James Bond - Win Lose Or Die Part 18

'Oh. yes. Frisk him. Daphne.' The blonde with the feverish eyes had that tough, rather butch manner that you often found in service women. It did not mean that they were different from other females, but it came with the job. Soft girls hardened under military discipline.

Daphne frisked him. Very thoroughly. Bond thought, for she lingered around his crotch. A genuine FCP, he said to himself.

Finally they unlocked the cuffs, slid the bars in place and locked him away.

'Someone'll have to bring you food, I suppose,' the blonde said, her voice irritated at the thought. 'Don't know how long that'll be, we're pretty heavily stretched.'

'I can wait.' Bond said politely, knowing that whatever they brought him would be well laced with (heir new coneoction of basie chloral hydrate.

Alone now. he had decisions to make. This lime he really was on his own. Up the proverbial creek without a paddle. No hidden weapons: nothing spectacular from Q Branch. Just himself, his skills, and the absolute necessity to get away.

About one hundred miles to the north-west of Rota, the freighter Esiado Novo had stopped her engines, and the sides of the fake crate were being lowered to display the stolen Sea Harrier.

Felipe Pantano fussed around. There was a lot of arm-waving, and a good deal of shouting and talking, as he supervised the arming and refuelling of the jet. He was being given his chance. Today he would see action for BAST and the thought never occurred to him that he just might not get back to the freighter alive. After all. the whole thing was fool-proof.

n.o.body on any of the other ships from the Task Force would challenge a Royal Navy Sea Harrier, and by the time he had done his work, he would be streaking back to the Estado Novo with the throttle fully open. It was certainly a great day for him. The one word message. Dispatch, which had come in clearly by radio, had changed the entire pattern of his life.

To put it simply, Felipe Pantano was an excited man.

In Gibraltar, Baradj had been loath to send the Dispatch signal to the Estado Novo, but the American State Department, the British Foreign Office and the Kremlin had left him no alternative. Fools, he thought, they do not know what they're dealing with. So he sent the signal - a telephone call to London, as before, another telephone call from his people in London to the registered owners of the ship in Oporto, and the signal sent buried in a longer message, direct from the owners.

Altogether, Baradj was pleased with the way in which he had organised the messages, by short 'phone calls from himself, to longer calls from his London people, who used pay 'phones and stolen credil cards - recently stolen: which meant purloined less than an hour before the calls went out. The communications were untraceable, which, once more, put him in the clear.

Baradj sat in his room at The Rock Hotel, just five minutes or so from the famous monkeys which inhabited their own territory of the Rock and were all known by name (o their keepers. All of the monkeys had names, and were identifiable. Baradj found it a strange, and unnatural trait in the British that they allowed one pair of them to be called Charles and Di, and another twosome, Andy and Fergie. This was almost treason to the British Royal Family. Baradj considered. He had a great love of the British Royal Family - which meant that Baradj would really have liked to have been born into a different kind of background. It also meant that he was trying to buy himself into the aristocracy: via terrorist activities.

Well, he thought, the balloon would go up soon enough. They would see. in less than two hours now, that they weren't playing with any old terrorist outfit. Oh. he thought, the books are correct: it is very lonely at the top of the chain of command, One of his great troubles at this moment was that he had n.o.body to talk to. He had, in fact, been reduced to making quick, almost nonsensical calls to other members of the organisation, uninvolved in the present operation.

Finally, Baradj decided to call in his last lieutenant, Ali Al Adwan whom he had left quietly in Rome. The call was to be his undoing, for the monitors in the whole area of Spanish coastal waters, had. as the jargon would say, unwaxed their ears: which meant they were listening out with extreme diligence.

'p.r.o.nto,' Adwan answered the telephone in his Rome hotel.

'Health depends on strength,' said Ba.s.sam Baradj.

They picked up Ali Al Adwan an hour later outside the hotel, on his way to the airport.

It was decided, at very high level, to let Baradj remain as a sleeping dog. After all, they could monitor his telephone calls, and even run complete surveillance on him.

