He looked out from the tunnel entrance to where the Chieftain banked over the sea and came in again, heading for the cliffs and disappearing from view.
'What the hell are they doing?' Stavrou exclaimed. 'There's nowhere to land on this rock.'
'Oh, yes there is,' Donner said. 'If the tide's right, there's plenty of beach at the base of those cliffs. The French Air Force proved it could be done last year. It just wasn't a practical proposition on a long term basis, that's all.'
'So what do we do? If that is Villiers, then he must have contacted the French authorities. We could have paratroopers round our necks before we know it.'
'Let's see how things are inside,' said Donner calmly.
He pushed Montera ahead of him. They moved along the tunnel and entered a large concrete cave brightly lit by floodhghts. Four of the special trucks built to carry the missile were lined up at a loading ramp, where the civilian personnel in Aerospatiale overalls toiled to load the Exocets with the assistance of special hydraulic hoists, closely supervised by armed mercenaries.
Jarrot was in charge. 'What stage are you at?' Donner asked.
'Difficult to say. With luck, another twenty minutes and we can move down to the harbour.'
Donner turned to Stavrou. 'I'll stay here. You take some men and get up on those cliffs. If anyone is trying to get through, stop them. You must give us the time we need.'
Stavrou grinned savagely. 'My personal guarantee on it.' He nodded to Jarrot. 'Come on, Claude. We've got work to do.'
They ran back along the tunnel. Donner took out a cigarette and lit it. 'Villiers,' he said. 'How incredible.' He laughed, totally without malice. 'God damn him, he must be nearly as good as me.'
'What was it you said?' Montera asked. 'Nothing like a little organisation?'
'One of those days,' Donner said amiably. 'Everyone has them.'
'So now what happens?'
'We wait and see, old sport, but preferably back in Espinet's office in comfort. I left that bottle of Krug on his desk and it's too good to waste, chilled or not.'
'You're finished,' Montera said, 'and you know it.'
'We'll see, old sport, we'll see.' Donner grinned and pushed him along the tunnel.
Leclerc took the Chieftain in on a trial run, feeling for the wind. A cross current from the island caught them so that they rocked violently in the turbulence. He brought the Chieftain round in a tight circle and came in low over the waves, throttling back and dropping flaps.
The wheels seemed to touch the surface of the water and then they were down, biting into the hard wet sand and running forward through the shallows, spray flying up in great clouds on either side. Leclerc taxied to the far end of the beach, turned into the wind and switched off the engines.
'The tide's on the turn. Maybe an hour and there won't be enough beach left for a take-off.'
'It doesn't matter,' Villiers told him. 'After all, it isn't our plane.'
He produced the Walther he had taken from Rabier, checked the action, then put it back in his pocket. Leclerc's men had already got the airstair door open and were scrambling out on to the beach one by one, each man taking with him a weapon from the supply of arms they had brought from the Maison Blanche. Villiers picked up an Armalite, slipped a hand grenade into his pocket and joined them.
A cold wind drove rain in across the wet flats as they stood around him in a semi-circle. 'How many of you have had combat experience?' he demanded.
Leclerc indicated a tall, fit-looking young man with close cropped hair, whose steel-rimmed glasses were already misting with rain. 'Sergeant Albray here was on detachment with the Foreign Legion in Chad two years ago. He's been under fire more than once. As for the rest of us…' He shrugged.
'All right,' Villiers said. 'There's only time for me to say one thing of importance to you. No boy scout ethics like giving those bastards a fair chance. Shoot them in the back if you have to because that's exactly what they'll do to you. Now let's get out of here,' and he turned and started to run across the sand towards the base of the cliffs.
They had seemed impregnable on the flight in from the sea, but on a closer view, were breached by an enormous gully, water running down the centre. It provided an easy if strenuous route up from the beach.
Ten minutes later they were over the top and starting down the slope through a jumble of broken grey boulders, sparse grass, everything shrouded in clinging mist. Villiers sensed voices somewhere below, held up his hand to caution Leclerc and the others to silence.
They went forward through the mist and came to the edge of an escarpment and there below, toiling up the slope, was Jarrot, followed by three other men. Villiers had eyes only for Stavrou bringing up the rear, could see only Harvey Jackson's tortured face as he sat tied to the chair in that wretched little bungalow near Lancy.
He took the grenade from his pocket and pulled the pin with his teeth. For once, he allowed anger to betray his usual icy calm and rigorous training.
'Stavrou, you bastard!' he called. 'Here's a present from Harvey Jackson,' and he tossed the grenade into the ravine.
Stavrou, alerted by that cry, every instinct bred of years of hard living coming to his aid, was already turning, diving headlong down the hillside, rolling out of sight into the mist and rain. Not so his companions. There was a shattering explosion followed by screams, and Villiers moved to the edge, his Armalite ready. The ravine was like a butcher's shop, Jarrot and his three companions all badly hit. There was horror on the faces of the young French soldiers as they moved to join Villiers. He raised the Armalite to his shoulder and fired at one of the men who was trying to crawl away.
Leclerc caught him by the shoulder and swung him round. 'For God's sake, haven't you had enough?'
There was a single shot, a bullet caught him in the side of the head, splintering bone as it emerged above his right ear. He fell back over the edge.
One of the sergeants loosed off a burst from his machine pistol at Jarrot who had fired the shot from the hip, bracing himself on one knee. The bullets spun him around and shredded the back of his camouflage jacket so that it burst into flame.
There was only silence then as they stood beside Villiers, staring at the carnage and at Leclerc's body down there also.
'Is that it, sir?' one of the younger sergeants asked.
Villiers shook his head. 'There are still others down there at the base and the man we really want, Felix Donner. I'm sorry about your captain. He was a good man, but you don't survive in war by being kind, decent and honourable, not these days. I hope you've learned your lesson. Use it well when we get down there.' He slammed another clip into his Armalite. 'All right, follow me, do exactly as I say and you might just live forever.'
Donner, back in Espinet's office, heard the grenade explosion and then the rattle of small arm fire that followed it. He moved to the window, glass in hand and saw Stavrou running down the slope on the other side of the huts.
Montera said, 'Could something else have gone wrong, do you think?'
Donner turned round, still smiling, but the eyes were cold and very dark. He said, 'You really do presume on my good nature, old sport, don't you?' He took a quick step forward and punched Montera in the face, catching him high on the right cheek, sending him flying backwards out of the chair.
He opened the door and stepped outside as Stavrou ran across the street towards the entrance to the tunnel to the missile pens. Stavrou saw him at once and veered towards him.
'How bad?' Donner demanded.
'Villiers caught us in a ravine up there. Had at least half a dozen men with him.'
'Jarrot and the others?'
'Grenade. I only got out myself by the skin of my teeth. What do we do now?'