Exocet - Jack Higgins [20]
'You think there's a way?' she asked.
'Oh, yes, there's always a way, if one looks close enough.'
'Nikolai and this man Garcia are here.'
'Good.' He turned and kissed her neck, pulling her on to his knee. 'I've told Stavrou to hire a private plane. I want you to fly down here,' he pointed at the map, 'to this St Martin place first thing in the morning. See if you can find us a house in the area. Something substantial that's immediately available. There's bound to be something. Always is in that kind of country area.'
'Anything else?'
'Maybe later. Now show Nikolai and Garcia in.'
She went out and a moment later the two men entered. Donner got up and walked to the window, stretching. The view of the city was panoramic and always delighted him.
'Thank God it's stopped raining.'
Garcia said impatiently. 'Please, Senor Donner. You said you would have news for me.'
Donner turned. 'But I do. It's all in hand, my friend. In fact I think I can guarantee you, let's say, ten of the latest mark of Exocet missile by next Monday.'
Garcia gazed at him in awe. 'Can this be so, senor?'
'Definitely. You can leave it all in my hands. Just one thing for you to do. I want an Argentine air force officer to liaise with me on this one. No desk type either. Preferably a first rate pilot. After all, it's only a fifteen hour flight from Buenos Aires to Paris. You get a message off tonight and he could be here tomorrow or the next day.'
'Of course, senor. I'll get a message off right away. And the financial arrangements?'
'We'll settle all that later.'
Garcia left and Donner went to the drinks cabinet and poured whisky into two glasses.
'What are you up to?' Belov demanded.
Donner handed him one of the glasses. 'How would it suit you if, in getting these Exocets, I dropped the Argentinians right in the manure, the French breaking off diplomatic relations, a real international scandal? How would you like that?'
'I think I'd like it immensely,' Belov said. 'Tell me more.'
So Donner did, in finest detail.
6
Ferguson worked late that evening at his office at the Directorate-General, for Group Four more than had its hands full these days. In addition to exercising its normal anti-terrorist role against the possibility of Argentine undercover units infiltrating London, Ferguson had been given responsibility by the Director-General himself for handling and co-ordinating all operations connected with Exocet.
Harry Fox came in, looking tired, shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow. 'I've just had the good word in from Peru. Our people there in co-operation with anti-government guerrillas destroyed a military convoy earlier today which was carrying five Exocets to a Peruvian air force base near Lima for onward transportation to the Argentine.'
'Thank God for that. What about the Libyans?'
'Qadhafi seems to be having second thoughts. Both King Hussein and the Egyptian government have asked him to keep out of it.'
'Which really only leaves the manufacturers, Harry. All right, we know there's been a certain amount of French technical assistance, but that, after all, has been mainly a product of circumstance. The men involved were already there.'
'An interesting question, sir. What would we do if we had trouble with our own Exocet missiles? Expect the French to render technical assistance?'
'We don't wish to know that, Harry. Get back to work.'
Rain dashed against the window pane. He went and peered out and shivered, thinking of the fleet down there in the South Atlantic and winter rolling in.
'God help sailors at sea on a night like this,' he said softly.
* * *
It was very quiet in the small study in the Residencia del Presidente at Olivos outside Buenos Aires. The President himself, General Leopoldo Fortunato Galtieri, was in uniform, but had taken off his tunic as he sat at the desk working his way through a mass of papers.
He was a bull of a man, plain spoken, a soldier's soldier, and had frequently been compared to that most colourful of all American generals of the Second World War, George S. Patton.
There was a knock at