Cross of Fire (84 page)

Receiving a fresh instruction from Tweed, the pilot followed
a new course along the southern and eastern shores of the
bassin.
They had left the town behind, marshes were stretch
ing down to the water's edge, when Tweed saw military
checkpoints on the roads inland. De Forge had the port
sewn up tight.

He pressed the glasses close to his eyes as he saw the
oblong of a slipway slanting down
from firm ground into
the water. Behind the slipway a fleet of camouflaged trucks.
He frowned, swept the whole area. It had manned checkpoints guarding every approach road.

Tweed nodded to himself, lowered his glasses, ordered
the pilot to land on the island immediately.

'You've seen something, sir?' Hamilton enquired.

'Yes. I have been surveying the coming battlefield.'

A boat was being drawn up on the beach as Tweed
descended the ladder agilely from his Alouette. He was in a
hurry. A slim man in a telephone company's boiler suit
came towards him.

'Welcome to the
Î
le aux Oiseaux,' said Lasalle.

Tweed came out immediately with what was on his mind
while they shook hands. He described tersely the slipway across the marshes, the waiting fleet of army trucks, the
checkpoints.

'Hamilton, my aide here,' he went on, 'visited Dunwich
before he joined me at Heathrow
en route
to Paris. It was misty, he couldn't even see the
Steel Vulture.
I'm convinced
that vessel - which moves at high speed - will be arriving here to deliver weapons to de Forge. Within hours. Maybe in the middle of the night. Or at dawn.'

'Not in the middle of the night,' Lasalle objected. 'It is a
difficult passage into the
bassin.
The skipper will need
daylight. It is a problem - the whole area is infested with
his troops.'

'Then the
Steel Vulture
must never land. Contact Navarre.
He has the authority...'

'To do what?'

'To issue a warning that mines from the Second World War are floating off Arcachon. No vessel must approach within ten miles.'

'That will stop Dawlish?'

'Having met him, I doubt it. He'll think it's a bluff. So get aircraft to drop real sea mines. I hear there is a type which
has a beeper signal - makes them easy to locate, pick up afterwards.'

'That is so. You are ruthless.' Lasalle commented with a wry smile.

'So is General de Forge. I know the enemy now. I wish I
could see him, face to face.'

'It might be arranged, with a safe conduct. But I would have to be present.'

'Then arrange it. I see you have another boat concealed in the undergrowth. Can I use it to visit Arcachon?'

'You have sharp eyes.' Lasalle smiled again. 'It is sup
posed to be concealed. But it cannot
be seen from the air...'

'Where are Paula, Newman, and the others?' Tweed
hurried on.

Lasalle explained that they'd returned from the Landes,
their experience there, that they had moved from the Atlan
tique to Isabelle Thomas's apartment. Tweed shook his
head.

'That so-called safe house could be traced. They simply must move at once. But where to?'

'I can help there,' Lasalle assured him. 'I have hired a
large cabin cruiser,
L'Orage V...'

'"The Storm". Appropriate for what is coming,' Tweed
commented.

'It is berthed at the edge of the
bassin
away from other
craft.' As he spoke Lasalle took out a map, marking a
position with a cross. 'It is the HQ of my DST team operat
ing in the town. Also well away from any checkpoint. There
would be plenty of room for all of you.'

'Then get me ashore fast.'

Newman had just arrived back at Isabelle's apartment. He
had driven the Espace round Arcachon, had decided he was
taking too many chances. As soon as he came near the
outskirts he saw a checkpoint manned with troops. He
parked the Espace further up the quiet side street. They had stayed with one vehicle too long.

Tweed arrived a few minutes later, riding a bicycle
provided by Lasalle from several stored beneath the undergrowth on the island. He had also marked Isabelle's address on the map.

'A man on a cycle is never noticed.' he had remarked.

Tweed had to press the bell. After a minute a large
woman with a beaky nose and inquisitive eyes opened the
door.

'I have to visit someone on the first floor.' he explained
in French.

'The stamina of that girl.' the woman sneered. 'She has
five men up there already. I expect she'll cope with you.'

'Would you repeat that comment?' Tweed demanded.

She wilted under his icy stare. Contemptuously, he
pushed past her ample form into the lobby, ran up the
stairs. Newman opened the door to him, unable to hide his
surprise.

'All of you have to get out of here.' Tweed announced without ceremony as he entered the room. 'Immediately!'

He took in Butler, Nield, Berthier, Stahl, and Paula with
a quick glance. His gaze rested longer on Isabelle, introduced to him without a name as a friend by Newman.

