Exocet - Jack Higgins [76]
* * *
They skirted the back of one of the concrete huts and paused in its shelter, no more than ten yards from the tower. Villiers pointed to the steel ladder running up the outside of the tower to the balcony.
He moved forward, and holding the Walther ready in his right hand, started to climb. Albray waited until he was ten or fifteen feet up and then ran forward, opened the door at the base of the tower and went inside.
As he did so, Yanni Stavrou came round the final bend of the spiral staircase. The gun on his hip was holstered, but his reflexes were excellent. He took in Albray and his uniform in a split second, was already turning and running back out of sight as the sergeant fired his machine pistol. Albray, without the slightest hesitation, went after him.
* * *
Villiers was more than half way up the ladder when he heard the shooting from inside the tower. He paused, hanging on with one hand, the Walther in his other. He looked down and again everything moved in on him as that dreadful fear of heights returned.
The guards outside the fuel store were looking up, started to raise their weapons, and then Leclerc's men emerged from between two concrete huts opposite, firing as they came, cutting them down from behind.
Above Villiers the radio operator leaned over the rail, a machine pistol in his hand, and Villiers fired one-handed, the reflexes of hard training taking over, all fear leaving him. The man cried out and staggered back out of sight and Villiers started to climb again.
* * *
Donner ran to the window, drawing his revolver and looked out as firing erupted in the street.
Raul Montera laughed softly. 'I think that perhaps this time you've left things a little late, my friend.'
Donner didn't bother to reply, simply opened the door and peeped out. The three guards at the fuel store lay in the street outside and one of Leclerc's men was unlocking the door. There was gunfire at the other end of the street and he saw two of his men fleeing towards the harbour.
He closed the door, pulled Montera to his feet and pushed him into the kitchen at the rear. Totally without fear, he opened the back door. 'Now get moving!' he ordered, and he pushed Montera outside.
* * *
Villiers peered cautiously over the edge of the balcony but there was no one there except for the dead radio operator sprawled against the wall, the machine pistol on the floor beside him. Villiers picked up the machine pistol and moved to the door of the radio room which swung in the wind. There was no one there either.
There was a quick step behind him, he swung round, the machine pistol coming up as Stavrou paused in the doorway, an automatic in one hand. The look on Stavrou's face said everything, rage for a brief moment, then the cold calculation of the professional survivor. He assessed his chances against the machine pistol and made his decision. He laid down his automatic very carefully.
Villiers raised the machine pistol, finger tightening on the trigger and Stavrou smiled. 'Oh no you won't, Major Villiers. I mean, it wouldn't be British, would it? Playing fields of Eton and all that fair play stuff.'
Villiers moved in close. 'You mean I'm a gentleman?'
'Something like that.'
The bone-handled fisherman's gutting knife, which Stavrou had carried in his right sleeve for years, slipped into the palm of his hand, there was a click as his thumb found the button, the arm swept up, the blade streaking for the soft flesh beneath Villiers' chin.
And Villiers, anticipating just such a move, praying for it, dropped his machine pistol, blocked the arm with practised skill, grabbed for the wrist with both hands, twisting it cruelly so that Stavrou dropped the knife and cried out in pain. Villiers wrenched the arm round and up, still keeping that terrible hold in position, and this time Stavrou screamed as muscles tore, was still screaming as Villiers ran him headfirst through the door and out across