Exocet - Jack Higgins [82]
'Mother of God, even at this stage of the game they can't get the fuses right.'
* * *
In the operations room at Rio Gallegos, Donna Elena and Gabrielle sat by the stove. Lami Dozo stood at the window, peering out at the rain in the grey dawn light, drinking coffee. A young lieutenant came in, saluted and handed him a signal. The general read it, nodded, and the lieutenant went out.
Donna Elena said, 'You don't look happy. Is it bad news?'
'They hit the target. One Skyhawk down.'
'Not Raul?' Gabrielle said.
'No, not Raul. The last we heard, he and the other pilot were on their way back.'
* * *
Raul Montera burst out of cloud at four thousand feet and, still descending, followed the other Skyhawk which was going down fast, smoke pouring from it.
Montera, disregarding all procedure, called over the radio, 'Come in, Enrico. How bad is it?'
There was no reply and suddenly he saw a Sidewinder missile home in from nowhere. There was a tongue of flame that mushroomed into a fireball as the Skyhawk disintegrated.
A Harrier, that's all it could be. What lousy luck, for they had almost reached the limit of the Harrier's radius for a sea chase. He corkscrewed instantly, the reflex of much combat experience coming to his aid, and was aware of another Sidewinder spiralling madly away over on his right, plunging down towards the sea. A rogue missile whose directional equipment had gone haywire, a stroke of luck as the Harrier only carried two Sidewinders, which meant he now only had its 30 mm Aden cannons to contend with.
It swung in on his tail and the Skyhawk shuddered under the impact of cannon shell. The cockpit canopy disintegrated and Montera received a violent blow in his left arm and another in his right leg.
The Harrier swung in again and then it was the dream, only this time for real, the eagle descending, claws reaching out to destroy. Again he staggered under the impact of its cannon, it passed, banked to starboard and curved in on his tail to finish him off.
He was already down to a thousand feet and Gabrielle seemed to say in his ear what she had said the first time he'd had the dream in the flat in Kensington.
'Remember to drop your flaps. Eagles overshoot, too.'
And Montera did just that. It was like running into a solid wall and for a moment, he thought he'd lost power completely. The Harrier pilot had to take violent evasive action to avoid a collision, climbing fast and Montera seized his chance and went right down.
It was probably the most hazardous piece of flying he'd ever attempted as he levelled out at a hundred feet, for the wind was such that the sea was lifting in forty foot swells.
He looked up for his adversary, saw him high overhead. There was a crackle of static. A voice said in English over his radio, 'Good luck, whoever you are. You've earned it,' and the Harrier, at the limit of its radius, banked away, turned back towards the Falklands.
* * *
In the operations room Gabrielle dozed fitfully. Donna Elena and Lami Dozo stood by the window, smoking cigarettes.
'He's a fool, my son,' she said. 'You know that?'
'Of course, but thank God for fools like him. It's good for the rest of us to feel ashamed occasionally.'
The door opened and the young lieutenant hurried in again. Dozo snatched the signal from him and read it.
'We've lost another Skyhawk but Raul is still with us. About fifty miles out.'
Gabrielle sat up, rubbing her eyes. 'Is there any news?'
'Yes,' Lami Dozo said. 'Donna Elena will explain. Stay here, both of you,' and he opened the door and went outside.
* * *
The Skyhawk came in low over the sea at five hundred feet, the wind whistling through the shattered cockpit. Raul Montera was a dreadful sight, his face smeared with blood from numerous cuts caused by the disintegration of the canopy, one arm and leg of his yellow flying suit now scarlet. He sat there, hands frozen to the column, a slight fixed smile on his face as he came into Rio Gallegos