'Just why do we have to leave so quickly?' she
demanded, her chin tilted, her eyes
studying him.

'Because the town has practically been taken over by de Forge. I can give you five minutes to clear up, collect some
things. Less would be better.'

'We have been safe so far,' she persisted and he realized she was challenging him, which he found intriguing. 'Kal
mar, a top professional assassin, is in Arcachon. He stran
gled a girl in England. He has since strangled another
woman not three miles from here. He seems to specialize in strangling attractive women. I think you're on his list. So is
Paula. Pack your things. Quickly...'

L'Orage V
was a very large cabin cruiser. It was moored part
way up a creek outside Arcachon, shielded from the mainland by a copse of pine trees. Leaving the Espace, which
Newman had parked inside the copse, Tweed insisted on
exploring the apparently deserted vessel alone.

Walking gingerly along the gangplank, he stepped on to
the deck. The
bassin
was still calm, its surface hardly ruffled
by wavelets, but approaching from the ocean was an army
of low black clouds.

The
Orage
had the wheelhouse for'ard, a companionway leading down to a saloon. Tweed's first warning that some
one was aboard was as he stepped into the large saloon
equipped with a long table. A hard object like the barrel of
a gun was rammed into his spine. He stood quite still.

'Pierre?' he enquired.

'Who the devil are you?' a harsh voice rapped back.

Tweed held up the folded letter of introduction Lasalle
had given him. A hand snatched it over his shoulder. The gun stayed pressed into his spine. Then the invisible man spoke in French again.

'Stand quite still while I check you.'

'Check away. I rarely carry a weapon.' Tweed said in
French.

A hand expertly patted him in all the right places. He felt the gun leave his back, turned round cautiously. A six foot
tall, well-built man in his thirties faced him. Fair-haired,
with humorous eyes, he wore a trenchcoat with a blue
pinhead in the lapel.

'I was expecting you.' he greeted Tweed. 'Can't be too
careful. De Forge's men are everywhere. I have to leave now
you've got here. A job to do. How many of you in the
Espace?'

'Five men and two women, excluding myself.'

'You should be all right. There are eight decent bunk
beds in the foc'sle. A well-equipped galley, a ton of food,
and plenty to drink.'

'Before you go, could I have a glass of water?'

Tweed had a horror of ships and the sea. Everything was
always moving unpredictably. Even inside the creek he
didn't trust the cruiser: the
bassin
was tidal. Before bringing
the others aboard he swallowed a Dramamine with some
water. Better be safe than sorry...

Five minutes later Pierre had gone, after telling Tweed
he had sole use of the vessel. Tweed had hustled his team aboard with their kit and they were settled in. Paula offered Isabelle the lower bunk at the end of the sleeping quarters
but Isabelle insisted she would take the upper one. They
hurried into the galley, together checked the food supplies, the cooking arrangements. Newman noticed how well they were getting on together. Tweed then summoned them into the saloon, asking Nield to keep guard on deck and seating
the others at the long table. He sat at the head, his
expression grim.

'There are rules. One, no one leaves this vessel without
my permission. Two, I will establish a guard roster...'

'Which will include us.'

Isabelle and Paula had spoken together. Tweed glared.

'I'll decide that later. Lasalle will be coming to take me somewhere just before dusk. Newman will come with me.
In our absence Egon Stahl will be in charge. Three, we take
meals at regular hours ...'

'We shall want to know the times in advance,' Isabelle
said firmly.

'Well in advance if we're cooking,' Paula agreed.

'Why.' Newman asked, 'have you assembled us all
together here?'

'Because the time has come for me to have complete
control. And Isabelle's apartment had been used long
enough.'

'Those are the only reasons?' enquired Stahl.

It was a shrewd question. Tweed had swiftly summed up the German as capable and resourceful. He must be to have survived in Bordeaux so long. Before Tweed could answer
Newman put a question which had been intriguing him to
Stahl.

'How on earth did you penetrate de Forge's GHQ?'

'Planning.' Stahl gave his infectious smile. 'I travelled
inside the van which delivers daily bread to the officers.
Hid inside the back, unknown to the driver. Locating where he loaded up took some research, but forget that. While he
was delivering I left the van. Earlier in Bordeaux I picked
the pocket of a fake DST officer who was checking my
papers. I took his identity card.'

'Where did you learn to pick pockets?' Paula asked.

'Oh, that's how I started out in life.'

It took Paula a moment to realize he was joking. Stahl
patted her hand, went on.