Exocet - Jack Higgins [36]
As they came to the foot of an apron of loose stone and shale, he paused and glanced back at his companions.
'Okay?'
'No, bloody awful, actually,' Jackson said.
Korda said, 'The things I do for England. My old mum will be so proud.'
'You never had one, son,' Jackson said and as they started forward, it began to rain a little.
'Watch it,' Villiers said. 'A bit treacherous from here on in.'
He stuffed the sub-machine gun inside the tunic of his camouflage uniform and zipped it up. Awkward, but it left his hands free. Once, he heaved strongly on a boulder and it tore free and he swung quickly to one side, crying a warning. It bounced and crashed its way down the mountainside, disappearing into the mist.
'You two all right?'
'Only just,' Jackson called.
Villiers started to climb again and a moment later, found himself standing on the edge of a broad plateau. Jackson and Korda joined him.
'Now what?' Jackson demanded.
Villiers pointed across the plateau to the great rock wall which faced them, draped in mist. Fissures and cracks branched across it in dark fingers. He led the way over the plateau at a jog-trot, picking his way between boulders. When they reached the base of the rock, it became apparent that it wasn't actually perpendicular, but tilted back slightly in great slabs.
'Dear God,' Korda said, looking up.
'He helps those who help themselves,' Jackson said. 'So let's get moving.'
Villiers led the way, climbing strongly, concentrating on the rock in front of him, not looking down, for a secret he had nursed to himself for years was his fear of heights. If the selection board had known that, he would never have served in the 22 SAS, that was certain.
He paused at one point, braced against the rock and for a moment seemed to float in space. It was as if a giant hand was trying to pull him away.
'You okay, sir?' Jackson called.
It broke the spell. Villiers nodded and started to climb again, forgetting his aching limbs, the icy wind, his numbed hands. He moved at last over a tilted slab and found himself on a broad ledge. Above him, a wall of rock lifted a hundred feet, no more, and beyond it was only grey sky.
He waited for the others to join him, which they did a couple of minutes later.
'Jesus, not some more,' Jackson said.
Villiers indicated a dark chimney that cut its way straight up through the solid rock. 'Looks bad, but it's the easiest part of the climb.'
'I'll take your word for it,' Jackson said.
Villiers pulled himself up into the gloom, then turned and, using the common mountaineering technique, braced his back against one wall and feet against the other, resting every fifteen or twenty feet, his body firmly wedged.
After a while he found it was possible to climb properly and the handholds were good and plentiful. Ten minutes later, he scrambled over the edge.
The wind cut like a knife and the rain, at that level, had turned to sleet. He pulled on his gloves again, stamping his feet against the bitter cold. Eventually Jackson joined him and then Korda. They looked tired and drawn and their balaclava helmets were covered in frost.
The mountains sloped down towards the sea, wrapped in grey mist and low cloud. Suddenly, the wind tore a hole in the curtain and for a moment only they had a glimpse of the Atlantic and far, far below, the tiny bay and the white finger of the old lighthouse standing at the entrance.
'There she is - Bull Cove,' Villiers said as the curtain dropped back into place. 'Let's get moving.'
He pulled the sub-machine gun out of his tunic, held it across his chest with both hands, and started to run down the mountainside.
* * *
Captain Carlos Lopez carefully uncoiled the wire he had just taped to the charge he had positioned on the second floor and paused to light a cigarette. All five floors linked now, which left only the ground. It had progressed faster than he had anticipated and he was whistling cheerfully as he started down the stairs, uncoiling the wire behind him.
Once at ground level, he ran the wire across