James Bond had decided his only chance was to make a move when they brought his food. If he ate or drank anything it would be curtains, or at least some heavy gauze that would leave him junked out for a few days.

It was going to be very dangerous, for they would never think of sending a girl down on her own. There would be a guard, and he would have to deal with ihe situation on the hoof. Time ticked away: half an hour; an hour. Then, at 14.30. he heard the lock on the outer door click open.

"Room Service.' It was the unpleasant voice of Donald Speaker, who. a second later, appeared in front of the bars, a tray in one hand, keys and a Browning 9mm in the other. Bond though! it was probably his own Browning. On the tray was a plate of cold cuts and salad, with a large mug of steaming coffee next to ii.

'I might have known you'd turn coat.'

'Oh. I had it turned a long time ago, James Bond. Money isn't everything, but it helps the world go round. I'm not a political traitor: just avaricious.' He skilfully operated the key in (he lock and Bond relaxed, trying to work out the best, and safest, move.

*Anyway." Speaker continued, 'you can't expect these girls to do it all. Girls can't do a man's job.' He slid back the barred entrance and stood in the opening, the tray held by his left hand and balanced on his righl wrist, the Browning held tightly and pointing directly at Bond, a mite too steadily for comfort. 'Just step right back against the wall. Move fast if you like, ll would be a great pleasure to kill you.'

Til do it slowly and correctly,' Bond smiled. Tin not quite ready for the chop yet.' He took one short step backwards, then made his move. Swivelling to his right, out of the Browning's deadly eye, he turned and brought his left leg up in a shattering kick al the tray.

His aim was slightly off. but the effect was what he wanted for the kick lifted the tray at almost the correct point, bringing the steaming mug of coffee up in a scalding spray, straight over Speaker's face.

The interrogator's reaction was one of the most natural things Bond had ever seen. First, he dropped both tray and gun; second his hands flew up to his face; third, and concurrent with Ihe first two. Speaker screamed - loudly and painfully.

Bond stepped in, grabbing at the Browning, twisting as he did so. aiming a heavy chop with ihe gun b.u.t.t at the base of Speaker's skull.

'Coffee,' Bond whispered to himself, "can insiantly damage your health.' He was outside, sliding the gate closed, locking it and removing the keys.

He went through the outer door wiih care. There was n.o.body in the pa.s.sageway, so he locked the door, and moved along the pa.s.sage until he came to the first companion-way which he went up at speed. He had one great advantage over the Wrens: one of the first things any officer does when reporting aboard a new ship is to make certain he knows the lay-out, and the best and quickest route to follow between any two points. Bond had spent almost an entire day learning the pa.s.sages, bulkheads, companionways and catwalks of Invincible. He knew the way to the nearest heads which had ports above sea level, and he made this his first stop, uns.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the tugs on one of the ports and hurling the key to the cells far out into the sea.

He moved as quickly as possible, taking great pains, stopping from time to time to listen for any sign of life. Wrens, he thought, should normally be identifiable at distance, but Clover Pennington's Wrens had obviously been subjected to special training. There were also only fifteen of them, and they would have to be well spread out across the ship.

He was making his way to the Crew Room in the for'ard part of the island, at main deck level. He moved by the fastest means, by-pa.s.sing the more obvious places where Clover would have people posted. It was now 14.45, so. with luck, they would all be below the main deck and off the island, as they had been instructed.

It was as though the entire ship was deserted, for he saw n.o.body in his journey, and it was only when he got to the Crew Room that he realised Clover had left one girl on deck; though, he figured, she would have to get below on the dot of three.

The door to the main deck was open, and the girl had her back Inwards him. It was the tall, tough blonde Leading Wren who had taken him to the cells, and it was obviously her turn with the H & e 5 SD3. She held it as though it was her child, which was a bad sign with terrorists. Women of this persuasion were taughi to regard their personal weapon as their child: and that was not just terrorism according to the top people's espionage novelist. It was for real.

