Red Alert

Thirteen

It took them five-and-a-half hours, including three fuel stops, to reach Corfu.

As Kolchinsky skimmed the helicopter low across the Khalikiopoulos Lagoon, Graham and Sabrina were smearing camouflage cream over their faces in the cabin behind him. They were both wearing black track suits which they had got from the Test Centre in Zürich, and Sabrina also wore a black cap to hide her blonde hair.

‘Are you ready?’ Kolchinsky called out over his shoulder.

‘Ready,’ Sabrina replied, and pushed her Beretta into her shoulder holster. Graham, too, loaded his Beretta and holstered it.

‘How long before we deplane?’

‘A couple of minutes,’ Kolchinsky answered.

‘And you’re sure there are no guards?’ Sabrina asked.

‘That’s what it says in the surveillance report,’ Kolchinsky replied. ‘Boudien’s the only person who’s been seen there in the last two days.’

Graham clipped the two-way radio on his belt.

‘I still say we’re on a wild-goose chase.’

‘But what would Calvieri gain by that?’ Sabrina asked.

‘I know it doesn’t make any sense but you’d understand my scepticism if you’d been there when Karos was shot. The guy was riddled with bullets even before he fell off the terrace. You don’t just get up and walk away from that.’

Kolchinsky banked the helicopter in a wide arc to avoid flying over the house and landed on the helipad. He gave them a thumbs-up sign, the signal to deplane.

‘If you haven’t heard from us in thirty minutes you’ll come in with guns blazing, right?’ Graham said, standing in front of the closed cabin door.

‘Just make sure I do hear from you,’ Kolchinsky replied.

Graham pulled open the door and jumped out on to the helipad. Sabrina leapt out after him and closed the door behind her. The helicopter immediately rose into the sky and wheeled away towards a clearing on the edge of the lagoon where Kolchinsky would await their instructions.

They ignored the road leading up to the house. Instead they used the cover of the adjacent olive grove, dense trees with thick corded trunks.

It would be impossible to see them from the house. The perfect approach. Graham put a hand lightly on Sabrina’s arm when they reached the edge of the grove. The nearest of the four concrete pillars stood thirty yards away. Thirty yards of lawn. According to the surveillance report, the only way into the house was via the glass lift. Although the glass was bulletproof, it still made them feel uneasy. They would be trapped together in a confined space. And not only that, their progress could be monitored from inside the house. Graham had suggested climbing the pylons, using suction pads, but his idea was quickly scuppered when it turned out that the pylons were protected with razor-sharp pieces of glass embedded into the concrete. Sabrina had suggested using a length of rope to climb up to the terrace. The railing had an alarm built into it which would be activated the moment the grappling hook touched it. If the alarm was on. But they couldn’t take that chance. Another idea discarded. There was no alternative; they would have to use the lift.

Graham broke cover and sprinted to the lift. Sabrina followed and took up a position on the other side. He pressed the call button and the lift arrived seconds later. He pivoted round, Beretta extended, when the doors opened. It was empty. They stepped inside and he pushed the button for the first floor. They had agreed to cover the house, floor by floor, rather than risk any more time in the lift than was absolutely necessary. The doors closed and the lift rose slowly up the side of the house. They braced themselves to dive low out of the lift when it stopped on the first floor. It didn’t stop. He hit the button for the second floor. It didn’t stop there either. It slowed on nearing the third, the top, floor. Each was aware of the other’s tension, and the sweat shone on both their faces.

The lift stopped and the doors opened. They dived low through the doorway, fanning the corridor with their Berettas. It was deserted. A closed-circuit television camera, mounted above the metal door at the end of the corridor, was monitoring their every move. The lift doors closed behind them. Graham got to his feet cautiously and was about to shoot out the camera lens when the metal doors suddenly slid open. They both trained their Berettas on the doorway. The room looked deserted.

It had to be a trap. Sabrina stood up and covered Graham’s back as he moved towards the open door.

They were both knocked off their feet as if hit by an invisible punch.

Sabrina landed by the lift. Graham was slammed against the wall, winded. He fell, face forward, on to the carpet. The towering figure of Boudien appeared in the doorway, holding a CZ75 pistol in his hand.

