‘You really sure that’s a good idea?’
‘Listen, Colin, we’ve got a hell of a long way to go. The Italian authorities will know for sure that we’ve made it as far as France, and that means the Russians will know it as well. I really don’t fancy trying to fight our way through teams of Moscow hit men all the way to Calais. If we can hitch a ride on that Lear, we can be in London today. In a couple of hours. We just have to make sure that’s where we end up, and not in Virginia.’
‘OK,’ Dekker replied. ‘So how do we do it?’
‘That’s the tricky bit. Let me have another look at that map.’
‘I’ve now picked up two further contacts in the vicinity of the target aircraft, both heading north-east and in loose formation,’ the U2 pilot reported to Westwood on the Company chat frequency. ‘Slow-moving, so probably rotary wing. I’m waiting for the computer to confirm that.’
‘Position?’ Westwood asked.
‘Just about to cross the E70 autoroute near St Michel de Maurienne. That puts them about twenty miles from where the target turned north-west, and twenty-five miles from its present position. Computer now confirms they’re helicopters, most likely a pair of French Eurocopter Dauphin gunships. If they catch up with the target — and they will — they’ll be able to blow him out of the sky.’
‘Thanks.’ Westwood switched frequencies. ‘Foxtrot Lima, November Two Four, update. You have two probable helicopter gunships approaching you from the south-west. You can’t outrun them, so I suggest you land as soon as possible, before they force you down, or worse.’
‘That’s it,’ Richter said. ‘Decision made.’
He called Westwood. ‘OK, Kilo Xray, we’ll grab a ride with you. If you can land the Lear at Chambéry, we’ll put this thing down as soon as we can and meet you there. Agreed?’
‘That’s a deal. I’m up here with a friend, and we’ll fly top cover for you until you’re on the ground.’
‘A friend?’ Richter asked.
‘One high letter and one low number.’
‘Copied.’
‘You’re going to tell us what the hell he’s talking about, I hope,’ Dekker said.
‘It’s easy,’ Richter replied. ‘There’s only one aircraft operated by the Americans that’s designated by a letter that occurs late in the alphabet and also a low number. There’s a U2 somewhere way up above us. That explains how Westwood found us, and how he’s been getting information on other stuff flying around.’
‘A U2? You’re kidding.’ Dekker glanced at Raya with new respect. ‘You must be a hell of a lot more important than I thought,’ he said. ‘Makes me wonder why they sent a knackered old shag like Richter here to bring you in.’
Raya grinned at him. ‘Because that’s what I wanted,’ she said. ‘Somebody who wasn’t a member of your SIS. And he’s not that knackered, and I can prove it.’
Dekker glanced from Raya to Richter, and back again. ‘Got it,’ he said. ‘Message received and understood.’
‘OK,’ Richter said, as the Piper covered the remaining distance, ‘make sure your seat belts are tight, because the landing’s going to be bumpy. I’ll make a low pass over the field first, just to check for obstructions like cows or power lines, then I’ll put it on the ground.’
Dekker was still looking at the topographical map. ‘You’re heading for Aime?’ he asked.
‘Yes, it’s slightly closer, and the contour lines suggest there might be a bit more level ground there.’
A few minutes later, Richter throttled back, dropped the Piper down to about five hundred feet above ground level, and banked to the left as he studied the ground below them. A road and railway line were now clearly visible to the north, while below there was a largely open field, lying south of the railway line, which lay south of the N90 road. The field had clumps of trees growing at both ends, but there was an open area between which looked to Richter about five hundred yards long. It would be tight, but doable. And there was nothing else nearby that looked any better.
‘I suppose it’s a bit high here for growing most crops,’ Dekker remarked, ‘but I can see a few animals over to the north of the main road. Grazing the mountain pastures, I suppose.’
‘Ski areas are a pretty depressing sight in summer,’ Richter said, ‘but they’re also usually deserted, which suits us. That’ll do fine,’ he added, turning the aircraft left, to point back the way they’d come.
‘There?’ Dekker sounded horrified. ‘It’s like somebody’s back garden. You’ll never get it down into that space.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ Richter said, ‘but it’s actually long enough, and quite wide. I just need to drop down as near to those trees at the north-east end as I can, and then get this thing stopped before we run into the trees at the other end.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Dekker muttered, and pulled his seat belt a little tighter.
‘And, actually, there’s nowhere else,’ Richter added.
‘The two helos have split, one left, one right,’ the U2 pilot advised Westwood. ‘It looks like they’re starting a search for the target. The guy going north-east is going to spot the aircraft within a couple of minutes, if he stays on the same heading.’
‘Roger,’ Westwood said, and switched back to the frequency he was using to communicate with Richter. ‘This is November Two Four. You need to get that thing on the ground right now. One of those gunships will be on you in about three minutes.’
‘Copied. We’re almost downwind, should be on the deck inside two minutes. And thanks.’
The field was covered with grass, but it was far from a bowling-green surface, looking rough and lumpy. But, on the good side, it was reasonably level, and just about long enough for the Piper to land in, with no obvious obstructions apart from the trees. Like all pilots, Richter had a well-deserved fear of power lines, telephone cables and the like, which could rip off a wing or propeller in an instant, and turn any landing into an uncontrollable and fatal crash.
He continued around in a tight turn — to start what would have been called the downwind leg if he’d been at an airfield circuit. That took him over what looked like a small, recently built housing estate. He eyed the trees carefully as he prepared to land, but their branches seemed almost stationary, so he knew there was no significant wind.
Richter reduced speed still further, selected full flap and then lowered the undercarriage, dividing his attention between the instruments in front of him and the open field to his left.
With the airspeed indicator showing just over seventy knots — on the plastic board, the stall speed of the aircraft was listed at fifty knots — he turned the Piper onto base leg and continued the turn until he was lined up with the field. Then he continued reducing speed slowly.
As always, the aircraft seemed to go faster the closer it got to the ground, an optical illusion Richter was very familiar with. The trees seemed to rush up towards them, the field in front now looking deceptively short, and the surface slightly worse than he’d expected. He held the speed at sixty knots, which would give him sufficient speed to go around again — to carry out a missed approach — if he wasn’t happy with the look of the surface just before the Piper touched down.
Directly ahead was a short line of trees, at right angles to his line of approach, which marked the end of the clear area.
He watched the tops of the trees getting closer, and for an instant it seemed they were too close, that the undercarriage was going to clip them. Beside him, Dekker muttered something under his breath.