He looked around the Crew Room and finally found a G-suit and helmet which were roughly his size. Two-fifty in the afternoon. From the bulkhead door he could still see the Leading Wren, and behind her the Sea Harriers, the first of the four aircraft right on the ski-ramp, with one machine behind it, and a pair of others parked abreast. They were all obviously ready and armed, for the ribbons hung from the Sidewinders, slung under the wings.

Standing to one side of the bulkhead, his hack to the deck. Bond put up the visor of his helmet and whistled loudly.

There was movement from the deck, so the Leading Wren had heard and been alerted. He whistled, shrilly again, and heard the answerhig footsteps as she crossed towards the Crew Room door. The footsteps stopped, and he could imagine that she was standing, uncertain, the H & e tucked into her hip and the safety off.

When she came, she moved quickly and was inside the Crew Room almost before Bond was ready for her. The only piece of luck that came his way was the fact that she moved to the right first, which is normal in right-handed people, and exactly why Bond had staked himself to the left, from her viewpoint on the main deck.

His arm went around her neck. This was one of those times when it did not pay to be squeamish, or to even think about what he was doing. He only wished that it had been the psycho, Deeley.

She dropped the machine pistol, trying to claw at his arms, but Bond had already done the damage. Left arm around the neck from behind; push in hard; reach over and grasp the left biceps with the right hand, so that his right forearm went across her forehead. Now the pressure: fast, very hard, and lethal. He heard the neck go, and felt her weight in sudden death. Then he grabbed at the H & e and ran out onto the deck, slipping ihe H & e to Safe, ducking under the wings of the aircraft until he reached (he one on the ski-ramp. He went right around the aircraft, checking all control surfaces were free, nipping (he warning ribbons from the Sidewinders, and pulling the caps off the front of the Aden gun pods.

The generator was in place, plugged in. He paused for a second, undecided. He could leave it in and be certain that he could start the engine first lime, or unplug and hope to h.e.l.l there was enough charge on board. If he took the first option, there was danger in the iake-off, with the generator cable still attached. He took the second way and unplugged the cord, then ran around the aircraft, climbing into the c.o.c.kpit. As he lowered himself into the seat he imagined he could hear the sound of another aircraft. He clipped the straps on and hauled down so that he was tighily secured. He lowered the canopy, and pressed ihe ignition, going through the -take-off drill in his head.

As he pressed the ignition, so there was a huge roar. Flame speared up from somewhere behind him. and he could hear the heavy thump of 30mm sh.e.l.ls. .h.i.tting parked aircraft and the deck around him.

As the engine fired, so (he shape crossed directly over him. A Sea Harrier, very low. almosl hugging the sea as it did a tighl turn, pulling a lot of G, to circle and come in again.

18.

In at the Kill

He did not really know if this was a full, co-ordinated attack on Invincible, but, in the last seconds, logic told him exactly what it was - the fireworks promised by BAST if the 15.00 hours deadline was not met.

Take-off check: brakes on; flaps OUT; ASI 'bug' to lift-off speed. As always, the aircraft was alive, trembling to the idling of the Rolls-Royce turbofan.

Nozzle lever set to short take-off position at the 50" stop mark; throttle to fifty-five per cent RPM; brakes off; throttle banged into fully open, and there it was, the giant hand pressing at his chest and face.

The Sea Harrier snarled off the ramp. Gear 'Up'- ASI 'bug' flashing and beeping: nozzles to horizontal flight; flaps to IN. The HUD showing the climbing angle, right on 60, and a speed of f>40 knots.

Bond broke left, standing on one wing as he pulled a seven G turn, the nose dropping slightly, then coming up with a twitch of the rudder. One thousand feet, and to his right he saw Invincible, the aircraft and helicopters on her deck ablaze. Gas tanks going up to produce spectacular blooms of fire, and the other aircraft, low, almost down to the water, then putting her nose up and pulling into a hard, left turn.

