Exocet

8

At that time, because of the Falklands situation, unusually large crowds had started to congregate in Downing Street and the police had been compelled to take action, cordoning off most of the street.

When Ferguson showed his special pass, his car was allowed through and dropped him outside Number 10, five minutes early for his appointment with the Prime Minister. The policeman on duty saluted, the door was opened even before Ferguson reached it, and he passed inside.

The young aide who greeted him, said, 'This way, Brigadier, the Prime Minister is expecting you.'

Ferguson followed him up the main staircase, not for the first time in his career, past the portraits of previous Prime Ministers, Peel, Wellington, Disraeli, Gladstone. It always filled him with an acute sense of history and he wondered whether the woman who held the most august office in the land, was similarly affected. Probably so. If anyone had a sense of history and destiny, she did. He doubted whether the Falklands venture could have gone forward without her strength of purpose and courage behind it.

In the top corridor, the young man knocked on a door, opened it and ushered Ferguson inside. 'Brigadier Ferguson, Prime Minister,' he said and left, closing the door.

The study was just as elegant as when Ferguson had last seen it, with pale green walls and gold curtains and comfortable furniture in excellent taste. But as always, nothing could have been more elegant than the woman behind the desk in the neat blue suit and white blouse, the blonde hair perfectly groomed.

She looked at him calmly. 'The last time we had dealings, Brigadier, was in connection with a possible attempt on my life.'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'Your efforts on that occasion were not conspicuously successful. If the would-be assassin had not thought better of the matter here in this very room…'

She let her words hang for a while and then carried on. 'I see that the Director-General of Intelligence has seen fit, in his wisdom, to place you in charge of all matters relating to the Exocet question.'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'I understand that the Libyans had intended to provide the Argentinians with additional supplies, but thanks to pressure from our friends in the Arab world, this is no longer likely?'

'That is correct, Prime Minister.'

'Is there any possibility that the Peruvians might try to help?'

'That contingency has already been taken care of ma'am. We…'

'Please, Brigadier, spare me the details. Which only leaves the French, and I have Monsieur Mitterand's personal assurance that the arms embargo will stay in force.'

'I'm pleased to hear it, ma'am.'

She stood up, walked to the window and looked out. 'Brigadier, if one Exocet hits either Hermes or Invincible, the entire course of this conflict is changed. We would almost certainly have to withdraw.' She turned. 'Can you assure me that there is no possibility of further Exocets reaching the Argentine from any source whatever?'

'No, ma'am, I'm afraid I can't.'

'Then I suggest you do something about that, Brigadier,' she said calmly. 'Department Four has full power — total authority from this office. Use it, Brigadier, use it any way you can, for the sake of our men in the South Atlantic, for all our sakes.'

'Thank you, Prime Minister. I'll do my best, I can assure you of that.'

Ferguson got the door opened and went out. The eyes of those previous Prime Ministers seemed to follow him as he went down the stairs. He wondered if he'd just secured himself a small niche in history, but decided probably not. Even if it all works perfectly, it was the kind of thing they'd all deny had happened. He chuckled to himself as the aide bowed him to the front door and showed him out.

As Harry Fox and Ferguson went up in the lift at Kensington Palace Gardens, Fox said, 'We're wasting our time, sir. When I tried to speak to her on the phone, she just told me to get lost.'

'We'll see,' Ferguson said.

He pushed open the lift door, went around the corner to Gabrielle's flat and knocked. After a while the door opened on the chain and she peered out.

'What do you want?'

'To talk to you.'

'Well I don't want to talk to you. Clear off!'

She started to close the door and he pushed his foot in. 'Not even about Raul Montera?'

She stared blankly at him, then took off the chain and turned away. Ferguson followed her in and Fox closed the door behind them.

She went and stood by the fire and lit one of her rare cigarettes. 'Well, get on with it.'

She looked magnificent in her anger, eyes full of hate, and Ferguson decided to go in with both feet.

'Raul Montera arrives in Paris tomorrow to liaise with a man called Felix Donner who the Argentine Government believes can procure them an additional supply of Exocet missiles. I need to find out what they're up to and stop them. I want you to go to Paris, make contact with Montera again, and do whatever is necessary to help us stop them cold.'

'You must be crazy. I'll never work for you again. Never.'

'It's your duty. You're still a British citizen.'

'I am also a citizen of France. That makes me neutral.'

'Impossible,' he said calmly. 'Your half-brother, sublieutenant Richard Brindsley, is serving as a helicopter pilot on board HMS Invincible, as you very well know.'

'Stop it!' she said desperately. 'I won't listen.'

'He is serving with 820 Squadron,' Ferguson carried on relentlessly. 'The same squadron as Prince Andrew. Let me tell you what one of his more unpleasant duties is. The Sea Kings are frequently used to act as decoys for Exocet missiles. Prince Andrew and your brother and their comrades act in the belief that an Exocet cannot fly above twenty-seven feet. They hover, present an attractive radar target, protecting the ship of the fleet. The idea is to gain height quickly at the last moment possible, so that the missile passes beneath them. Unfortunately, rogue Exocets have been known to exceed that height. I'll spare you a description of the possibilities.'

