Liz Carlyle - 05 - Present Danger (34 page)

57

The footsteps were getting closer. Liz crouched behind the trunk of a eucalyptus tree, waiting for the commandos’ challenge.

‘
Halte
!’ Laval shouted. ‘
Qui va la
?’

There was silence for a moment, then from the trail a voice called out, ‘Antoine Milraud.’ He seemed to hesitate. ‘I am not armed.’

‘Are you alone?’ Laval called out.

‘Oui
.’

Seurat interjected, ‘You had better be telling the truth,
mon ami
, because it will cost you your life if you’re not. Where are the others?’

‘In the house. Except for James – the American. Piggott as he calls himself. I was following him when you stopped me just now. He has gone to check the boat.’

‘The boat hidden by the beach?’

‘Yes. That’s the one. And he’s armed.’

Laval spoke urgently into his radio, warning the young commando in the cove. He turned to the commandos around him. ‘Fabrice. Jean. Go back and help him.’ Two men slipped away through the trees.

Then Laval, Seurat and the two remaining commandos emerged onto the path, while Liz stayed behind in the shadow of the woods. She could see Milraud’s face now, illuminated by the commandos’ lights, as they surrounded him.

‘Where is the hostage?’ demanded Laval.

‘He’s locked in the cellar. I will show you. But be careful: the man guarding him is not likely to hand him over without a fight.’

‘Is that the Spaniard, Gonzales?’ asked Liz, emerging from behind her tree to stand beside Seurat.

‘So. The English are here too,’ said Milraud, looking at the slender black-clad figure in surprise. ‘You are well informed, mademoiselle.’

‘Is anyone else here?’ asked Laval.

‘No one,’ said Milraud, shaking his head. ‘Just three of us and Willis. That’s all.’ He looked at Seurat. ‘That’s the truth. You know I wouldn’t lie to you about that.’

‘I don’t know what you’d do any more, Antoine.’

‘It’s been a long time, but some things don’t change. I would never have harmed this man. And I offered you my help in my email. Don’t forget that.’

Seurat said dryly, ‘Well, we managed to get here without your help.’

Suddenly there was the sound of a gunshot, a solitary
crack
breaking the pre-dawn silence. It came from the beach.

Seconds later Laval’s radio crackled. ‘Pierre here – I’ve been hit,’ the voice said in a high-pitched tone of pain. ‘I didn’t hear the bastard coming. He’s winged me in my shooting arm and he’s got the dinghy. I can see him.’

The radio crackled again. ‘Fabrice here. We were just seconds too late. We’re with Pierre now. The target is in the boat, twenty metres from the shore. We’re leaving him to Team Bravo.’

‘We have him in our sights,’ came back immediately from the team waiting offshore.

Led by Laval, the group on the path moved quickly through the trees, taking only a minute or two to cover the short distance to the cliff edge. A hundred feet or so below, the sea shone grey as the early-morning light just began to touch the water. As they looked down, they could see a small dinghy moving out into the cove, the puttering of its outboard motor just audible from where they stood.

‘That’s him,’ said Milraud, and Laval radioed confirmation to Team Bravo. He issued an order: ‘Attempt to detain. Otherwise destroy.’

They watched as Piggott picked up speed, heading straight towards the south. Next stop Algeria, thought Liz.

But then she saw the commando craft appear at the mouth of the cove. Even loaded down with its team of commandos, it was going much faster than Piggott. As it drew closer, on a line to cut off his escape, Piggott changed course sharply to the east.

Suddenly a long arc of red dots jumped out of the commando boat, syncopated tiny flares, fluorescent against the dark-grey sea. They disappeared just ahead of the bow of Piggott’s little dinghy. Tracer bullets, thought Liz. Watching in silence, she heard the sharp crack of a weapon. Piggott was returning fire. He must be crazy.

The commandos fired another line of red bullets, this time even closer to the target. And again Piggott fired back, accurately enough to cause the commando dinghy to veer. There was a momentary lull, then the commando boat fired again, and these were not warning shots.

Suddenly flames appeared at the back of the small dinghy. Piggott jumped up from his seat in the stern, his clothes on fire. As the illuminated figure moved to leap overboard, the dinghy wobbled perilously. But before he could jump, the outboard motor burst into flames, and a split second later exploded with a bang that reverberated round the cliffs. The sky above the dinghy lit up like a rosy-pink firework, and the shockwave reached the watchers on the cliff.

