By Stealth

51

`Erik… Landslide! Landslide! Landslide…'

`Roger.'

Satisfied that his message had got through, Tweed ran back from the Opel to the ridge where rows of men lay prone on the ground. Again he flopped between Newman and Marler. Norlin was still holding a restraining hand on Newman's shoulder.

Earlier, the final message from Tug Wilson had arrived. `Targets stationary half a mile off shore. Moving in to intercept.'

Norlin had been crawling among his men, who appeared to be divided into sections with separate tasks. He had whispered orders, then had returned to lie down behind Newman. Tweed whispered his own order to Paula who lay next to Newman.

`You stay ashore. That's an order.'

`I heard you,' was all she replied.

Tweed had borrowed Marler's night-glasses, had them now focused on a familiar tall, heavily built figure wearing gumboots and striding towards the last but one dinghy putting out to sea. He could even see the pince-nez at that short range as the figure climbed inside a large dinghy held steady by four other men.

`Dr Wand – I want you.'

Although said under his breath Paula heard the words and was startled. She had never heard such cold ferocity in Tweed's voice. His right hand gripped his Walther. He had taken a Dramamine thirty minutes before: this was one occasion when he didn't want to feel queasy.

The dinghy's outboard motor burst into life, the remaining three men jumped aboard as Dr Wand sat at the prow. The dinghy moved straight out to sea, was swallowed up in the fog, the red light at its stern vanishing. Norlin pressed his hand firmer on Newman's shoulder, an action which caused Paula to smile to herself. The Dane knew who was straining at the leash. She slipped her Browning out of her shoulder-bag, a slow movement to ensure Tweed wouldn't see her action.

A final large dinghy was being hauled down to the edge of the sea by five men, all with automatic weapons looped over their shoulders. Newman stiffened, turned to glare at the unseen face of Norlin.

`That's the one we're supposed to grab, for Christ's sake.'

`Have patience. The strategy has been carefully worked out. And pass this message to your friends. Our dinghies will have green lights. Green…'

Newman passed the message to Paula on his right as Tweed repeated the instruction to Marler who, in turn, told Butler and Nield. It was then when Tweed saw the point of Norlin's holding Newman back. As the five men went on hauling their dinghy seawards, six men wearing Balaclavas appeared like magic from behind a nearby dune.

`My men,' Norlin whispered.

Fascinated, Tweed watched through his glasses. The six men moved with such speed and so silently they were on top of Wand's thugs in seconds. Four of them were felled instantly with savage blows from hand-gun barrels on their skulls. They slumped to the beach. One thug had time to tear his automatic weapon from his shoulders. A knife flashed up in the hand of a Balaclava man, flashed down, and was thrust up to the hilt into the thug's chest. He fell back into the water.

More Balaclava-clad men appeared carrying large stretchers. By the time they arrived the unconscious men had their wrists handcuffed behind their backs, gags plastered over their mouths. Without ceremony they were lifted, dumped into the stretchers. The thug who had fought sprawled motionless on a stretcher, the knife handle still protruding. As the stretchers were carried swiftly away to one of the bungalows another man appeared, flashed a torch three times.

`All clear,' Norlin said in a normal voice. 'One section was told to check the bungalows. Any men inside could have shot us in the back. Bungalows empty.' He took his hand off Newman's shoulder. 'Go, boy!'

Newman took off like a greyhound, Smith amp; Wesson in hand as he ran down the south-west slope, followed by Marler, Tweed, Butler and Nield. Tweed showed surprising agility as he slithered and hurtled towards the beach, overtaking Marler.

They reached the dinghy as Norlin drew level with Tweed. The Dane switched off the red light at the stern, removed the bulb, replaced it by another, switched it on. Green light. The others were aboard as he attached a small metallic disc with rubber suckers to the side of the craft well away from the outboard.

`A bleeper,' he explained quickly. 'Range twenty miles. You won't hear it, but we will if we have to come looking for you. As you'll see, there will be plenty of us to keep you company.'

Tweed, seated on a plank at the prow, glanced back. The beach was crowded with Balaclava men carrying a fleet of dinghies to the water's edge. Marler fired the outboard motor. As it burst into life a sixth figure climbed aboard and they were moving. Tweed glanced back again and swore under his breath. Seated on the rearmost plank next to Marler was Paula. She lifted her left hand and waggled it, giving him a little wave.