She was almost beside herself with rage and fear. 'I won't listen. Leave me alone.'

'And then there's your friend, Montera. A gallant fool if ever I saw one, but the enemy in this war, Gabrielle, make no mistake about that. A man who has flown a Skyhawk with a five thousand pound bomb load to attack the British fleet in San Carlos Water on no fewer than twelve occasions. I wonder which frigate he helped sink?'

She turned away. Ferguson nodded to Fox and went out. Fox closed the door and found him in the lift, his face strained.

'I told you it was a waste of time.'

'Nonsense,' Ferguson said. 'She'll go.' As the lift descended he said, 'She'll need a man, Harry, to back her up. Someone totally dependable and quite ruthless. Do you know where Tony is at this moment?'

'Operating behind Argentinian lines somewhere in the Falklands with the SAS.'

'Exactly. I thought I might need him so I sent a signal last night, utmost priority. I want him pulled out. Picked up by submarine and off-loaded into Uruguay. It's only fourteen hours by plane from Montevideo to Paris. Our people at the Embassy in Montevideo can have the necessary papers waiting for him.'

They went out and down the steps towards the car. He said, 'I know, Harry, don't bother to say it. I'm the great original bastard of all time.'

Belov and Garcia sat with Donner in the study of his apartment and waited while Wanda poured coffee.

'That's fine,' Donner said to her. 'Any business calls from the corporation in London, you handle and tell Yanni to stand by. I may need him.'

She went out and he said to Garcia, 'So, Colonel Montera arrives tomorrow? You've brought me that file on him I asked for, I trust? I like to know who I'm dealing with.'

'Of course.' Garcia opened his briefcase and produced a small folder which he pushed across.

Donner opened it, studied the photo it contained of Montera, and quickly scanned the details on the sheets.

'Excellent,' he said at last. 'What arrangements have you made as regards accommodation?'

'A hotel didn't seem like a good idea,' Garcia said, 'and certainly not the Embassy. I've leased a small service flat for him in an apartment block on the Avenue de Neuilly by the Bois de Boulogne.' He passed a card across. 'There's the address and telephone number.'

'Good.' Donner nodded. 'I'll make the necessary contact with him once he arrives.'

Garcia said, 'I was wondering when we might have some further details as to exactly what you intend.' There was a kind of exasperation in his voice. 'I mean, you've still given us not the slightest hint where you expect to get the Exocets from.'

'And I don't intend to,' Donner said. 'Not until the very last moment. This is a matter of the utmost delicacy. The fewer people who know my source, the better. I'm sorry but that's the way I work.' He shrugged. 'Of course if you're not satisfied, it would still be possible to pull out.'

'Good God, no,' Garcia said hastily. 'I didn't mean that, not for a moment.'

'I'm glad to hear it. Now, if you wouldn't mind leaving us alone for a moment. You can wait in the next room. I'm sure Wanda can find you some more coffee.'

Garcia went out. Belov said, 'Amateurs. What on earth is one supposed to do with them?'

'Keep them out of harm's way, that's what,' Donner said. 'I've already made it plain to Paul Bernard that under no circumstances does he discuss with Garcia his dealings with me.'

'Who therefore knows nothing about your interest in Ile de Roc?'

'Exactly.'

'And can you trust Bernard?'

'Oh, yes, the good professor has really got the bit between his teeth. Looks upon the whole thing as a kind of crusade. I haven't been explicit, but he obviously thinks I intend to hijack one of the Aerospatiale trucks which transport Exocets by road to the island every so often. Mind you, if he knew my exact intentions, he might not be so pleased. But he has served my purpose very well.'

'And what happens to him afterwards?'

'Something suitably dramatic, I think, like being found dead with a gun in one hand and a suicide note, regretting his involvement in a conspiracy against his own country to obtain Exocets for the Argentine Government. French Intelligence will have little difficulty in establishing that he gave all that technical assistance early in the campaign. According to Garcia, he was on the telephone to Buenos Aires answering queries for lengthy periods on a number of occasions. It should all come out very satisfactorily. France is, after all, a democracy. Three cheers for a free press.'

'You really do think of everything, don't you?'

'I try. Now to something you can help me with. I need an address where I can pick up some muscle.'

'How many men?'

'I'd say about eight, which makes ten with me and Stavrou. Ample for my purposes if they are the right breed. Thorough-going hoods. Nothing fancy about using their brains. The kind of men who will kill if the price is right.'

'There's always the Union Corse,' Belov said.

The Union Corse was the largest crime syndicate in France, a truly formidable organisation whose tentacles reached out everywhere from the judiciary to the government itself.

Donner shook his head. 'I don't think so. They may be gangsters, those boys, but they're inclined to be patriotic. The curse of the French, Nikolai, or hadn't you noticed? Even the communist variety look upon themselves as Frenchmen first.'

