Exocet - Jack Higgins [37]
He glanced up and smiled. 'One hour, baby, then the big bang.'
There was a rattle of small arms fire close at hand, and as Lopez turned, Private Olivera appeared in the doorway.
'British troops coming down the hill.'
'How many?'
'I counted three.'
There was no sound and yet suddenly blood spurted as Olivera was driven forward through the doorway in a mad dance to fall face down, his quilted parka starting to smoulder.
Lopez snatched up an Uzi sub-machine gun and ran to the door, crouching. Then he waited.
* * *
It had been sheer bad luck that Carvallo, the third Argentinian, had been sitting in the shelter of an old sheep pen some little way up the hillside, whose rusting corrugated iron roof had afforded shelter from the rain while he smoked a cigarette and wrote a letter home to his girlfriend in Bahia Blanca.
He stretched, stood up and walked out of the entrance and to his total astonishment, saw the three SAS men approaching cautiously along the track, keeping to the wall.
They became aware of him in the same instant. He snatched up his machine pistol and loosed off a wild burst that went skywards as Jackson and Korda fired together, driving him back into the sheep pen.
'Now!' Villiers cried. 'And fast!'
Korda went straight down the track, Jackson to the left, Villiers to the right. They broke from cover, running headlong, in time to see Olivera dart into the entrance of the lighthouse and stand there for a moment. Villiers and Korda both fired, sending Olivera staggering inside.
Villiers dropped to one knee to reload and Korda kept right on going, straight down the track into the open.
'No!' Villiers shouted, and Lopez fired a long burst round the edge of the door, knocking Korda off his feet.
The boy lay there for a moment, then turned over and tried to crawl. Lopez fired round the door again, the rounds kicking up fountains of dirt close to Korda's head.
Jackson ran to join Korda, loosing off a long burst that raked the doorway. Then his sub-machine gun jammed.
Jackson grabbed the boy by the scruff of the neck and pulled him into the flimsy shelter of an old water trough. In the lighthouse, Lopez shoved another clip into his Uzi and raked the trough with several bursts until water spouted from a dozen holes.
Villiers rammed home a fresh clip and went down the hill on the run, right across the front of the lighthouse, loosing off the entire magazine in one long continuous burst. As the gun emptied he dived head first into sodden bracken and rolled over, reaching for the Smith & Wesson Magnum he carried in the pouch on his right leg.
Lopez bought it, jumping out of the entrance, the Uzi raised to fire. Villiers shot him in the left shoulder, spinning him round, the Uzi jumping into the air.
The Argentinian slid down the wall as Villiers approached and kicked the Uzi to one side. 'Very good,' Lopez said. 'I congratulate you.'
Villiers opened a pouch on his left leg, took out a field service dressing pack and broke it open. 'Here, hold this on it.'
He turned and crossed to the water trough. Korda lay sprawled against it, face twisted with pain while Jackson applied a field service dressing to his left thigh.
'He'll live,' Jackson said. 'Though he doesn't deserve to. Daft bastard,' he added as he jabbed a morphine capsule into Korda's arm. 'Who did you think you were, Audie Murphy?'
'Who's he?' Korda asked weakly.
'Never mind.'
Jackson gave him a cigarette, then followed Villiers back to the lighthouse and Lopez.
'Watch him,' Villiers said and slipped into the entrance.
His practised eye took in the blue cylindrical box, the wires disappearing up the spiral staircase. He turned, 'A charge on every floor, all linked?'
'Of course, my friend. If your people hoped to use this harbour they'd