The Savage Gorge

EIGHTEEN

With Marler at the wheel and Paula beside him, Hobartshire passed in a flash as they headed south. Turning onto the motorway, Marler pressed his foot down. They flew.

As far as Paula could tell, Marler kept just within all speed limits – she knew he had an instinct for speed traps. The drive was an experience she would never forget. Scenery passed in a blur – rolling green hills, a dense wood, a vast rocky quarry where strange machines prowled. Marler, wearing tinted goggles, had long ago passed her a pair to counter the searchlight glare of the sun burning out of an endless blue sky.

Some time before, Marler had turned south-west. Paula's thick glossy black hair was streaming out behind her. She found a pink ribbon, tied her hair into a ponytail. Later Marler pointed to a plastic box.

'Food,' he said abruptly.

She extracted thick salmon sandwiches, fed Marler as he continued driving, then herself. There was Evian water to quench their thirst. By now Paula was relaxed. I could get used to driving like this, she thought.

Occasionally she glanced in the rear-view mirror, at first surprised to find the heavy armoured Audi was only a hundred yards behind them, then remembering Harry had souped up its engine.

'Can you find out,' she asked Marler, 'when we are about half an hour from our destination?'

'You ask Ben,' he said, handing her his mobile after pressing umpteen buttons.

'Ben here. Who the hell is this?' a rough voice answered.

She identified them, giving the name of a winding village Marler had been compelled to crawl through. The rough voice wasted no time.

'Thirty minutes from now, the way Marler drives.'

Paula contacted Tweed on her mobile, which he still possessed. Her reminder was short. 'Paula here. The bottle, Tweed. Now!'

In the Audi, Tweed reached for the twist of paper inside which he had folded a Dramamine tablet. Tactfully, Harry handed him a bottle of Evian water without a word. Tweed swallowed the tablet.

The one aversion Tweed had was the sea. He dis liked even looking at it from firm land. 'It never stops wobbling about,' he had once explained to Paula. She knew this and always persuaded her chief to take pre cautions.

'How much further, I wonder?' speculated Harry. 'The sun is dropping into lower orbit.'

'Another thirty minutes and we're there,' Tweed replied. 'I gather we arrive just before dusk and go aboard the Tiger as soon as we get there.'

'The Tiger?'

'Name of the ship we travel on.'

'Don't like the sound of it.'

'Join the club,' Tweed commented.

'Are we travelling on a big ship?' Paula asked Marler.

'Surprisingly big. Even has a luxury stateroom. Compact but cosy.'

'How did Ben afford such a vessel?'

'Ben fished for prawns,' Marler chuckled. 'Off the cove there's a whole fleet of them. Biggest you've ever seen. He makes a fortune selling them to top London restaurants. Look at one of their menus. Prawns head the list for price.'

Marler stopped talking as the landscape changed dramatically. Great granite bluffs reared up out of scrubby grass on both sides. Vaguely it reminded Paula of pictures she had seen of Utah, but minus the columnar chimneys of stone. Here and there a stub born pine with a massive trunk lent a touch of green.

Marler slowed as they climbed a ridge on the nar rowing tarmacadam road. Once they crossed the ridge, the road dropped steeply. Paula almost gasped at the view of the vast sea which stretched forever towards a distant horizon. It was dusk and the sun, which had slid below the horizon, seemed to illumi nate the Channel from below with a weird aquamarine glow.

'There it is. Seaward Cove,' Marler told her.

'That's a cove?' she asked in disbelief.

She was looking down on a gash, long and narrow, piercing the massive cliffs. Projecting from the shore was a large stone jetty, curved like a sickle, presumably to take the force of giant waves in a storm. Moored to its inner wall was a large slim ship with a small funnel.

'Ben can't get that ship out of that channel,' she protested.

'He will. Only way out.'

She was relieved from Tweed's point of view that the ocean was more like a flat blue plate: not a ripple in sight. They reached the landing point in no time. Tweed's Audi parked behind them.

A short heavily built man in his fifties with a very wide chest came out of a large shed. He shook hands only with Paula, pointed to the shed.

'That's home and where I prepare the prawns for despatch to London.' He looked at Marler. 'Four hours I calculate to get to this invisible Noak Island, four to get back, so how long you gonna be foolin' around there?'

'About one hour, maybe longer. Depends on the element of danger,' Tweed told the old ruffian.

'Danger!' Ben glared at Marler. 'You never said a thing about that. Cost you another ten thousand quid on top of the fee.'

'Come off it,' Marler told Ben with a grin. 'You know that anything I'm involved in can turn ugly.'

