Exocet

'I told you, there's no place to run,' Montera said.

'Oh, yes there is. You're going to fly us out of here, Colonel.'

They reached the edge of the cliffs. The Chieftain was clearly visible in spite of the mist, strangely alien in such a place. There was only one thing wrong. The sea rolled in across the sand in great, hungry breakers. Already at least half the area on which the Chieftain had landed was eaten away, the rest broken up by trailing fingers in salt water.

'You've had it,' Montera said. 'See for yourself.'

'Get moving!'

Donner pushed him down into the gully and they went sliding down together in a shower of broken stones and earth. They plunged down the final slope of scree and emerged on to the open beach, aware at once of the strong fresh wind blowing in from the sea.

Montera had ended up on his back, hampered by his bound hands. As Donner pulled him to his feet a cascade of stones rained down from above. Donner turned, firing blindly into the mist, then grabbed Montera by the collar and ran for the plane, pushing him in front of him.

As they reached the Chieftain, he rammed Montera against the side and pushed the revolver barrel up under his chin. Then he took a knife from his pocket, sprang the blade and sliced through the silk scarf.

He stood back. 'Okay, inside and let's get out of here.'

Montera's face stayed calm, but something in his eyes made Donner turn to find Tony Villiers arriving on the run, travelling fast, the Walther in his right hand. He halted perhaps thirty feet away.

'All right, Donner, let him go!' he called.

Donner half-turned towards Montera, sighed. 'Like I said, it's been one of those days.'

Montera said, 'Don't try it, not with him.'

'Maybe you've got a point,' Donner said. 'On the other hand, I'm tired of running, sport.'

He turned, the revolver swinging up in his right hand. Villiers fired three times very fast, one bullet catching Donner in the right shoulder spinning him round, the others shattering his spine, driving him against the plane. He bounced off and fell on his face and a wave swept in over him from the incoming tide, lapping around the wheels of the plane.

Montera stood looking at him. 'Nothing like a little organisation,' he said softly.

'What's that?' Villiers asked.

'Nothing important. Is Gabrielle all right?'

'Yes fine, waiting back at Maison Blanche. We had a certain amount of luck there. Wanda Jones released us, the rest we made up as we went along.'

'Who flew the plane?'

'The French captain, Leclerc.'

There was a distant buzzing and Montera pointed to where three helicopters moved in under low cloud, line astern.

'Who's that?'

'The French unless I'm very much mistaken, arriving just too late. Probably paratroopers. Do you think you could fly this thing out of here?'

Montera looked about him. 'We haven't got a clear run. It's all broken up by water channels as you can see. Why do you ask?'

'Because I think it might be a good idea if you got the hell out of here and in the circumstances I'm willing to take my chances with you. There's going to be one hell of a row about this and I'd rather be out of it. I don't owe the French anything. They sold you the Exocets that sank the Sheffield, Coventry and Atlantic Conveyor in the first place.'

'They also sold them to you, my friend.'

'True. Which goes to prove something, though I'm not sure what. Come on, are we going or are we not? You can only die once.'

'Okay,' Montera said. 'You're on.'

He climbed in behind the controls while Villiers got into the passenger seat beside him and secured the door. The engines coughed into life with a shattering roar, drowning every other sound.

'What do you think?' Villiers shouted.

Montera didn't even bother to reply. There was a strange, set smile to his face. He taxied into the wind and gave the plane full throttle. The Chieftain shuddered and seemed to leap forward on a diagonal course to the sea that gave them the longest strip of beach left.

They went across one water channel and then another and another, spray flying up in clouds on either side, Montera stamping hard on the rudder bar to keep her straight. And then she lifted, one wing dipping slightly, and the breakers were beneath then, the wheels skimming the whitecaps.

Suddenly, they were moving very fast indeed, the engine note deepening into a full-throated roar. Only then did Montera pull back on the control column.

* * *

After a couple of hours waiting at the house, Gabrielle could take it no longer and she and Wanda walked to the airfield. It was still raining hard and they sheltered in the hangar.

Gabrielle said, 'What are you going to do after this?'

Wanda shrugged. 'God knows. I was on the street when Felix picked me up. It was like a dream. From the gutter to luxury, just like that. I suppose I'll have to wake up now.' She shook her head. 'He was a right bastard, you know that? And I was so afraid of him.'

'Then why did you stay?'

'Because I was more afraid of being back on the street.'

'And now?'

Wanda said, 'Oh, I don't know. All of a sudden, it looks as if it could be interesting.'

'I've been thinking,' Gabrielle said. 'I've got a lot of good friends in the magazine business and I've a hunch the camera would like you. Maybe we could put something together.'

'You mean, Wanda Jones as a sort of Vogue centrefold?' Wanda grinned. 'Now that really would be something.'

There was the sound of engines in the far distance and the Chieftain came in low from the west, then turned into the wind for landing.

Wanda said, 'I've just thought of something. What if it isn't them? What if they lost out? It could be Felix.'

Gabrielle turned, a kind of astonishment on her face. 'You really think a man like Donner could take Tony Villiers?' She laughed out loud. 'My God, Wanda, but you do have a lot to learn,' and she turned and walked towards the plane as it taxied in.

* * *

The Chieftain came to a halt, but Montera didn't switch off the engine, simply sat there staring out of the windscreen.

He said, 'Could you make it fast? I want to get out of here.'

'You're not staying?'

'Nothing to stay for.'

'I'd say there is, standing right outside by the port wing.'

Montera slid back the side window and looked out at her. Gabrielle was laughing, all the relief in the world in her face. She waved excitedly.

He turned to Villiers. 'Please Tony.'

It was the first time he had used his name and there was anguish in his voice. Villiers said, 'Okay, but I'm sticking with you. Where are we going?'

'Where we started from. Brie-Comte-Robert.'

'And then?'

'There's an Air France jumbo leaving for Buenos Aires tonight. I intend to be on it.'

He started to turn the Chieftain away, increased speed and Gabrielle wasn't smiling now, her mouth opening in a cry that was soundless, drowned by the roaring of the engines and then she was somewhere behind the end of the runway that was rushing towards them.

* * *

The concourse at Charles de Gaulle airport was not particularly busy as Tony Villiers waited by the bookstall outside the international departure lounge. Montera was at the Air France desk putting his holdall through. He turned and paused to light a cigarette, a curiously elegant figure in the old black flying jacket and the jeans.

'Dear God,' Villiers said softly, 'I actually like the man. Everything all right?' he asked as Montera approached.

'I've got to change at Rio. Something to do with flying in the exclusion zone. Obviously no one intends to take any chances. No problem. Even allowing for that, I should be in Buenos Airs within seventeen or eighteen hours.'