He disarmed them, then returned to the doorway and waited for them to recover.

Graham was the first to move. He rubbed his eyes, then pulled himself up on to one knee. He felt groggy. His whole body was tingling. He looked across at Sabrina. She lay motionless in front of the lift. For a horrifying moment he thought she was dead. Then she groaned and slowly eased herself up into a sitting position. She let Graham help her to her feet. Boudien gestured for them to enter the room.

It was a lounge. And Karos’s obsession with snakes was evident everywhere. Prints and wood engravings lined the walls, bronze sculptures littered the sideboards, and even the carpet had snakes incorporated into its design.

Karos sat in one of the armchairs.

‘Please, come in. Sit down,’ he said, indicating the sofa opposite him.

Boudien waited until they were seated, then handed one of the Berettas to Karos and tucked the other into the back of his belt. He took up a position behind the sofa, his arms folded across his chest.

Karos placed the Beretta in his lap.

‘I’m relieved that you both survived the shock. Gadgets have never been my strong point, I’m afraid. I was worried that I might have overdone it. My plans would have been thrown into complete disarray if the shock had proved fatal.’

‘An electric shock? I thought as much,’ Graham said, eyeing Karos contemptuously. ‘What is it, some sort of metallic sensor?’

Karos picked up a remote control device from the coffee table next to the armchair.

‘I find metallic sensors very unreliable. It’s so difficult to set a level for it. It’s either too high or too low. There really isn’t a happy medium. This one works off a heat-seeking sensor built into the ceiling in the corridor. The sensor picks up the heat from a body and counters it with a charge of static electricity. It’s part of my security system. Not that I’ve had to use it before. That’s why I was worried about the strength of the charge.’

‘I presume the remote also controls the lift and the door?’ Sabrina said.

‘And the closed-circuit television cameras,’ Karos replied. ‘That’s how I was able to track you both from the moment you left the helicopter. My whole security system on one remote control. The wonders of science.’

‘You knew we were coming?’ Sabrina said.

‘I realized something had gone wrong when Bellini didn’t resign at five o’clock. I knew that if Calvieri had been taken alive he’d be sure to finger me. He wouldn’t take the rap by himself. So I expected some sort of deputation, Miss Carver, either from your organization or from the NOCS.’ Karos got to his feet and secured the Beretta under his belt. He gestured towards the drinks cabinet.

‘Can I get you something? Brandy? Whisky? A bourbon, perhaps?’

‘How did you manage to pull off your own death like that?’ Graham asked, staring coldly at Karos.

‘I wondered when you’d get round to that.’ Karos poured himself a whisky.

‘I’ve made a lot of enemies over the years and several of them have put out contracts on my life. Two attempts have been made to kill me in the last three months alone. Fortunately Boudien was on hand to thwart them. But I can’t go on relying on Boudien to bail me out every time. I realized the only way to get the contracts lifted would be for me to “die”. That would mean starting a new life away from Corfu. But I couldn’t risk withdrawing large sums of money just prior to my “death”. It would be too suspicious. So I went into league with Calvieri. I would cover the cost of the operation in return for a fifth of the ransom money. Well, that’s how it should have worked.’

‘You’ve told us why, not how,’ Graham said.

‘How? It’s really very simple. Carlo and Tommaso Francia used to be stunt men. They know the ins and outs of the film industry. They came up with the plan. The first hundred bullets in each of the helicopter’s two machine-guns were actually blanks. I was rigged up with a series of small explosive charges hidden underneath my jacket. The charges were attached to sachets of blood. My own blood. It made it look more realistic. Boudien was in the control room with the detonator switch so all he had to do was activate the charges when Tommaso Francia opened fire. I fell off the terrace and landed on a safety net which was manned by four of my most trusted employees. He then sprayed the terrace with live rounds to keep you pinned down until the safety net had been rolled up and taken back into the house. So by the time you and Paluzzi reached the railing it looked as though I had landed on the rocks. You both thought I was dead. What better witnesses could I have had?’

‘Ingenious,’ Graham said at length. ‘But how did you know we would be there?’

‘The bank statements in Dragotti’s safe were the bait. I knew you would come sooner or later. So when Paluzzi called to say you were on your way we put the plan into action. As I said, it was really very simple.’