'Point taken,' Belov said. 'But we do have other contacts. You could really do with mercenaries rather than ordinary gangsters.'

'Or gangsters who've seen service in the army. God knows, there must still be plenty of those around in France after all those years in Algiers.'

'Leave it with me.'

Donner opened a drawer, took out a sheet of paper and passed it across. 'I'll also need the items on there.'

Belov examined the list and raised his eyebrows. 'You intend to go to war, to judge by this little lot?'

'You could put it that way.'

At that moment, the door opened and Juan Garcia entered. He was trembling with excitement, eyes shining. 'What is it, for God's sake?' Belov demanded.

'Today gentlemen, is the 25th of May, you know what that means in the Argentine?'

'I can't say I do.'

'It is our national day, a day which will go down in our history as one on which we dealt the British navy the most crushing blow of the war. It's on now, a newsflash on television. Come and see,' and he turned and hurried out.

In the office at Cavendish Place, Ferguson put down the red phone, his face grave.

Harry Fox said, 'Is it bad, sir?'

'You could say that. The destroyer, HMS Coventry, was attacked by Skyhawks while protecting vessels landing supplies at San Carlos. She may also have been hit by an Exocet, we aren't sure yet. At least twenty dead and many wounded. She capsized.'

'My God,' Fox said.

'There's worse, Harry. The fifteen thousand ton container ship, Atlantic Conveyor, has also been taken out. Two Exocet hits definitely confirmed.' He shook his head. 'Because of her size on the radar screen, they probably thought she was one of the aircraft carriers.'

There was silence for a while, only the muted sounds of traffic from outside in the square. Fox said, 'What do we do now, sir?'

'I think that's obvious,' Ferguson told him. 'Don't you?'

When he knocked at the door of the flat in Kensington Palace Gardens for the second time that day, there was a delay before slow steps approached and the door opened on the chain.

Gabrielle looked out. She stared at them for a long moment, then opened the door and led the way into the sitting room. She was wearing the old bathrobe and looked dreadful, her hair tousled, eyes swollen.

'You've heard the news,' Ferguson asked gently.

She nodded. 'Yes.'

'And?'

She took a deep breath and folded her arms as if holding herself together. 'When do you want me to go?'

'Tomorrow, I think. You still have the apartment on the Avenue Victor Hugo?'

'Yes.'

'Good. Get yourself settled in. You'll be informed what to do by our man in Paris, or if necessary Harry can go over on the shuttle to see you. And there is one more thing.'

She looked incredibly weary now. 'And what would that be?'

'You'll need a back-up man. Someone totally reliable, to be on hand in case you get into trouble.'

It was as if she knew what was coming. Her eyes widened in a kind of horror. 'You've sent for Tony?'

'That's right. He should be here in thirty-six hours at the outside.'

She shook her head helplessly. 'I'd like to kill you, Ferguson. I really would like to see you dead and I've never wished that on any human being in my life. See what you've done to me? You and people like you, corrupt everything you touch.'

'Harry will make your travel arrangements,' he said. 'He'll be in touch. Take a couple of pills, get some sleep. You'll feel better for it.'

When they went outside, it had started to rain. Ferguson paused to button up his coat and Fox said, 'Can she handle it, sir? It's expecting a hell of a lot. I mean, the impression I get is that she's head over heels in love with Raul Montera.'

'Yes, an interesting situation,' Ferguson said. 'But we don't really have any choice, do we?' He glanced up at the rain and raised his collar as he went down the steps. 'All of a sudden I feel old, Harry. What do you think about that? Very, very old.'

In Buenos Aires, the Plaza in front of the National Congress Building was crammed with thousands of excited people, hundreds of blue and white Argentinian flags waving everywhere.

The crowd roared, above the hooting of car horns: Argentina! Argentina! On a balcony in full uniform, silver hair swept back, arm raised in salute like a Roman emperor, Galtieri took the plaudits of the crowd.

And then the voices changed, became a chorus like the sea rushing in, carrying everything before it and the word that they repeated over and over again like a litany, was Exocet.

Ferguson was sitting by the fire in the flat toasting crumpets when Fox came in with a signal in his hand.

'Oh, I wanted to see you, Harry. Who have we got at the Paris Embassy who isn't a complete idiot?'

Fox thought about it. 'George Corwin is a possibility, sir. Was a captain in the Green Howards when we recruited him. Did quite well in Ireland. His mother is French, that's why we posted him to Paris.'

'Excellent. He can pick Montera up when he arrives from Buenos Aires. Find out where he's staying and liaise with Gabrielle till Tony gets in. Talking about Tony, what's happening there?'

'I was just bringing this signal to show you, sir. Text of a message from H.Q. at San Carlos via SAS headquarters at Hereford.'

'What's it say?'

'Confirm Major Villiers and Sergeant Major Jackson en route as ordered.'

'I wonder how Tony took it, being hauled out of the action like that.'

'I shouldn't imagine he'd be too pleased,' Fox said.

'Well that would make sense, knowing our Tony,' Ferguson said. 'After all, it's the only war he's got.'