Eye of the Needle - Ken Follett [47]
The captain was looking a shade doubtful. “What’s in that canvas bag?”
“Binoculars, a camera, and a reference book.” Faber’s hand went to the bag.
“No, you don’t,” the captain said. “Look inside it, Watson.”
There it was—the amateur’s error.
Watson said, “Raise your hands.”
Faber raised his hands above his head, his right hand close to the left sleeve of his jacket. Faber choreographed the next few seconds—there must be no gunfire.
Watson came up on Faber’s left side, pointing the shotgun at him, and opened the flap of Faber’s canvas bag. Faber drew the stiletto from his sleeve, moved inside Watson’s guard, and plunged the knife into Watson’s neck up to the hilt. Faber’s other hand twisted the shotgun out of the young man’s grasp.
The other two soldiers on the bank moved toward him, and the corporal began to crash down through the branches of the oak.
Faber tugged the stiletto out of Watson’s neck as the man collapsed to the ground. The captain was fumbling at the flap of his holster. Faber leaped into the well of the boat. It rocked, sending the captain staggering. Faber struck at him with the knife, but the man was too far away for an accurate thrust. The point caught in the lapel of his uniform jacket, then jerked up, slashing his chin. His hand came away from the holster to clutch the wound.
Faber whipped around to face the bank. One of the soldiers jumped. Faber stepped forward and held his right arm out rigidly. The leaping soldier impaled himself on the eight-inch stiletto.
The impact knocked Faber off his feet, and he lost his grip on the stiletto. The soldier fell on top of the weapon. Faber got to his knees; there was no time to retrieve the stiletto, the captain was opening his holster. Faber jumped at him, his hands going for the officer’s face. The gun came out. Faber’s thumbs gouged at the eyes of the captain, who screamed in pain and tried to push Faber’s arms aside.
There was a thud as the fourth guardsman landed in the well of the boat. Faber turned from the captain, who would now be unable to see to fire his pistol even if he could get the safety off. The fourth man held a policeman’s truncheon; he brought it down hard. Faber shifted to the right so that the blow missed his head and caught his left shoulder. His left arm momentarily went nerveless. He chopped the man’s neck with the side of his hand, a powerful, accurate blow. Amazingly the man survived it and brought his truncheon up for a second swipe. Faber closed in. The feeling returned to his left arm, and it began to hurt mightily. He took the soldier’s face in both his hands, pushed, twisted, and pushed again. There was a sharp crack as the man’s neck broke. At the same instant the truncheon landed again, this time on Faber’s head. He reeled away, dazed.
The captain bumped into him, still staggering. Faber pushed him. His cap went flying as he stumbled backward over the gunwale and fell into the canal with a huge splash.
The corporal jumped the last six feet from the oak tree onto the ground. Faber retrieved his stiletto from the impaled guard and leaped to the bank. Watson was still alive, but it would not be for long—blood was pumping out of the wound in his neck.
Faber and the corporal faced each other. The corporal had a gun.
He was understandably terrified. In the seconds it had taken him to climb down the oak tree this man had killed three of his mates and thrown the fourth into the canal.
Faber looked at the gun. It was old—almost like a museum piece. If the corporal had any confidence in it, he would already have fired it.
The corporal took a step forward, and Faber noticed that he favored his right leg—perhaps he had hurt it coming out of the tree. Faber stepped sideways, forcing the corporal to put his weight on the weak leg as he swung to keep his gun on the target. Faber got the toe of his shoe under a stone and kicked upward. The corporal’s attention flicked to the stone, and Faber moved.
The corporal pulled the trigger; nothing happened. The old gun had jammed. Even if it had fired, he would have missed