Karos drank the whisky in one gulp and placed the glass on top of the drinks cabinet.

‘Well, now that your curiosity’s been satisfied, we can get down to business. Contact your pilot on the radio and tell him that Boudien and I have surrendered. Tell him to put down on the terrace to pick us up. It would be too risky trying to get us to the runway.’

‘Then what?’ Sabrina challenged. ‘You’ll kill us and have the pilot fly you two to a destination of your choice, then you’ll kill him as well.’

‘That’s a little melodramatic, Miss Carver. I don’t have any reason to kill any of you, as long as you do as I say. I’m only interested in getting away from Corfu.’

‘And if I refuse?’ Graham asked.

‘Then Miss Carver will die,’ Karos replied, indicating the gun in Boudien’s hand.

Graham undipped the two-way radio from his belt, switched it on, and put it to his lips.

‘Graham to Emile, do you read me? Over.’

Sabrina was momentarily puzzled. Emile? Graham must be trying to warn Kolchinsky. But would it work?

There was a lengthy pause then the radio crackled into life.

‘Emile to Graham, I read you. Over.’ Sabrina felt a surge of relief.

‘We’ve apprehended Boudien and Karos. Request that you put down on the terrace to take them aboard. Over.’

‘Message received and understood. Am on my way. Over and out.’

‘Perfect,’ Karos said, then poured himself another whisky. ‘Are you sure you won’t join me?’

Graham and Sabrina remained silent.

‘As you wish. It just seems a pity to waste such a fine whisky. I should have given it to the Francias the last time they were here. They appreciated it.’ Karos turned the glass around thoughtfully in his hands. ‘Tommaso’s taken Carlo’s death very badly. I had to take him off the assignment. He’s become totally unreliable. All he talks about now is revenge. He’ll find you, Miss Carver. You can be sure of that.’

‘Unless I find him first,’ Sabrina retorted.

Karos pondered the thought, then shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

The silence lingered until they heard the sound of the approaching helicopter. Karos activated the door on to the terrace and ordered Graham and Sabrina to their feet.

‘What about the holdall?’ Boudien asked.

‘Bring it,’ Karos answered.

Boudien picked up the white holdall at his feet, then jabbed Graham in the back with the CZ75. ‘Put your hands on your head.’

Graham did as he was told.

‘Now walk slowly to the door. And don’t look round.’

Boudien kept his distance and followed Graham to the door. They disappeared out on to the floodlit terrace. Karos told Sabrina to put her hands on her head as well and, like Boudien, kept his distance, making it impossible for her to disarm him.

The helicopter was hovering close to the railing, facing the terrace.

Kolchinsky had been alerted by Graham’s coded warning but he couldn’t do anything until he knew they were both safe. Then he could play his own ace. But it was all a matter of timing. He had to await his moment, then he would strike.

Karos stepped out on to the terrace behind Sabrina, his face screwed up against the noise of the helicopter’s engine. He gestured for Kolchinsky to land the helicopter. Kolchinsky kept it hovering.

‘Tell him to land,’ Boudien shouted to Graham.

Graham undipped the two-way radio and tossed it into the swimming pool.

Boudien hit Graham on the back of the head with the pistol butt. Graham stumbled forward but Boudien locked his arm around his throat before he could fall and pressed the CZ75 into his neck.

Kolchinsky, who was wearing an integrated helmet and display sighting system, turned his head towards the lift at the other end of the terrace to aim the single missile in the pod on the side of the helicopter. He fired. The lift, and part of the wall, disintegrated in a mass of glass, bricks and mortar which rained down on the terrace.

Sabrina was the first to her feet and grabbed the Beretta which Karos had dropped in his panic to find cover. She aimed it at Karos, who was cowering in the entrance to the lounge. He slowly stood up and raised his hands above his head.

‘Drop the gun!’ Boudien snapped behind her.

