Exocet - Jack Higgins [39]
'There's Uruguay for you. La Paloma a couple of miles to starboard. We're sticking you in as close to Montevideo as possible. Sea's a bit choppy, but it shouldn't give you too much trouble. I suppose you've done this sort of thing rather a lot?'
'Now and then.'
Doyle had been watching the shoreline carefully through his nightglasses and now he leaned down and spoke briefly into his voice pipe.
The submarine started to slow and Doyle turned to Villiers: 'As far as we go, I'm afraid. They're bringing your dinghy out of the hatch.'
'Thanks for the ride,' Villiers said and shook hands.
He went over the side and descended the ladder, Jackson following him, down to the circular hull. The dinghy was already in the water, held by two able seamen. Jackson dropped in and Villiers followed. There was quite a swell running and one of the ratings slipped and lost his footing on the slimy steel plates of the hull.
'Ready to go, sir?' the CPO in charge asked.
'No time like the present.'
The ratings released the lines and immediately the tide pulled the dinghy away from the submarine and in towards the shore.
The wind was freshening, lifting the waves into whitecaps. As Villiers reached for an oar, water poured over the side. He adjusted his weight and they started to paddle.
Through the curtain of spray, the shore suddenly seemed very close. Jackson cursed as water slopped steadily over the side; then they were lifted high on a swell and Villiers saw the wide beach, sand dunes beyond.
The water broke in white foaming spray. They slewed round and Jackson went over the side, waist deep, to pull them in.
'Ain't life grand?' he said, as Villiers stepped out in the shallows.
'Stop grumbling,' Villiers told him, 'and let's get out of here.'
They dragged the dinghy up to the nearest dune, Jackson puncturing it with his knife, and they covered it with sand. Then they walked up through the dunes and saw a large beach cafe over on the right, shuttered and dark.
'That looks like it,' Villiers said.
There was a dark saloon car parked by the sea wall. As they approached, the door opened and a man in an anorak got out and stood waiting.
'A nice night for a walk, senores,' he said in Spanish.
And Villiers gave the required answer in English. 'Sorry, we're strangers here and don't speak the language.'
The other smiled and held out his hand. 'Jimmy Nelson. Everything went all right then?'
'Soaked to the bloody skin is all,' Jackson said.
'Never mind. Get in and I'll take you back to my place.'
As they drove away, Villiers asked: 'Is there any chance of finding out what all this is about?'
'Search me, old boy. I just do as I'm told. Orders from on high and so on. I've got clothes waiting for you, all you need. Full details were supplied as to sizes. Someone was very efficient. Also passports made out in your own names as there seemed no reason why not. Occupation, sales engineer, that holds true for both of you.'
'And where do we go?'
'Paris. One snag about that. There's only one direct flight to that fair city and it's on Fridays. However, I've pulled a few strings and got you on an Air France cargo-carrying jumbo that leaves in,' he glanced at his watch, 'around three hours from now, so it's all worked out rather well. You'll be in Paris tomorrow evening, their time. I always get confused about time changes.'
'And then what?'
'Search me. I presume Brigadier Ferguson will explain when he sees you.'
'Ferguson?' Villiers groaned. 'You mean he's behind this?'
'That's right. Anything wrong, old man?'
'Not really, except I'd rather be back behind the lines in the Falklands,' Villiers told him.
10
At Charles de Gaulle Airport, Captain George Corwin was leaning against a pillar, reading a newspaper. It was dark outside, for it was just after nine o'clock. Garcia was standing over by the news stand, trying to look casual and not doing too well at it, when Raul Montera appeared at the exit from Immigration and Customs. He carried