‘
Mon dieu
,’ exclaimed Seurat. Liz looked in vain for signs of the dinghy. But it had completely disappeared, blown to bits by the force of the explosion.

58

They stood for a moment in silence. Then Laval said, ‘We must get to the house fast. That must have been heard from there.’

Milraud pointed to a track. ‘This way is quickest.’

They moved along as fast as they dared; it was still quite dark in the woods, and the track was overgrown with tangled shrubs and tree branches that hung low. Laval led the way with one of the commandos, while Liz, Milraud and Seurat proceeded in a line behind them. The second commando brought up the rear.

Suddenly Laval stopped and held up his hand in warning. He had reached the edge of the trees. In front of him was an open courtyard and, looming in the background, a long stone building with a veranda up wooden steps to one side. The farmhouse.

Laval gathered the group round him. ‘If the Spaniard is still asleep where will he be?’ This was addressed to Milraud.

‘That leads into the kitchen,’ the Frenchman said, pointing at a door covered by a fly screen. ‘There are two doors out of it. The green baize one leads into a sitting room; the other one opens into a corridor running the length of the house. Gonzales sleeps in the first room off the corridor.

‘The stairs between the kitchen and his room lead down to the cellar where Willis is locked up. There’s another door to the house at the front. It opens into the other end of the corridor. If you go in that way, Gonzales’s room is the fourth off the corridor on the left-hand side.’

Laval nodded and turned to one of the commandos who was short and stocky but looked very strong. ‘Gilles. You cover the front of the house. Once you get there, wait till you hear my order then move inside and throw the stun grenades into the Spaniard’s room. If he comes out your way, don’t let him escape.
Compris
?’

Gilles nodded, his jaw clenched.

He turned to the second commando. ‘We’ll go in through the kitchen door. We will try to flush out the Spaniard before we release the hostage. Seurat, you go in up those steps and watch our backs and keep Milraud with you. We may need him to talk to Gonzales.
Madamoiselle
, you keep under cover out here in the trees.’

Next, Laval radioed the team on the other side of the island and told them to stay in place in case Gonzales escaped and made his way over towards the ferry. That done, he said, ‘Let’s get going. It’s starting to get light.’

As she positioned herself behind the broad trunk of a pine tree on the edge of the courtyard, Liz felt her heart beating painfully against her ribs. This was the moment when Dave would either be saved or killed. It seemed to her that Laval had split up his forces far too much. Pitifully few of them were actually here to do the job they had come to do: rescuing Dave. He’s left the courtyard unguarded, she thought, her spine crawling at the thought that Gonzales might already be out of the building and in the woods, perhaps creeping up on her, unarmed and unprotected as she was.

She watched as Martin Seurat and Milraud crept up the rickety wooden steps and disappeared into the farmhouse. Then she turned to look at Laval and the commando moving stealthily round the edge of the courtyard, towards the kitchen door, keeping low, holding their weapons ready. They had reached an open-doored barn containing an old car, when suddenly the screen door of the kitchen was kicked open from inside and Dave appeared, staggering as though he was being pushed. Right behind him, clutching Dave’s shirt in one hand and holding a 9 mm automatic against the back of Dave’s head was Gonzales. He was using his hostage as a human shield.

Laval stopped moving at once and slowly stood up from his crouch, raising his gun. The other commando had disappeared. Laval hesitated. He couldn’t fire for fear of hitting Dave. There was a momentary stand-off. Then suddenly Gonzales pushed Dave to the side, still holding onto him with one hand, and fired at Laval. Then he quickly pulled Dave back in front of him.

Laval fell, dropping his weapon and rolling over on the packed earth until he lay sideways, one arm twitching in obvious agony. Gonzales took a step towards him, as Dave suddenly twisted in his grasp and raised his hand. As Gonzales lifted a protective arm and tried to bring his gun round, Dave’s hand flashed down and he plunged something into his captor’s chest.

‘
Ahhhh!
’ the Spaniard shouted, flinching in pain and letting go of Dave.