She glanced at Boudien, the Beretta still trained on Karos. Boudien, with blood streaming down his face from a gash on his forehead, held the CZ75 on the motionless Graham who lay face down on the terrace. She knew that by surrendering her gun she would be breaking a fundamental UNACO principle, giving in to the demands of a criminal. But if she didn’t, Boudien would kill Graham. She had no choice. Karos grabbed the gun from her hand and shoved her towards a set of stairs which led down to the garage at the foot of the house. Graham groaned and Boudien reached down to haul him to his feet. Graham, who had been feigning concussion, lashed out with his fist, catching Boudien on the side of the face. Boudien grabbed him as he tried to stand up and they both tumbled into the swimming pool, creating a cascade of spray.

Sabrina was about to swing round on Karos when she saw the King Cobra in the shadows at the top of the stairs. It was at least fifteen feet in length. And it was raised up, its hooded head swaying mesmerizingly from side to side. Another few feet and it would be within striking distance. She pretended to stumble, then spun round and grabbed Karos’s arm, propelling him towards the stairs. He saw the snake at the last moment. Its head shot forward, its fangs sinking into his leg. Sabrina remained motionless, ignoring Karos’s pleading cries for help. The snake was still within striking distance. All she could do was wait.

Boudien was the strongest man Graham had ever fought. It was like hitting a brick wall. It was also like being hit by a brick wall. When he did manage to break free from Boudien’s grip he made for the side of the pool but Boudien grabbed him from behind before he could climb out and yanked him back into the water. He cried out in pain as Boudien’s elbow caught him on the side of the face, splitting open his stitches.

Blood streamed down into the illuminated water. Boudien locked his arm around Graham’s neck and forced his head under the water. Graham raked at Boudien’s arm but he couldn’t break the hold. He felt as if he were being crushed by a python. He was becoming increasingly dizzy. He felt he was losing consciousness. He made one last effort to break Boudien’s grip. It was hopeless. Water seeped into his mouth. A thought suddenly flashed across his mind. Boudien had stuck the Beretta into the back of his belt. But would it still be there? His fingers raked at the back of Boudien’s trousers. Nothing. It had to be there. He tried again. This time his fingers touched the butt but as he pulled it from Boudien’s belt it slipped from his grasp. Darkness flooded over him.

Then there was a muffled thud, and another, and the pressure was gone from around his neck. He surfaced, coughing and spluttering, and grabbed on to the side of the pool. Boudien was floating face down in the water. There were two bullet holes in his back.

‘Are you all right?’ Sabrina asked anxiously, kneeling over him, the CZ75 still in her hand.

Graham sucked in several mouthfuls of air, then looked up at her.

‘You took your time, didn’t you?’

‘So would you if you’d had a fifteen-foot Cobra in front of you,’ she replied.

‘What are you talking about?’ he asked, his chest still heaving.

‘The tank containing the two King Cobras was damaged in the explosion. One of them was killed, the other escaped.’

‘Where is it now?’ Graham asked, looking past her at the shattered tank.

‘The last I saw it was disappearing down the stairs,’ she said, then squinted up at the helicopter as it descended towards the terrace.

‘And Karos ?’ he asked, pulling himself out of the water.

‘Dead. Come on, we’ve got to get out of here. The whole island must have heard the explosion. It’ll only be a matter of time before the police get here.’

He got to his feet unsteadily, but pushed her hand away when she tried to help him. He picked up the holdall and followed her to the helicopter which had landed at the end of the terrace.

‘Michael, are you okay?’ Kolchinsky shouted after Graham had climbed into the cabin.

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Graham replied, using his sleeve to wipe the blood from his face.

‘I’m flying to Arta in Greece. I’ve got a friend there. An old KGB colleague. We can stay with him for the night then fly back to Switzerland in the morning. His wife’s a nurse, she’ll see to your stitches. Sabrina, put a dressing on the wound. It’ll have to do until we get there.’

Graham unzipped the holdall and whistled softly to himself. Sabrina returned with the dressing and peered over his shoulder. The holdall was packed with bundles of notes. Hundreds of thousands of pounds sterling.

‘That’s some haul,’ she said, flicking through one of the bundles.

‘More than enough to start a new life,’ he replied, taking the notes from her and replacing them in the holdall.

‘Where do you suggest we go?’ she asked with a mischievous grin.

‘How about… Arta?’

She smiled, then dabbed some disinfectant on to a swab of cotton wool and began to wipe away the camouflage cream from around the wound.

The helicopter ascended into the night sky and headed out towards the Ionian Sea.