On the bridge of the Mao III Kim stood beside Captain Welensky, who for the first time sensed nervousness in the Chinese, although his face remained impassive. They were hardly moving and behind them the Yenan was also nearly motionless.

`Well,' the captain told Kim with unconcealed satisfaction, 'we have made our correct landfall. The radio messages from the shore prove it.'

No more than what I would have expected,' snapped Kim.

`You sound tired,' Welensky ribbed him.

`I sense danger.' Again Kim snapped.

Welensky followed as Kim moved towards the weapons-control complex. Kim gave the order over the fixed microphone.

`Prepare missiles for launching. Red alert.'

Standing in front of a console, Kim inserted a key. The metal lid slid out of sight. A row of inset buttons, each a different colour, appeared. He only had to pass one and a missile would be launched.

When he had given the order two flaps near the prow had opened back, exposing the mouths of the slim silos housing twelve missiles. Kim remained by the console, hands clasped behind his back.

`Are you crazy?' Welensky roared. 'We are just off the coast of Denmark – not out in the middle of the bloody Pacific.'

`Has the retractable staircase been dropped?' Kim asked, his voice now calm. 'It must be in place for General Chang to come aboard. I will receive him. Kindly leave the bridge.'

`I am the skipper of this vessel,' Welensky said quietly. `So long as I am, I remain on the bridge.'

`If you insist.'

Kim decided it was pointless having a confrontation with Welensky at this critical moment. Kim was quite capable of taking control of the ship. They would cut Welensky's throat, weight him, and throw him overboard on the return journey to Cam Ranh Bay in Vietnam.

Peering out of the narrow window almost flush with the curved deck, Kim saw a large man mounting the staircase over the hull. He opened a door and bowed low as Dr Wand came on to the bridge.

`Welcome aboard my most humble ship, General.'

Seated at the rear of the dinghy alongside Marler, who had one hand on the tiller, Paula gripped the underside of the plank tightly. The nightmare was starting all over again.

She recalled her lonely vigil at Lymington marina. Dense drifting fog. The terrifying incident aboard the Holsten. Again, dense swirling fog on the Elbe. As the dinghy moved straight out to sea the same atmosphere overwhelmed her – more fog, drifting slowly, assuming horrific shapes. She peered into it, convinced that something was close – and not one of Norlin's dinghies.

The fog cleared away briefly. She heard the chug-chug of a ship's engine on the starboard bow, stiffened. Marler whipped up his rifle. Tweed was the first to see clearly the launch, slowing down: the tall figure wearing a roll- necked white sweater. Dave Lane. He shouted at Marler.

`Lower that blasted rifle. These are friends.'

`Care to come aboard?' Lane enquired. 'Told you I would be coming south from the harbour to join the party.'

`Yes, we would indeed,' Tweed said with feeling. 'Get us out of this damned toy boat…'

He was the first on the launch's deck and helped Paula to come aboard. The others followed and then helped Lane and two of his crew to haul the dinghy aboard. Tweed became very active.

`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.

`Justice, mate,' Cardon said aloud. 'You did that to our Paula. Enjoy yourself..

He was back in his old position, lying behind the top of the ridge when he saw a sight which made him wonder if he could believe his own eyes. The Yenan – its engines so silent he had no warning of what was coming – raced ashore at full speed, its momentum carrying it through the shallows and half-way up the beach.

Smaller than the Mao, it was still a large vessel. Cardon stared as the huge whale-like shape, its prow carving a deep fissure in the sand, rocketed ashore. For a moment it remained upright – half on the beach, half in the sea. Then it keeled over to port with an earth-shaking smack and lay still.

A fleet of dinghies with green lights and full of men with Balaclavas landed on either side. Norlin's troops stood waiting and as dazed passengers emerged they were handcuffed. Any resistance was discouraged with a tap on the head with a gun barrel.

Tweed's launch appeared, paused off shore. Tweed and the others were so anxious to reach land they stepped into the sea and trudged the last few yards on to the beach. Cardon ran to greet Tweed who had Paula clutching his arm.

`I have Starmberg trussed up like a Christmas turkey.' `Christmas has come early this year,' Tweed replied.