Bond reached the outer edge of the turn, flipped the aircraft into a right-hand break, harder this time, his left foot pushing down on the rudder to keep level, then back on the stick to gain height as a bleep started to pulse loud in his headphones, and the trace on the radar showing another aircraft locking on behind him - behind and above.

He pulled back on the stick, put the nose towards the sky, and heard the rasping noise that warned a missile had been released. His mind grabbed at the recent past, and the missile fired at him near the bombing range close to the Isle of Man. That could have only been an AIM-9J Sidewinder. As close as this, a superior A1M-9L Sidewinder would have followed him to impact.

He punched out three Hares, set his own HUD to air-to-air weapons, and flung the aircraft onto its back, easing up on the stick and feeling the red-out as the horizon disappeared below him and the sea came rushing up to meet him as he took the Harrier through an inverted roll.

The rasping beep disappeared, and the horizon came up again. The flares had done their job. but he could not see the other Harrier and he was down to 2.000 feet again.

Turning in a wide full 360. Bond searched sky and sea with his eyes, flicking to and fro between the view from his c.o.c.kpit to the radar screen. In the far distance Invincible'^ deck was still littered with burning aircraft, and he thought he caught sight of a yellow fire bulldozer being handled in an attempt to clear the deck of the ravished hulks of 'planes and helicopters. Then he caught the flash, on the radar, far away, thirty or so miles out to sea. The flashing dot began to wink and he adjusted his course, losing height and slamming the throttles to full power. trying to lock on io the other Sea Harrier, obviously intent on making its getaway, and evading chase.

He was pushing The Harrier to its outer limits of speed, making a shallow dive towards the sea and keeping his course level with the flashing cursor on the radar screen. Without any conscious thought he knew who he was up against: knew it was (he Sea Harrier which had gone missing on ihe day he had nearly had a missile up his six. The pilot could only be the Spaniard, though, at this moment, with (he sea flashing below him and his eyes flicking between instruments and the horizon, he could not have named him.

In seconds. Bond realised he was, in fact, gaining on the other Harrier which was about twenty miles ahead of him now. He armed one of the Sidewinders, waiting for the lock-on signal, for he might soon be in range. Then the blinking cursor vanished.

There was a slight time-lag before Bond realised the other pilot had probably pulled up to gain height, rolled over and was high above him now. heading back towards him. He lifted the nose, allowing the radar to search the air, and, sure enough, the second Harrier was above and closing.

He put the aircraft into a gentle climb, all his senses jangling and ready for the rasp or the beep which would tell him the Spaniard had released a second missile the moment he came within range - the pilot's name returned to his memory without any conscious thought - Pantano.

Fifteen miles, and the aircraft were closing at a combined speed of around 1.200 knots. Seconds later, the marker on the HUD began to pulse and the beep in his ears told him he had locked on.

Bond released the Sidewinder, and saw the flashing cursor break to his left. The rasp came into his own ears, and he knew they had both fired missiles at the same momenl.

He punched out four flares and turned left, climbing. Seconds later there was an explosion behind at about a mile. Pantano's missile had gone for the flares. Then, without warning Bond's aircraft shuddered and cracked as 30mm sh.e.l.ls ripped into the fuselage behind him.

He stood the Harrier on its left wing, then reversed to the right. Pantano had Viffed. slightly above him and at a range of around 1.000 feel. Bond armed another Sidewinder, heard the lock-on signal, and pressed the b.u.t.ton. As he did so, another withering hail of 30mm sh.e.l.ls ripped across his left wing and the Harrier juddered again, wallowed, then seemed to leap forward towards the great blossom of fire as the Sidewinder caught Pantano's Harrier.

It was like a slow-motion film. One minute the aircraft was there, firing a deadly swarm from its Aden guns, then the white flash filled Bond's vision and he saw the 'plane break into a dozen pieces.