'All right.' Ben cupped his hands round his mouth. 'All of you aboard. We have to be back here before dawn. Jump to it!'

Paula ran forward, skipped up the gangplank, ignoring Ben's shout. 'Hold on to the flamin' rails!'

He pulled his peaked cap lower over his broad forehead. This time he kept his voice down as he spoke to Tweed as he was about to go aboard.

'That girl is agile! – and very tough, I suspect.'

'She's in her thirties,' Tweed retorted and ran up the gangway.

He followed her along a companionway, through an open door, down some steps into a luxurious stateroom. She sprawled on a comfortable couch at the other end. They heard voices from the dock.

'What's in that big bag, mate?'

'My lunch,' Harry's voice shouted back. Tut a sock in it and get this old tub moving…'

Ben appeared at the entrance to the stateroom. He pointed forward.

'Galley's at that end. Fridge is jam-packed. You could cook us some plaice and chips. OK?'

'If I feel like it,' Paula snapped back.

Minutes later they felt movement. Tiger was about to navigate the impossible channel. As the ship swung round to clear the end of the jetty Tweed jumped up, opened a second door, ran up a flight of steps and was on the enclosed bridge. Marler was leaning through an open window on the starboard side, waving his hand to the left frantically. They were heading straight for a jagged spur of rock protruding into the channel, a spur which could rip a huge hole in the hull. He looked at Ben, who was already turning the ship to port. Peering over Marler's shoulders Tweed saw they slipped past the spur with a clearance of barely two feet. They emerged into the calm open sea.

'You can take over the wheel now, Marler,' shouted Ben. 'I have plotted the course from the map you sent me by courier. Just keep your ruddy eye on the com pass.'

With Marler behind the wheel, Ben opened the door to the stateroom. Paula was sitting up, legs curled like a cat's, studying a marine report.

'You're supposed to be cooking!' Ben bellowed. 'Can't you find the ruddy galley?'

'Cooking is not in the contract,' Paula snapped without looking up. 'Shouldn't you be on the bridge, as captain of this old tub?'

Ben muttered an oath under his breath, slammed the door shut. On the bridge Tweed was standing close to Marler, staring ahead with fascination at the incredible vastness of the Atlantic. The Tiger's port and starboard running lights were on. Ben saw him looking at them.

'Need 'em on in case we run into a Coastguard patrol. Further out I switches 'em off. Marler marked

Noak Island on the map he sent me. Talk about isolation – no airline flies near the place. And it's miles off any shipping route.'

'Mr Neville Guile likes his privacy,' Tweed said to himself.

Paula appeared and saw Harry, who had headed for the bridge as soon as he came aboard. Typically, he sat in a corner of the deck, knees bunched underneath him. He had his bag open, which carried an amazing mix of weapons and tools. He saw her watching him. She settled down beside him.

'What are these secret weapons you keep so quiet about? I might have to use one.'

Put your gloves on. The devices are slippery.'

He shifted position so they were shielded from the others. Out of the bag his gloved hand produced a cylindrical object about a foot long with a switch turned to green. Pushed forward it would point to red.

'For Pete's sake, and mine,' he whispered, 'don't touch that switch. You do and this whole ship explodes in flames, the sea boils. It's new, invented by Mac down in the boffins' basement.'

'What's inside?' she whispered.

'Mix of high-explosive and firebomb. Got five of the devils, all told. Don't know why Tweed wants 'em.'

Paula stood up, disappeared back into the state room. Tweed, on the bridge alongside Marler, was puzzled.

'We're gliding over the sea as though it were a skat ing rink. But no engine sound.'

'Ben explained that,' Marler said, glancing at the com pass and turning the wheel a fraction. 'The genius who built this vessel installed a special engine. If you listen carefully it makes no more sound than the purring of a cat. Another reason Noak won't know we're coming. Besides radar they'll have listening posts, I'm sure.'

Half an hour later someone was kicking the far side of the door from the stateroom. Tweed opened it and a glorious aroma offish and chips entered his nostrils. Paula stood with a large plastic tray. It had depressions for servings and smaller ones for plastic cups of Evian water. As a matter of form she served the master of the ship first. Ben stared as though he couldn't believe it. Then, greedily, he grabbed a plate offish and chips and a cup of water.

' You. ' He gave her a great big toothy grin. 'You was windin' me up.'

'Shut up and eat,' she snapped back at him.

For a while there was no conversation on the bridge as they concentrated on eating. Paula had fetched her own meal on a separate tray. She whispered to Tweed, 'I haven't seen Bob Newman anywhere. Is he still in London?'

