None of them had ever worked with nor even seen a nuclear weapon. They’d have to be insane not to know the hazards involved. They were willing to take the gamble, because to have these weapons so close at hand, and on English soil, could not have been more perfect for what they were about to do for their cause.
A continuous drizzle started two hours earlier. Weather along the English coast can change rapidly. Today it brought with it larger swells and a lower temperature.
Labeaux struggled to hang onto the rope as the Zodiac sped toward shore. With it still being daylight, and even though it was raining, trying to race across the beach in a raincoat would make his trek that more difficult. He had to make himself look less conspicuous once they reached Tolcarne Beach.
Less than one mile north of Newquay Harbor, Tolcarne Beach had the best location for the access Labeaux needed to return to Newquay. With the weather change, that meant fewer locals and tourists would be on the beach.
His decision the night before to not return to the harbor proved to be correct. But he couldn’t get a picture out of his mind of two men watching them when they left the harbor this morning. Were they there by coincidence? His snap decisions had saved him in past operations. He counted on it being correct again.
At the rate the tide was retreating, Delaney would only be able to bring the rubber boat within two hundred feet of the cliff located on the north side of Tolcarne. Labeaux would have to find his own way around the cliff base then get to the walkway behind the bath houses lining the backside of the beach. The bath houses were individual changing facilities, three rows high. Doors on each row were painted different colors, making them good landmarks.
Delaney slowed the engine, aiming the Zodiac toward the beach at the base of the cliff. He put the engine into neutral, then immediately picked up a paddle from the bottom of the boat and leaned over the side, testing the depth of the water. It was still too deep for Labeaux to try making it to shore, but it was time to raise the prop out of the water.
Delaney struggled, paddling against the tide. Finally, the bottom of the boat rubbed against sand.
“Get out now!” he shouted to Labeaux as he jumped over the side, getting ready to turn the boat around.
Without replying, Labeaux sat on the gunnel then swung his legs over the side. As soon as his shoes hit sand, he reached for his briefcase, then started running for cover beneath the cliff.
Delaney didn’t wait to see if Labeaux made it. Grabbing hold of the rope encircling the Zodiac, he pulled hard, trying to get the boat off sand and into the surf. Once he had, he jumped back in as the boat started floating on the tide. Lowering the engine, he restarted it then kicked it into gear.
Labeaux had another seventy yards to go before reaching the base of the cliff. He was breathing hard. Muscles in his legs started cramping as he struggled to keep going. His lungs burned. He had to stop, if only for a moment. Bending over, he tried to catch his breath. This operation was to be one of the most physical he ever designed, but in the end, he hoped it to be the most rewarding.
Putting his briefcase next to his leg, he removed his raincoat then draped it across his shoulders. Brushing sand from the briefcase, he took a deep breath and began his trek toward the cliff.
Once he reached it, he leaned against the cold, damp rock formation. Ignoring the feel of moss and slimy mollusks rubbing against his clothes, he concentrated on his next move. He still had to make his way to the main beach, then hike up the path to the road where his ride should be waiting.
Staying close to the cliff wall, he walked at a normal pace until he started rounding the corner, when he suddenly stopped. Voices! Close to him. He backed up, trying to wedge himself in between the rocks jutting out from the cliff. Wrapping his arms around his briefcase, holding it against he chest, he could feel his pistol pressing against the leather.
He closed his eyes, putting his head back against the rock, feeling drizzle on his face, when he realized there was silence again.
Taking a short step forward, he looked around, seeing three people hustling toward the bath houses. Only tourists. Moving out from his hiding place, he stood watching and waiting to see if he was in the clear. Scanning the far side of the beach, he saw a few other people, but they weren’t close enough to be able to identify him.
Pulling his sleeve back, he glanced at his watch. No more time to waste. Holding his briefcase close, he kept the flap open, allowing easy access to the Luger. The pistol was a semi-automatic, gas blow-back design, once owned by his father.
He made a dash for the walkway, then stopped and looked up the hundred fifty yards he still had to traverse. Around the hairpin turn at the top, there was still another hundred fifty yards or so before he reached the main road, and all of it was uphill.
Parked on the wrong side of Ulalia Road, close to the corner of Narrowcliff, a black Range Rover’s windshield wipers intermittently swished back and forth.
Colin Webb took a check of the time on the dashboard clock, then looked out the windshield across Narrowcliff. Still no sign of Labeaux. He took a final drag on his cigarette while he rolled down the window a few inches. He flicked the butt through the narrow opening and blew out a lungful of smoke.
Grabbing hold of the leather-covered steering wheel, he readjusted himself in the seat, stretching his back muscles. Sitting back again, he glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing Victoria’s tired blue eyes staring at him from the back seat.
Those eyes diverted their gaze to the side window. Her blond hair was piled on top of her head, held haphazardly by a gold hair clip. She rubbed her fingers across a small section of the vehicle’s window, wiping away built-up moisture.
“There he is,” Webb said. He unlocked the passenger door before starting the engine.
Victoria looked out the windshield, spotting Labeaux hurrying across the road, clutching his briefcase. She moved closer to the armrest, while she wondered what would happen next.
The past few months had been so unlike anything she could have imagined. Her once simple, quiet life had become turmoil. It was difficult for her to believe how she had managed to hide the truth, attempting to carry on a normal life with her husband. She was bewildered, but more than anything else, utterly terrified.
Her life began to change soon after both her parents died. Colin revealed to her the truth about his natural parents… and being taken in by the Webbs. That news itself was shocking.
His parents were among the innocent victims killed during a raid on their apartment building. Other children had survived that attack. Two of his good friends, who lived in the adjoining flats, also lost their parents, but unlike Colin who had no other family, the other two boys were found by relatives.
It was never known how or why Sergeant Webb took Colin from Ireland. Perhaps it was the guilt he felt for the slaughter. In any event, the child’s survival was a miracle.
The attack left the little boy in shock, with little memory of what happened. It was years before he began having flashbacks to the day when his parents died in a barrage of gunfire. He started remembering the sound of weapons, the screams, the blood. The last picture that came to his mind were the uniforms of the men who committed the atrocity — British military uniforms.