He overshot the destroyed Harrier, and saw only one complete wing, twirling and fluttering down like a deformed autumn leaf. He reduced speed and turned, 10 set course for the coast, and as he did so. his Harrier grumbled, juddering and shaking. He fought the controls, realising that he had no true stability. The sh.e.l.ls from the Aden guns had probably ripped away pan of his elevators, and a section of tailplane.

Alt.i.tude 10,000 feet and falling. The Harrier was in a gentle descent and Bond could just about hold her nose at a five-to- ten-degree angle. He was between twenty and thirty miles from the coast and losing height rapidly, hauling back continuously on the stick to stop the nose from dropping and the entire aircraft hurtling into a dive from which he could never recover.

The engine sounded as though someone had poured a ton of sand into it. and he had switched on the auto-signal which would allow the base af Rota to (rack him in. He was down to 3.000 feel before he saw the coast in the distance, and by then the whole Harrier was shaking and clanking around him as though it was about to break up at any minute. The sink-rate was becoming faster, and Bond knew there was only one thing left. He would have to punch out. and pray that the sh.e.l.ls from the other Harrier had not damaged the Martin Baker ejector seat.

He wrestled with the stick and rudder bar. desperately trying to get the aircraft closer to the coast before getting out. The voice in his head started to repeat the procedure and what was supposed to happen.

The Martin Baker was a Type 9A Mark 2 and the firing handle was between his legs, at the Front of the seat pan. One pull and. provided everything worked, the canopy would blow and the seat would begin its journey upwards at minimum velocity, before the rocket-a.s.sist tired and shot the pilot, restrained in his seat, well clear of the aircraft.

The comforting words of some instructor at Yeovitton came back to him. 'The seat will save you even at zero height, and with a very high sink rate.'

Well, he had a very high sink rate now. down to about 1.000 feet and at least seven miles from the coast. The Harrier wallowed, down to around 800 feet. His port wing dropped alarmingly, and he realised that he was at the point of stalling. Almost at that moment he caught the glint of helicopter blades, and realised it was now or never. Yet. in the few seconds before reaching down to the ejector handle. Bond pushed the port rudder hard, in an attempt to swing the aircraft away from the coast. He did not want this melal brick, still carrying dangerous weaponry, to plough into the land. The nose swung wildly, then dropped.

He knew the nose would never come up again, and he felt the lurch forward as the Harrier began what could only be a death dive.

Bond pulled on the ejector lever.

For what seemed to be an eternity nothing happened, then he felt the slight kick in his backside, saw the canopy leap upwards. The air was like a solid wall as the rocket shot him clear of the falling, crippled Harrier. There was a thump and the sudden slight jar as the parachute opened and he was swinging safe and free below the canopy.

Below to his left he saw the white churning water which marked the spot where the Harrier had gone in. Then he heard die comforting sound of the US rescue chopper nearby.

He was now separated from the seal, and seemed to be dropping faster towards the sea, which came up and exploded around him. The buoyancy gear inflated and brought him to the surface as he twisted and banged down on (he quick release lock which freed him from any parachute drag.

The helicopter plucked him out of the sea five minutes later.

It was early evening and the weather had picked up, the sun red. throwing long shadows across USNB Rota.

Bond sat in a small room, with a US Marine Corps Major, a Royal Marine Special Boat Squadron Major. Commander Mike Carter and Beat rice. On the table in frontof them lay a complete set of plans, showing the layout of Invincible.

An hour before, he had received a complete briefing, on a secure line from London. BAST had given them until dawn, around six in the morning. Then they would kill the first of the VIP hostages. They knew the message had been relayed to London from Ba.s.sam Baradj in his suite at The Rock Hotel, Gibraltar.

Varied options had been put forward. The Rock Hotel was well-covered. They had members of the SAS and local plain-clothes men. plus one senior Secret Intelligence Service man, watching out in case Baradj made a move. At first it had been thought they should make a full frontal and pull Baradj. for they knew he had a helicopter and pilot standing by at the airport. n.o.body had attempted to alert Baradj or his pilot, and the final consensus of opinion was that trying to take Baradj alive was dangerous.