Dave ran for the edge of the yard. He was perhaps twenty feet away from where Liz was standing when Gonzales lifted his gun and fired. Dave went down at once, clutching his side. Simultaneously the commando stood up from behind the car and fired at the Spaniard. He hit him in the leg and the Spaniard fell heavily but held onto his gun.

Lying where he’d fallen, he lifted his hand and pointed his gun at Dave, still alive but groaning and helpless on the ground. He’s going to finish him off, thought Liz. She had to do something. Stepping out from behind the tree she ran forward to Dave, shouting at the Spaniard at the top of her lungs. ‘Stop! Stop or I’ll shoot.’

Gonzales’ head jerked up, and he raised his gun to fire at this new target. Liz watched with a growing sense of horror as the black gun pointed directly at her. She tensed, waiting for the shot, but though she heard the flat crack of a gun, she felt nothing. Had Gonzales missed?

She dived flat onto the ground before he could fire again – surely he couldn’t miss twice at such short range – but then she saw that Gonzales had dropped his gun; his head had flopped to the ground and she watched with macabre fascination as blood poured from it, staining the ground like spilt juice. The commando and Seurat had fired together and this time neither had missed.

Liz staggered to her feet as Martin Seurat rushed down the wooden steps and across the yard, kicking away the Spaniard’s gun as he passed, though there was not the remotest chance he’d ever use it again. ‘Liz!’ he shouted, ‘Are you all right?’ He put his arms round her as her legs gave way and she almost fell again.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I did a very silly thing, rushing out like that. But I thought he would kill Dave.’

‘No, no. You were very brave.’

But she wasn’t listening. She was kneeling beside Dave. He was alive but barely conscious, breathing shallowly. The bullet had hit him low on one side of his stomach, and blood was spreading like water through a sponge, gradually turning the blue of his shirt ominously black.

‘He’s going to die if we don’t get him to hospital,’ whispered Liz as she helped Seurat gently open up Dave’s shirt. Blood continued to flow from the bullet hole in his lower stomach, as Seurat folded the cotton fabric back against the wound to staunch it.

The commando who had fired at Gonzales had been talking on the radio and was now kneeling beside Laval next to the garage. His colleague Gilles came running from the front of the farmhouse with his gun at the ready. ‘It’s all over,’ Seurat called out to him, and he lowered his gun, though his eyes warily scanned the woods around the yard.

Then almost directly overhead Liz heard the
phut-phut-phut
of a helicopter, and felt the lightest of breezes stirring her hair. Soon the breeze was a stiff wind, then a gale, and within moments she watched as the underbelly of the helicopter hovered above the middle of the yard, sending up dust in a fine spray.

As soon as the chopper settled on the yard and the blades began to slow, the side door slid open and an armed man in military fatigues jumped out, followed by two men in whites. Stretchers and medical equipment were unloaded and within thirty seconds the doctor had taken over caring for Dave from Liz and Seurat. Before long Dave was strapped to the stretcher, drugged now with a morphine injection, a drip in his arm, and loaded into the helicopter. The doctor quickly turned his attention to Laval, who had been hit high in the collarbone. He too was strapped to a stretcher and loaded on board.

Liz, Martin Seurat and the two commandos stood in the courtyard looking up as the helicopter lifted away. As the noise died down, Gilles came over and spoke to Seurat. ‘
L’autre, monsieur
?’ was all Liz could hear above the deafening whirr of the chopper.

‘
L’autre
?’ asked Seurat, frowning with incomprehension.

‘
Oui, oui. L’autre. Le troisième. Où est-il
?’ said the commando insistently.

‘He means Milraud,’ said Liz, suddenly conscious of what the commando was saying. ‘Where is he?’

Seurat froze, a look of anguish on his face. ‘He’s gone. He slipped away while I was focused on what was happening in the courtyard.’

‘Oh no,’ said Liz. ‘Just when you thought you’d got him.’

‘He can’t have got very far,’ said Seurat. ‘Radio to the team at the ferry and alert them,’ he ordered Gilles. ‘I’ll call for air surveillance. He knows the island well but it’s pretty small, and if he can’t get off it I’m sure we’ll soon track him down.’

59

But they didn’t. All day helicopters hovered over the island of Porquerolles and the surrounding sea. Some had heat-seeking equipment that flushed out a couple of cyclists, a walker, and two lovers furious to be disturbed from above. But no Milraud.