'No, he's one of my secret weapons,' Tweed whis pered back. 'By now Guile will think he has identified my whole team. You, me, Harry and Marler. He won't know about Newman, who stays at one of those houses to let up the High Street. Don't know which one, don't want to know. He's wearing country clothes, a wide-brimmed straw hat and sunglasses. He mooches around, posing as an architect with his nose in a book. But I'll bet he doesn't miss a thing.'

On the bridge by the wheel Ben had gripped Marler hard by the arm. He was peering ahead at a dark bulk with a red light shining high up. Noak Island.

'That's why I switched off all my lights,' Ben explained, 'but somehow they've spotted us.'

'Well, at least it was such a calm voyage,' Paula called out to introduce a note of optimism.

'Won't be if we ever return,' growled Ben. 'Forecast is for a real twister of a storm which should hit us halfway back.'

'I think I've entered the gap in the radar zone,' Marler said.

'You have,' Ben agreed. As he spoke there was an explosion to starboard.

'They know we're coming,' Tweed warned.

'No, they don't,' called out Ben. 'That was an old wartime mine deciding to welcome us. Never heard of one being this far out, though.'

They were close in to what appeared to be a giant chunk of rock. Ben turned on a searchlight and Tweed stared. He had expected another dangerous gulch entrance like the one at Seaward Cove they had left far behind. Instead in the glare of Ben's light was a wide harbour enclosed by high stone walls.

'This map is out of date,' Marler complained.

'Unless Neville Guile has blasted rock to create a favourable entrance for large vessels,' Tweed sug gested.

'Like that one over there just going under,' Paula called out, and pointed.

Well over to port, away from Noak and the explod ing mine, the hull of a large vessel which had turned turtle protruded briefly above the surface of the smooth sea. Tweed felt sure it was a huge tanker as it slid below the sea, leaving behind a small ripple of waves.

'That were a tanker going down,' Ben said. 'Big job. What's it doin' 'ere?'

'The tanker that pirates hijacked in the East,' Marler said with a flash of inspiration.

'I think you're right,' Tweed agreed. 'And no oil seeping out – because it was all pumped ashore first onto Noak. I don't like pirates but I'll bet their bodies, each with a bullet in the back of the head, are lying in the hold. After they'd helped pump the oil ashore. No witnesses is one of Neville Guise's rules of business. And look at that cliff.'

A monster of a black cliff sheered up from the har bour. By now Ben had brought Tiger alongside an inner wall of one of the stone jetties. He picked up a great coil of rope, threw it at Harry.

'Get ashore with that, tie it round one of those stone bollards, then make fast the stern. I'll be there with more rope.'

Harry jumped to his feet, grabbed the rope coil and followed Ben down a ladder from the bridge to the main deck. Leaping over the narrow gap onto the jetty, he wound lengths of rope round the stone bollard.

Paula had skipped down the ladder behind Ben. He placed a huge ugly-looking knife beside the rope on deck.

'What's the knife for?' she asked.

'Always curious, you ladies. If we have to run for it in a hurry, that knife can cut through the rope in sec onds. Now I'm off to the stern. That Harry doesn't waste time.'

Paula shinned back up the ladder onto the bridge. Tweed was adjusting the glare light up the side of the precipitous cliff. At intervals he paused briefly. Paula saw a series of thick large rubber loops attached to the rock.

'What on earth -' she began.

'They attach a thick hose inside those loops and use a system to suck up the oil from the tanker berthed about where the Tiger is now.' He looked back to where Harry had appeared. 'Leather climbing boots for everyone except Ben. We've got to get to the top of this brute.'

Harry produced the boots from his capacious bag. On the soles were hard projections for clinging to ledges. At a fresh order from Tweed, Harry took out a backpack, slipped inside the torpedo-shaped weapons he had shown Paula – the firebombs. They began climbing, Tweed in the lead.

It was a difficult climb. The cliff face was almost vertical. Paula went up quickly, but tested her weight on every protruding spike of rock before trusting it. Harry was close behind her. She was about to turn to say something to him when Tweed's sharp whisper reached her as though he'd sensed what she was about to do.

'Nobody look down. That's a direct order. Look up! '

She hauled herself over the top before she realized how close to the summit she was. She pulled herself up the final few feet and sat still for a moment, breathing heavily. She looked down as Harry scrambled over with Marler close behind. Her mind began to swim with vertigo so she turned to look inland, amazed at the view.

A shallow slope led down no more than a hundred feet. She was staring at four vast container tanks, their roofs slightly curved. Beyond, the ground climbed steeply but at the far end of the island a long runway was laid out. A large plane stood at the takeoff end.