'Remove their leader and those women will almost certainly kill.' That was M's personal view, and one shared by Bond.

Baradj had given them a lat.i.tude and longitude, a precise point at sea where the money had to be dropped and marked. If anyone approached him during or after the pick-up - which was to be by helicopter, all three hostages would be killed.

'Whatever else.' Bond had said, 'he's thought out the operation, and we just cannot risk taking the fellow on the Rock. If we couldn't gel him alive, it would be curtains for Mrs T. Gorby and President Bush/ It had now been agreed that a rescue attempt had to be made long before anyone tried to gel hold of Baradj. 'We can con Baradj that we're meeting the deadline, let him relax, then make a bid to get the hostages off/ Bond's was the last word. The Ministry of Defence. SIS. the Pentagon and Ihe Kremlin had agreed to a last-ditch rescue attempt. The local forces had also agreed that the planning and logistics should be left to Bond. 'Has anyone figured out how Baradj is communicating with InvincibleT he asked.

'He isn't.' Mike Carter had said. 'I suspect he'll flash them a code word. A one time break in silence. Probably on a short wave from Gib. It'll mean either they're to stand by because we've agreed, or kill, because we've not agreed. Then there's the other one - kill, we've double-crossed him.'

'All we can do is listen out/ Bond's jaw had set, and his eyes turned to that dangerous stone-like look as he tried to gauge how many things could go wrong.

Now. in the low hut on the USNB Rota, he was going through possible strategy and tactics. 'It has to be a small force/ He looked around the room. 'I took out one of these harpies, which leaves them with fourteen-fifteen if the wretched man Speaker is active; sixteen if Baradj's side-kick, Hamarik. is able to function, which 1 very much doubt. The situation will almost certainly be that their tame psycho, the woman posing as Leading Wren Deeley, will he locked in with Ihe hostages - or. at least, close to them, with orders to start killing on a given signal. So, our first job will be to get down here/ His ringer moved to the Briefing Room one deck down from the main deck. This we must do without being detected if possible/ Then he gave a worried sigh. 'I want you all to realise that I'm really only guessing. That Briefing Room is the place where they were having the conference meetings. I'd stake money on the three of ihem being kept in (here, possibly wiih a guard on the bulkhead door. But it's stilt only a guess. If I'm wrong and they're being held somewhere else, then it'll go wrong and I'll lake the blame.'

'But you believe that's our main target?" the SBS Major nodded.

'Yes. We have to take the risk. The quickest way down is through the Flight Crew Room which is here.' He pointed to the bulkhead door he had used to get to the Harrier. It seemed days ago now, not just a handful of hours.

'So. before we decide on tactics, how many people do you think we need?' The SBS Major was putting on a little pressure, and Bond knew il. Behind the dedication of elite forces, there was always a desire to be in at the kill, to take credit. They were really in the hands of the United States Navy, so Bond had to make a very careful choice. He also had to make it with confidence and speed.

They're fourteen, maybe fifteen. I don't think we have to go by the odds.' He locked eyes, first, with the US Marines Major and then with the Royal Marines Major from the Special Boat Squadron. lead. We draw up the main plan together. I want five of your Marines, Major, and five SBS, Major," turning to each man as he spoke. They both nodded solemnly. "As for weapons, well, there's likely to be killing - regretful, but I see no other way - and I think some of that killing's got to be silent. Have we any hand-guns with silencers?'

It was Mike Carter who answered. 'We can provide Brownings and H & Ks with modified noise reduction units.'

'Right,' Bond nodded. 'Everyone will carry either a Browning or an H & K. I want one man from each unit to be armed with a sub-machine-gun. Any H & e MP5s. Mike?'

'MP5s, 5Ks, Uzis, you name it, we got it.'

"K-Bar knives for the US Marines; usual Sykes-Fairbaim for SBS. Flash-bangs?' he asked Carter, meaning stun grenades.

'Whatever you need.'