`We have to replace that light of yours with our green light. Immediately! It identifies us to a swarm of Danish marksmen floating around in dinghies.' While Lane removed the green bulb and substituted it for his own light, Tweed forced the beeper device off the side of the dinghy, wetted the suckers in the sea, attached it to the hull of the launch.
`A powerboat is roaring around somewhere in the fog,' reported Lane. 'One of your Danish friends' boats?'
`No. Certainly not as far as I'm aware.'
Tweed found the news disturbing. The launch was under way again as he asked his question.
`Did you hear a light aircraft flying down the coast?' `Yes, I did. I assumed it was checking out the lie of the land. Again, belonging to the Danish lot.'
`Norlin – the head of the strike force – decided not to fly in choppers until later so as not to alert the opposition.
I'm sure he wouldn't risk a light aircraft. It flew about fifty feet above the colony of bungalows – where we expect the Stealth ships to land more saboteurs.'
`So, a mystery powerboat, preceded by mystery plane. A weird business,' Lane reflected. 'And I think one of your people has seen something…'
Tweed swung round. Paula had positioned herself at the prow of the launch. She was alternately pointing to something in the fog, looking over her shoulder to beckon to Tweed. He ran forward with Marler at his heels.
`There's something large and very close.' She saw the sceptical expression on the face of Lane who had joined them. 'Don't look at me like that! Use your bloody eyes…'
The fog drifted away. A huge grey shape like that of a half-submerged giant whale appeared. Standing on the curved hull Dr Wand stared down at them. He snatched an automatic weapon from a man close to him, aimed it point-blank at Tweed.
Everything happened like a film running fast. The sound of a powerboat roaring in on the port side, stopping suddenly. A second before Wand sprayed them with a hail of bullets, Tweed fired his Walther, gripped in both hands, twice. Wand's right arm fell limp, the weapon tumbled to the deck. The shots flew harmlessly into the air. There were two more shots fired from the direction where the powerboat had stopped. Wand was hurled backwards against the low-profile bridge.
`That was a. 45 gun,' said Newman, now behind them.
The powerboat's engine started up. As Tweed glanced to his left it disappeared into the fog, only its wake visible as it headed towards the shore. Lane grasped Tweed's arm.
`Look! To starboard. The Minotaur…'
The frigate was less than a quarter of a mile away where the fog had temporarily cleared. It was racing forward as they heard Wilson's order to the Stealth ship magnified over a powerful tannoy.
`Lane, stand well clear. Now!' The launch was under way at high speed in seconds. At the prow they hung on to the rail to avoid being flung overboard. The tannoy blast was addressing the Stealth vessels now in Wilson's commanding voice. 'Heave to. We are coming aboard. Any hostile act will receive a hundred-fold retaliation…'
Inside the bridge of the Mao III Welensky was shouting at Kim, who stood in front of the console.
`It's over. Keep away from that goddamn console.' `Prepare to fire,' Kim ordered.
The Minotaur, which had been broadside on to the Mao, was turning swiftly, presenting now only the smallest possible target, its prow. Kim jabbed his thick thumb down to press the button. Welensky's weighty bulk collided against him, knocking him away from the control panel. It only took seconds. A knife appeared in Kim's hand, was rammed deep into Welensky's side. He staggered away. Kim jabbed his thumb down on the button – but it was seconds later. The missile soared out of its silo, sped towards its pre-selected target, a target which had now moved its position.
The missile exploded under the sea, fifty yards or so away from the Minotaur. Tug Wilson didn't hesitate. In a calm brisk voice he gave the order.
`Fire!'
A single missile whooshed through the foggy air, landed on the prow of the Mao. A perfect hit. On top of the bank of missile silos. There was a tremendous explosion. The shockwave swept across the sea, shaking the launch where Paula was hurrying back to the stern, gripping the handrail, followed by Tweed and Marler. Butler and Nield had already arrived there.
During the frantic struggle with Welensky, Kim had forgotten Wand was still outside, perched on the hull. Despite four bullets hitting him, he was hauling his way back to the door leading to the bridge as the missile landed.
The explosion shattered the whole Stealth vessel aft of the bridge. As Paula stared through her Balaclava she saw Wand caught in the ferocious spearhead of flames shooting skywards. He staggered, alight from the feet up to his waist. Waving his powerful arms frantically, he pirouetted with the searing pain. Losing all sense of direction, he staggered into the inferno, vanished.
`Burnt out,' Newman commented. 'And a damn good job too.'
The section of the Mao aft of the bridge broke off, sank between the waves. There was a sinister hissing sound as the sea quenched fire with a temperature of over one thousand degrees. The whole vessel began to turn turtle. Several of Norlin's dinghies full of armed men, ready to board, had turned away, speeding across the sea. Behind them the Mao's bridge went down first, hoisting the stern high above the water. Then the entire vessel plunged into the depths like a rocket diving. The sea boiled and large waves spread out in all directions. Then it was suddenly quiet as the sea settled again. Quiet, but only for a moment.
The titanic explosion had dissipated the fog and now the smaller Stealth vessel appeared. The Minotaur was moving at high speed, taking up a position behind the ship. The bullhorn voice of Tug Wilson boomed out over the tannoy again, hard and demanding.
`Continue on your present course. East. At top speed.'
Another missile was fired, aimed deliberately to miss the Stealth vessel, landing in the water well clear of its port bow. Inside the low-profile bridge the Yenan was skippered by a Bait. The Chinese commissar who had stood by his side was below decks, trying to pacify his panic-stricken passengers.
The Balt didn't hesitate. Witnessing the destruction of the Mao III was enough encouragement. The missile added to his terror. He screamed the order to the engine room.
`Full speed ahead! Now!'
It never occurred to him where this action would take him to. Aboard the launch Tweed blessed Tug Wilson. He had remembered his request for prisoners. The Yenan shot forward, slicing its way through the calm sea. In only a short time the Balt looked ahead and a fresh fear gripped him as he saw where he was going.
Before the battle started Tweed had given Philip Cardon special instructions. He must stay ashore, remain on the ridge where he had an overall view of the beach.
The Squirrel had not waited idly. Taking out a capacious handkerchief, he had scooped up handfuls of sand, dropped them on the cloth, and had then tied it up by the corners.
Completing this task, he had settled down to wait. He had heard the terrific detonation out at sea – so strong it had dispersed the fog and blown up curtains of sand along the beach. It was minutes later when he saw the dinghy racing ashore. He lifted the glasses Tweed had left him, focused them. From a photograph he recognized the sole occupant – Jules Starmberg.
Realizing it was all over, Starmberg had thrown overboard the two other occupants of the dinghy and had headed for the shore – for escape. He jumped out of the dinghy as it hit the beach and ran up the side of the ridge about ten yards to the left of where Cardon lay. The Squirrel ran along the top of the ridge in a crouch. He arrived just in time to see Starmberg standing by a Volvo hidden in a similar gulley to the one where Newman and the others had parked their own cars.
Starmberg held car keys in his hand, was inserting one when he heard Cardon behind him He swung round as Cardon socked him on the back of the head with his makeshift sandbag. The Luxemburger collapsed. Within five minutes Cardon had Starmberg slumped on the floor of his Ford Sierra behind the front seats. He stared down at the unconscious figure, wrists handcuffed behind his back, a gag inserted into his mouth.