warm, womanly — or am I being sexist in saying that? I'm never too sure of my position with you feminists.'

'Oh, I'll explain your position in considerable detail.' She smiled beautifully and ran a finger down his arm. 'I'm Gabrielle — fly me!'

* * *

She came awake again and found him gone. The sensation of panic was terrible. She sat up and glanced at the bedside clock. It was four o'clock. Then he came in, wearing the old black tracksuit and carrying a newspaper.

'I found it in your letter box.'

He sat on the edge of the bed and opened it. 'Anything interesting?' she asked.

'Yes, British forces have broken out of the San Carlos bridgehead. Sky hawks attacked the troops on land. Two shot down.' He threw down the paper and ran his hands over his face. 'Let's go for a walk.'

'All right. Give me five minutes.'

He waited in the sitting room, smoking a cigarette, and when she joined him, she was wearing the jeans and reefer coat he remembered from London.

They went downstairs and got her car and drove to the Bois de Boulogne. Then they simply walked, holding hands, quiet a great deal of the time.

'You're looking better and more relaxed,' she said.

'Well, that's you.' They were sitting on two deck chairs someone had left out in the rain. 'Some people like drugs, some people like booze, but I'm on Gabrielle, much more efficacious.'

She leaned forward and kissed him. 'You're such a nice man, Raul. The nicest man I ever knew.'

'Ah, well, you make me that way, you see, I told you once before, you make me better.'

They got up and walked back towards the carpark arm-in-arm. 'What's going to happen to us?' she asked.

'You mean, are my intentions honourable? But of course. I will marry you at the appropriate moment, if only to get my hands on the Monet and the Degas.'

'And in the immediate future?'

'A couple of days, if we're lucky, then I must return to Argentina.'

She made a determined effort to be cheerful. 'So, at least tonight is secure. Let's go somewhere nice where we can dine and dance and be together.'

'Where would you suggest?'

'There's a place in Montmartre called Paco's. He's Brazilian. The music is excellent.'

'Paco's it is then. I'll pick you up at eight o'clock. Is that okay?'

'Fine.'

She glimpsed Tony Villiers by the newstand on the far side of the carpark and anger touched her as she unlocked the door of her car. 'I'll drop you off at your place.'

Which she did, getting out of the Mercedes to stand and talk to him for a moment, before driving away.

On the other side of the road, sitting on a bench reading a newspaper, one of Nikolai Belov's men noted the registration number of the car, got up and walked away as Montera went into the apartment block.

* * *

Back at her flat, Gabrielle paced up and down, waiting for the ring at the door which she knew must come. When it did she went and opened it quickly to admit Villiers. She walked back into the sitting room, thoroughly angry, and turned to face him.

'Well?' he said. 'Anything to report?'

'He's here on business for his government in connection with the arms embargo.'

'That really is a very fair description. Anything else?'

'Yes, I don't want you dogging my heels all the time, Tony. I mean that. This is difficult enough as it is.'

'You mean I'm an embarrassment.'

'Put it any way you please. I certainly don't need you tonight. We're dining in Montmartre.'

'And then coming back here?'

She went and opened the door. 'That's all, Tony.'

'Don't worry,' he said. 'Harvey and I have other fish to fry tonight.'

He went out and Gabrielle turned, went into the bathroom and ran her second bath of the day. When she looked forward to the evening it was with anticipation. Whatever else happened, she was going to have that.

* * *

Donner was in the shower when Wanda came in with the hand phone. 'Belov wants a word with you.'

Donner dried his hands, leaned out and took the phone. 'Nikolai, what can I do for you?' He listened for a while, face inscrutable. 'That certainly is interesting. Yes, keep me informed. If they go out anywhere tonight, for example, let me know.'

He handed the phone back to her. 'Trouble?' she said.

'Apparently our war hero has found himself a girlfriend. A spectacularly beautiful young woman according to Belov's information, who lives on the Avenue Victor Hugo.'

'That usually means money.'

'A reasonable deduction. Name of Gabrielle Legrand. Belov's going to keep me informed on the situation. I must say, if she's as good as she sounds, it might be worth taking a look at her.'

'You would,' she said bitterly and put the hand phone down on the small table by the door. 'Do you want anything else?'

'Yes,' he said. 'You can come and scrub my back.'

'If you like.'

She started to undress slowly, thinking already with a certain fear, of a girl she had never met, some strange sixth sense telling her she could be in trouble.