'That was the general idea. What he's taking back home in his head alone should set your people back five years at least. If it comes to that, what I'm taking home should put you out of the race altogether.'
For a moment, the monumental ego of the man broke through to the surface and Chavasse seized on it quickly. 'I was wondering about that. I realised it had to be something pretty special when I caught a glimpse of your private army back there on the island.'
'You'd never guess, sport. You'd never guess in a thousand years.' With a sudden gesture, Donner tossed the cigar into the fire. 'What the hell-why not?'
He crossed to a door in the far corner, opened it and disappeared. He was back in a moment, pulling on a German Army officer's tunic which had obviously been made to measure. 'Perfect fit, isn't it?' he said as he buttoned it up.
Chavasse took in the badges of rank, the insignia, the triple row of medal ribbons. 'You must have had a hard war. I see you've got everything that counts including the Knight's Cross.'
'And they didn't give that away with the rations.' Donner clicked his heels. 'Allow me to introduce myself. Colonel Gunther von Bayern, German Military Intelligence on temporary detachment to the Royal Artillery on the island of Fhada in the Outer Hebrides.'
'Fhada?' Chavasse said, frowning. 'That's a Missile Training Base.'
'It sure is, sport. Did you think I was joking?' Donner shook his head. 'Von Bayern and a detachment of nine men from the German 101st Missile Regiment are flying in to Glasgow airport in the morning. They then proceed by road to Mallaig where a tank landing craft will be waiting to run them across to Fhada.'
And then Chavasse saw everything. 'Let me guess. They won't even get as far as Mallaig. You're going to work a switch.'
'Let's say we divert them to here and then take over. There are thirty-eight men stationed on Fhada. I shouldn't think we'll have too much trouble. They'll be under wraps before they know what's hit them.'
'There must be something pretty special there to make a stunt like this worthwhile.'
'You could say that. You British never change, do you? The Empire crumbles, the pound totters, you cut back on defence and while everyone gloats, you get together with the Germans on a nice little mutual research programme that no one else knows a damn thing about.'
'Such as?'
'A new kind of rocket propulsion unit that produces limitless power from a negative energy field, whatever that's supposed to mean. It's being tried out in a new anti-tank missile called Firebird. That's what von Bayern and his boys are here for-to train on the operational side.'
'I suppose Souvorin put you on to this?'
Donner nodded. 'And he's going in with us, too, just to make sure we collect the right item.'
Chavasse shook his head. 'You'll never get away with it.'
'Why not? Once we take over, all we need is five hours. On the right signal, a fast diesel trawler comes in and takes off the missile and the men. She sails under the Panamanian flag, by the way. Once she's out to sea again, she's just one more trawler amongst the hundreds that fish those waters from every country in Europe.'
Chavasse, searching desperately for a flaw, clutched at the only straw in sight. 'There's standard checking procedure between Guided Weapon H.Q. and all outstations. If they get radio silence from Fhada, they'll want to know why.'
'But they won't. We'll maintain essential radio contact until we leave and emergency checking procedures don't come into operation until radio silence has lasted for six hours. That gives us plenty of time to move on. Anything else?'
Chavasse shook his head slowly. 'You seem to have thought of just about everything.'
Donner laughed. 'Don't worry, sport, Stavrou will take good care of you while I'm gone and when I come back, we'll fly out of here together. Back to the dear old homeland.'
'Does Asta come too.'
'Where I go, Asta goes from now on.'
'I wonder what she'll have to say about that.'
Donner's face hardened. 'She'll do as she's told because, like you, she isn't going to have much choice in the matter.' He nodded to Stavrou. 'Go on, take him below. I've wasted enough time.'
He turned abruptly and went into the other room, unbuttoning his tunic and Stavrou touched Chavasse gently on the back of the neck with the barrel of his revolver.
It was cold on the way through the hall, colder still in the dimly lit passages beneath the old house. The cellar outside which they stopped had a gnarled oak door, secured by an iron bar fitted into sockets on either side.
Stavrou stood well away and nodded and Chavasse raised the bar. He weighed it in both hands for a moment longer than was necessary and Stavrou took careful aim and thumbed back the hammer of his revolver.
Chavasse grinned. 'All right, you bastard, I get the point.'
He dropped the bar on the ground and went inside. The door closed behind him and the bar clanged into place.
He listened to the man's steps recede along the corridor, then turned to examine the cellar. It was almost totally dark, a patch of light showing from a tiny barred window on the other side. Rain drifted in through a hole in the glass and when he pulled himself up, he looked out at ground level across the courtyard to the stables and the garage.
He dropped to the ground and went right round the room, feeling at the walls, but there was no way out-not even a possibility of one-and he squatted in the corner by the door, and waited.
He dozed fitfully and was finally awakened by the sound of footsteps in the courtyard. He got to his feet and hurried across to the window. The first grey light of dawn seeped through and he looked outside in time to see one of the Land Rovers turn out of the garage, Jack Murdoch at the wheel. He was followed by Donner and Souvorin in the other, Donner driving.
He wondered where they were going? To the loch probably, to pick up the rest of the party. Then to the appointed place on the Mallaig road to wait in ambush for von Bayern and his men.
He dropped to the floor and slammed the heel of his hand in impotent rage against the wall. The wheels were turning, the whole damned thing was in motion and there was nothing he could do about it.
He slumped down against the wall, his hands tucked into his armpits, trying to keep warm in the intense cold. It was perhaps half an hour later that he heard slow, cautious footsteps approaching along the passage outside. A door was opened and then another. Chavasse got to his feet, drew back against the wall and waited.
The steps paused outside, the bar was lifted and then the door opened. He raised his fist to strike and Asta stepped into the room.
12
She was trembling as he held her in his arms and when she looked up, her face was pale in the dim light. 'I forgot and went into the next cell. Fergus is still there.' She shuddered. 'Stavrou's in the kitchen, but Max and the others have gone.'
Chavasse nodded. 'Yes, I saw them leave from the window.'
'I saw them bring you here during the night,' she said. 'What happened?'
'They were waiting for me when I got back to the lodge. I'm afraid I made a bad mistake. Souvorin wasn't what I thought he was.'
'What about Colonel Craig and George?'
'Stavrou killed them both.'
Her eyes widened in horror and she swayed slightly. He held her for a while, her head against his chest. When she looked up, her voice seemed unnaturally calm.
'It's Max who's to blame, isn't it, Paul? Stavrou's just a blunt instrument. He murdered my mother, did you know that?'