He pointed to a phone handset which lay on the ground next to Blade. A cable stretched from it away into the distance.
The Dutchman organized that while you were out there. An efficient lot, these Dutch chaps. Don't panic. That will be for you,' he said as the phone started a muted buzz.
'Tweed here.'
'Van Corp. That was pretty grim…'
'Shock tactics. Perfect timing. Klein's about to run for it. That showed he means business with his bloody little red button.'
'Still deadlock then. I'm waiting. So is the other chap at the end of the line…'
'Must go. Something's happening.'
Blade had gripped his arm. The growing sound of a helicopter approaching broke the silence. The Sikorksy looked enormous when it hove into view over the river. Tweed gripped the pistol. 'Just one mistake, Klein,' he whispered to himself.
On the platform Klein watched the machine coming, turned to Marler. 'I'm going down in the elevator. Cover me.'
'Will do.'
Klein took five men inside the elevator, holding the control box firmly. Emerging from the elevator on the ground level, he walked alongside a wall and stared out of a window. The Sikorsky had turned over Parkhaven, was hovering above one of the barges. It descended slowly. Rotors still whirling, it settled on the deck, its port side facing towards the end of the basin where Blade's men were hidden.
Klein walked out slowly, hand extended. A file of men holding Uzi machine-pistols followed him down the steps. Klein walked across the sidewalk, stepped off the kerb into the street. A dozen yards more and he would he shielded by the bulk of the machine which kept its rotors whirling, ready for immediate take-off.
On the platform Marler moved round to the far side -away from the buildings where the Sabre Troop waited. Raising his rifle, he rammed the stock into his shoulder and waited, gazing through the telescopic night sight.
Klein stepped on to the barge deck which was sleazy with oily wetness. No one behind the wall with Tweed saw what happened next. Klein moved forward towards the open door of the Sikorsky, his leather-soled shoes slipped, he lost his balance and sprawled forward full length. The control box slid out of his hand, skidding under the chopper's fuselage. Klein hauled himself forward, made no attempt to climb to his feet. His hand reached forward to grip the control box.
Marler saw it clearly through his sight. The hand reaching out desperately for the box. He began shooting with surgical precision. The first bullet tore into the outstretched hand. Klein's arm jerked back in a reflex of pain.
He rolled on his side, closer to the box. Using his uninjured left hand he reached again for the box. Marler saw the hand as though it were inches from his face. The long fingers clawing forward like a spider's legs. He aimed for the centre of the back of the hand, it disintegrated into a bloody mess of mangled flesh. Again the arm jerked back. He aimed for the iower back as Klein rolled in agony, pulled the trigger. The body jerked convulsively, lay still. Marler aimed for a point below the left shoulder blade and fired again. Klein twitched, lay motionless. A figure in the doorway dropped to the deck. Marler shot him in the chest. He was hurled back as though hit by a hammerblow. Inside the Sikorsky, sitting behind his controls, the pilot, Victor Saur, was confused. He had no idea Klein had been shot. Another man appeared at the doorway, saw the body of his companion and retreated inside the machine. 'No sign of Klein yet,' he reported.
On the platform Marler turned as a Luxembourger walked round the side of the tower. He shot him. Then he walked to the rail, held his rifle at a vertical angle, waved it sideways back and forth three times, and reloaded.
Tweed saw the signal, fired his Verey pistol. Above Parkhaven a green light flared brilliantly. Blade's men moved forward in three widely separated groups, crouched low as they ran for the entrance to Euromast.
On the roof of the HQ building Van Gorp's lookout gave the warning through his walkie-talkie.
' Flashpoint! '
Inside the HQ room Van Gorp grabbed for the phone which linked him to Findel.
'You there, Benoit? Flashpoint! Flashpoint! '
Blade's men had reached the entrance. Several hurled stun grenades over the crude barrier of furniture. The grenades exploded with a deafening crack. Balaclava-masked figures leapt straight over the barrier. They were firing their Ingram machine-pistols as they landed.
Dazed by the stun grenades, nine of Klein's team armed with Uzis attempted to aim their weapons. Swift, short fusillades of bullets hit them. They crumpled, fell to the ground in grotesque attitudes.
On the roof of the HQ building Blade's trooper holding the bazooka aimed it carefully, pulled the trigger. The missile hammered through the restaurant windows three hundred feet up, detonated inside.
On the platform Marler heard the whoosh of the missile coming, dived down behind the railing. The platform shook with the force of the explosion. Most of Klein's men at that level had been inside the restaurant. Marler pulled out his bright red scarf, let it fall over his jacket. He risked a glance over the rail. The Sikorsky was still on the barge, its rotors whirling.
Tweed, waiting by the side of the building the SAS troop had attacked from, also stood watching the helicopter. Someone came up behind him, tapped him on the shoulder. A familiar voice spoke. Captain Nicholls. From the bomb disposal squad at Blakeney.
'Bellenger sent me to join you. I've just arrived. Balloon's gone up… '
'Klein must be dead. I'm worried about the control box he was carrying. It can…'
'I know. Bellenger explained. Why don't we walk over there?'
The Sikorsky had begun to lift off. Saur had panicked. As the machine climbed higher they had a clear view of the deck of the barge. Tweed saw the two bodies lying there.
'Let's move,' he said.
They walked at a normal pace towards the barge. From Euromast came the sound of desultory machine-pistol fire. A series of sharp cracks. No one else on the waterfront. Tweed kept an eye on the elevating helicopter. It was now turning, heading for the Maas above the docking basin.
On the platform Marler heard the Sikorsky taking off. Standing up, he raised his rifle. He aimed carefully for the section which held the petrol tanks. He waited, seeing Tweed walking with another man, far below – waited for the Sikorksy to get far enough away. It reached the end of the basin, flew on over the Maas. Marler pulled the trigger three times in rapid succession.
Nothing happened for a few seconds. Marier estimated the Sikorsky was thirty feet above the water. A tongue of fire appeared, expanded into a flaring flame. Saur, his flying kit on fire, dived from the doorway. The fire enveloped him as he dropped into the river. The Sikorksy exploded, showering the air with fragments. In seconds it was a glowing fireball. It plunged into the Maas. The water sizzled. A second petrol tank exploded. A geyser of water as dramatic as one in Yellowstone Park rose from the river, then collapsed. The dark surface of the Maas became smooth and still as the grave.
Marler walked inside the entrance to Euromast, glanced round the lobby, holding the rifle he had reloaded. No one. He was watching the elevator – which had started to climb from the base of the tower. He sat at a table half-sheltered by an upended couch, took out from his pocket a wad of cotton wool he used to freshen himself up with eau-de-Cologne. Wetting two tufts with his tongue, he stuffed one in each ear,
He sat at the table with his forearms, leaning on it, his hands extended, fiat on the table's surface. The rifle he left on the floor. The elevator had arrived at the platform.
The doors opened. Inside, both men pressed against the wall, stood Blade with Eddie. The moment the doors opened they hurled the stun grenades. Despite the cotton wool, the sound was deafening. The two men jumped out, Ingrams aimed. Eddie saw Marler, swivelled his weapon. Blade saw the red scarf. A second before Eddie fired he yelled.