Exocet - Jack Higgins [60]
The young man who stood there was of medium height with a weak, sullen face. He badly needed a shave. His clothes were too large for him and his hair poked untidily from beneath the cap. He held a double-barrelled shotgun in both hands.
'What do you want?' she said.
He ran a hand across his mouth, his eyes glittering as they looked her over. 'Oh, no. That's what I ask you. I'm supposed to guard this estate.'
'I see.' She leaned back on the table. 'What's your name?'
He grinned. 'That's more friendly. It's Paul. Paul Gaubert.'
She brushed past him and went outside. 'Heh, come here,' he called, as he ran after her and caught her by the right arm.
She said, 'Don't be stupid. I'm a guest of Monsieur Donner's.'
She pulled her arm free and sent him away with a vigorous shove of both hands. He staggered back for a moment, gaping in astonishment and, suddenly, there was only anger there. He dropped the shotgun and grabbed at her and she put her knee into his groin.
Donner and Montera came over the top of the small hill above the lake in time to witness the whole scene, including the timely arrival of Villiers, although at that distance they could not see the cold fury in his eyes as one hand fastened on Paul Gaubert's collar, the other on his belt. Villiers turned him round and ran him headfirst into the lake. The boy went under, came up gasping out of the shallows and up the bank.
'Gaubert!' Donner cried as he ran down the hill with Montera.
The youth glanced over his shoulder, a look of terror on his face, and took to his heels.
Villiers said to Gabrielle. 'Are you all right?'
'Fine,' she said, 'but could we change the script? This sort of thing's beginning to get a trifle monotonous. And watch yourself, we've got company.'
'I'm an Irishman on holiday staying at a bungalow not far from here. Michael O'Hagan.'
The Irish situation had forced the SAS to develop a language laboratory system teaching regional Irish accents to their men. Villiers could sound as if he'd been born and bred within five miles of Crossmaglen and Michael O'Hagan was an alias he had used before.
Montera arrived on the run, full of concern. 'Gabrielle, are you all right?'
'Yes, thanks to this gentleman.'
'O'Hagan,' Villiers said cheerfully in English. 'Michael O'Hagan.'
'I want to thank you, sir.' Donner took his hand. 'Felix Donner. This is my place, by the way, and this is Mr Montera and the lady you rescued is Miss Legrand. The creature who attacked Miss Legrand is a gipsy called Gaubert. I allowed a band of them to stay on the estate, which shows what happens when you treat people like that as human beings.'
'Happy to know you,' Villiers said.
'Just where did you come from exactly, Mr O'Hagan?'
'Just up there where the trees flank the road.' Villiers pointed. 'I was looking at the map, trying to get my bearings when I saw that character obviously trailing Miss Legrand. The rest, as they say, you know.'
'We certainly do. You're staying near here?'
There was little point in trying to pretend otherwise. Villiers said, 'At a little bungalow up the road with a friend. We're on a motoring tour of Brittany.'
He had tried to sound simple, open and ingenuous, and appeared to have succeeded. Donner said, 'Come back and have a drink with us.'
Villiers said, 'That's very nice of you, but perhaps some other time. I'm already later than I said I would be.'
Donner persisted. 'Join us for dinner tonight, then. Bring your friend.'
'I don't really have any decent clothes with me,' Villiers said, keeping up the image.
'Doesn't matter. All totally informal. Bring your friend.'
'All right. I can't speak for him though. He might have other plans.'
'Seven-thirty for eight.'
Villiers turned and walked briskly away. Montera said, 'Lucky he was around.'
'Yes, wasn't it?' Donner replied, frowning slightly.
* * *
At the bungalow, Villiers shaved and had a shower. When he went into the kitchen