Exocet - Jack Higgins [44]
'So?' Montera said.
'I've taken a house in Brittany near the coast close to an old wartime bomber station. A place called Lancy. Disused now, but the runways are still perfectly usable. Two days from now, possibly three, a Hercules transport en route from Italy to Ireland will put down at Lancy, quite illegally, of course. There will be ten of the latest mark of Exocet missile on board.'
'Holy Mother of God!' Garcia said.
'You, Colonel Montera, will check that cargo. If you're satisfied, you will phone Senor Garcia here in Paris who will make immediate arrangements to have three million pounds in gold transferred as I direct in Geneva.'
'I must congratulate you, senor,' Montera said softly. 'That really is the way to wage war.'
'I've always thought so,' Donner said. 'I presume, by the way, that you will want to take off with the Hercules when it leaves, not for Ireland, but for Dakar in Senegal. They're very liberally minded there, especially when it comes to business. The Hercules will re-fuel, fly across to Rio, where it will re-fuel again for the final leg of the journey which will be to any air force base which takes your fancy in the Argentine.'
There was silence. Garcia said with some awe, 'Magnificent.'
'And you, colonel?' Donner looked up at Montera. 'Do you think it's magnificent?'
'I'm a professional soldier,' Montera said. 'I don't have opinions. I just do as I'm told. When do you want me at this place?'
'The day after tomorrow. We'll fly down by private plane.' Donner stood up. 'Until then, enjoy yourself. This is Paris. I'd say you've earned it after your efforts down there in the South Atlantic'
Montera went and opened the door for them. As they went out, Donner said, 'I'll be in touch.'
He and the Russian moved down the hall, Garcia lingered a moment. 'What do you think?'
'I think I don't like him,' Montera said. 'But that's not what I'm here for.'
'I'd better go,' Garcia said. 'If anything of importance comes up, I'll phone you. Otherwise, colonel, you might as well do as Senor Donner suggests - enjoy yourself.'
* * *
Gabrielle went riding in the Bois de Boulogne at noon. It had stopped raining and there were few people about. She'd slept badly, had stayed in bed until just before noon and hadn't really caught up with herself since. She felt tired and dull, sick with apprehension about the task ahead.
Corwin moved into the shelter of an oak tree as rain began to spot the ground again. He watched Gabrielle canter up through the trees from the direction of the lake, the same route Montera had taken that morning. The ride had brought colour back into her cheeks and she looked magnificent.
She reined in as Corwin stepped into view. 'Oh, it's you.'
She dismounted and Corwin produced a number of prints of the photos he'd taken that morning and passed them to her.
'Have a look at those. I'll hold the horse.'
She looked at the first one. Corwin said, 'The small man is Juan Garcia. The big one is Donner and then Belov, the KGB man. Montera, of course, you know.'
She stared down at the photo, her stomach hollow, then glanced at the next one. 'That's Yanni Stavrou, Dormer's minder. Very rough customer.'
And then she came to the ones Corwin had taken of Montera running in the park and there was one, where he was at maximum effort, saturated with the pure joy of running, face clear, no pain there at all, and she was filled with such love for him that the sensation was almost unbearable.
She handed them back and took the reins of the horse. 'Are you all right?'
'Why shouldn't I be? When does Tony get in?'
'Around five o'clock. Harry Fox will be in before then. The Brigadier wants him to brief your husband thoroughly before he sees you.'
'He's not my husband, Mr Corwin,' Gabrielle said and pulled herself up into the saddle. 'A very elementary error on your part. People in our game can't afford errors, not even little ones.'
She was right, of course, Corwin knew that. Strange that he didn't feel any anger as he watched her canter