Exocet - Jack Higgins [49]
'He used to pray to the Virgin on his knees, just before going into the bullring. Save me from the horns of the beasts, he used to say. I've gone to the horns many times during the past few weeks.'
'Why, Raul? Why?'
'Because it's what I do. I fly. It's also what I am, and down there, there was no choice. Could I sit at a desk while those boys went to hell on their own? You know what we called Falkland Sound? Death Valley.'
His eyes were fixed, the skin stretched tightly over the cheekbones. 'In the bullring, they have a red door - the door the bulls come through. It's called the Gate of Fear. Death comes through that gate, Gabrielle, a black beast who is dedicated to the idea of killing me. When I flew to San Carlos, the only thing which kept that door closed was you. Once at one of my worst moments, when she wouldn't respond to the controls, I was getting ready to eject when I swear I smelt that Opium perfume you use. Crazy, perhaps, but it was as if you were with me.'
'What happened?'
All strain went out of him. 'I'm here, aren't I?' He smiled. 'I should have had a photo in the cockpit and written underneath the words: "I'm Gabrielle - Fly me". You can give me one to take back.'
'Take back?' She was shocked. 'You're not going back down there to fly again?'
He shrugged evasively. 'I'll be here for a few days more. I don't know what happens when I return.'
'What are you doing here?'
'Business for my government.' In a way, he was telling her the truth. 'The arms embargo which the French imposed is giving us problems. But enough of that. What about you?'
'I'm doing a series for Paris Match.'
'Supported by that estimable father of yours?'
'Of course.'
'Yes. A Degas on one wall, a Monet on the other.'
She slid on to her knees and kissed him on the mouth very, very softly, her tongue savouring him. 'I'd forgotten just how gorgeous you are.'
'That word again,' he mocked her. 'Can't you think of something else?'
'Not right now, but take me to bed and I'll try.'
* * *
Later, lying there in the half-light, the curtains partly drawn, she leaned on an elbow and watched him as he slept. His face tightened, there was pain there, he groaned and suddenly there was sweat on his forehead and he opened his eyes, wide, staring.
She smoothed back his hair from his forehead and kissed him, gently, like a child. 'It's all right. I'm here.'
He smiled weakly. 'I had the dream again. I've had it so often. Remember, I told you, that time at your flat in London.'
'An eagle descending,' she said.
'That's right, coming down hard, claws reaching.'
'Well just remember what I told you. Drop your flaps. Eagles overshoot too.'
He pulled her close, kissed her neck. 'God, you smell good. Warm, womanly - or am I being sexist in saying that? I'm never too sure of my position with you feminists.'
'Oh, I'll explain your position in considerable detail.' She smiled beautifully and ran a finger down his arm. 'I'm Gabrielle - fly me!'
* * *
She came awake again and found him gone. The sensation of panic was terrible. She sat up and glanced at the bedside clock. It was four o'clock. Then he came in, wearing the old black tracksuit and carrying a newspaper.
'I found it in your letter box.'
He sat on the edge of the bed and opened it. 'Anything interesting?' she asked.
'Yes, British forces have broken out of the San Carlos bridgehead. Sky hawks attacked the troops on land. Two shot down.' He threw down the paper and ran his hands over his face. 'Let's go for a walk.'
'All right. Give me five minutes.'
He waited in the sitting room, smoking a cigarette, and when she joined him, she was wearing the jeans and reefer coat he remembered from London.
They went downstairs and got her car and drove to the Bois de Boulogne. Then they simply walked, holding hands, quiet a great deal of the time.
'You're looking better and more relaxed,' she said.
'Well, that's you.' They were sitting on two deck chairs someone had left out in the rain. 'Some people like drugs, some people like booze, but I'm on Gabrielle, much more efficacious.'
She leaned