'You see,' said Tweed, seated close to her with the others very near, 'refineries and oil storage tanks. Contents – from that pirated tanker. Worth millions. Over on the far coast you can see a smaller fleet of tankers flying the Otranto flag. Neville planned on selling oil he'd not paid a penny for – to desperate countries who'd pay $100 a barrel for the stuff. Harry, I want all four of those oil tanks destroyed.'

'No sooner said than done,' Harry replied. Til hike to the one furthest away.'

'Can I help you?' Paula suggested.

'Yes. By sitting there and not getting in my bloody way.'

They all knew he'd been deliberately rude to stop her coming with him on what could be a suicide mis sion.

'Maybe I -' began Marler.

'If you'll all shut your big mouths maybe I can con centrate,' Harry told them.

Then he was gone. Running, crouched, down the slope, he was about to pass the nearest tank. Then he saw the ladder curving up its side. It would give him height and he must now be near the more distant tank. He had his backpack turned to rest on his stom ach. Arriving at the top he was closer to all four oil tanks than he'd expected. He extracted the first explo sive firebomb.

Taking a deep breath he hurled it with all his strength at the most distant tank. His bomb landed dead centre on its curved surface. As he hurtled a fresh bomb at a nearer tank his first bomb detonated with a sinister crack. There was a dull explosion, then it blew apart, emanating a fireball. His second bomb was increasing the blinding blaze over the whole stor age area.

He ran down the ladder, already feeling the heat from the fire. Running back up the slope, he paused, hurled two more bombs, one for each nearer tank. Then he ran like hell up the slope to join the others, gazing with disbelief at the spectacle. The flames from all four tanks had now merged into one massive inferno.

Paula had her binoculars pressed against her eyes.

They were aimed at the long runway with the large plane at the take-off point.

'They're all running for it. They're flying out. Plane's on the move. Guile has taken fright.'

'Didn't know how many of us there were,' Marler explained. 'It could have been a whole army.'

'Time to return to the ship,' Tweed decided. He grunted. 'It will be trickier descending that cliff than it was coming up. Be very careful.'

'Piece of cake,' said Harry. 'I need all your water bottles

Paula was puzzled. She watched as he withdrew from his pack a familiar object: a rope knotted at close intervals she had used to rescue MacBlade from the vertical tunnel under Black Gorse Moor. Producing a thick towel from the pack, he soaked it in water. After kicking a tall thick rock spike on the summit to test its strength he wrapped the towel round it a number of times, then tied the end of the rope over the wet towel.

'Now no danger of the rope fraying as we go down,' he explained. 'Everyone wears the best gloves they've got to ease the strain of their descent. Paula first. Then Tweed, with Marler behind him. I'll follow you lot.'

Paula already had her gloves on. Before she approached the rope she glanced inland. The big plane which would have Neville Guile aboard was already cruising down the runway prior to take-off. Mr Guile was a survivor.

Peering over the rim of the precipice, she saw

Harry's rope had reached the bottom. She bent down, grasped the first knot, continued to descend, not look ing down. She used her feet to keep her body clear of the rock. Her feet suddenly touched the ground. She was startled at the speed of her descent. Looking up, she saw Tweed about to land beside her, then Marler. Finally, Harry seemed to descend like a trapeze artist.

'Get aboard the ship fast!' Tweed ordered.

Ben asked no questions, concentrating on backing his ship out of the harbour. Paula ran down the steps onto the foredeck. She looked up and Harry was watching her from an open window on the bridge. Gazing back to the base of the cliff, she stiffened. No guards? A massive North African had appeared, hold ing an automatic weapon. The huge figure was elevating the muzzle to sweep the bridge with one lethal burst of fire. He would kill them all, and he was grinning sadistically at the prospect of mass slaughter.

'Take this, Paula,' Harry yelled, almost falling from the window.

Reaching up, her gloved hand helped her to grasp the slippery surface. Switch forward – to red. She counted to three. While at school she had excelled at rounders. She hurled the missile, aiming for the large rock overhang he was sheltered beneath.

The firebomb detonated with such power it made the ship shudder. Paula had briefly closed her eyes against the brilliant flash, then opened them in time to see the immense tonnage of rock fall and bury the guard forever. She sighed with relief.

'Good shot,' Harry called down calmly. 'You get the prize.'

Tweed, who had witnessed the entire episode, had kept his mouth closed. He turned to Ben.

'Sea's like the proverbial millpond again. So a quiet voyage back to base.'

'Probably not,' Ben growled. 'Remember the fore cast. About halfway back we'll have to fight a huge tornado-like storm…'