Алистер Маклин - Prime Target

‘I don’t think the bullet went into you,’ Mike told him. ‘How do you feel? Can you stand up?’

Wolff nodded, gasping to pull in air, pointing to the waistband of his trousers.

‘The disks,’ Mike said. ‘I know.’ He pulled Wolff to his feet and pushed him through the state-room door. ‘Help him walk,’ he told Erika.

‘Watch that box,’ Erika called back out as Sabrina led them out on to the jetty. ‘It’s a bomb. Reflex detonator, I think.’

Mike hoisted Ahlin off the floor by the armpits and leaned him against the wall. He pat-searched him then slapped his face until he came round. When the blue eyes fluttered open Mike spun him away from the wall and out on to the stairs.

‘He’s coming up, Sabrina,’ he shouted. ‘Keep the gun on him and shoot him if he puts one foot wrong.’

Mike shouldered the rifle and picked up the bomb. He carried it up on deck and set it carefully in the prow. As he straightened, Sabrina cried out. He saw her stumble aside, then he was pushed violently from behind.

‘Move aside, Mr Yankee Hero,’ Ahlin rasped, staggering past Mike.

He turned and before Mike could grab him he sat on the bomb. The plunger went down with a grating sound as it took his weight.

‘Now then,’ he said, swaying, touching the side of the hull for support. ‘I think you and I should stay right here.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Mike said. He turned. ‘Get on shore, Sabrina. Run!’

‘If I stand up,’ Ahlin said, ‘you’ll come to paradise with me. Nobody can run fast enough to dodge this touch of nemesis.’ He slapped the bomb beneath him. ‘Care to take me up on that?’

Mike said nothing. He looked at the others, at the far end of the jetty now, edging on to the path. Wolff moved slowly, staggering as Sabrina and Erika urged him to walk faster. They were still too close.

‘If you try anything, I’ll stand up at once.’ Ahlin clasped his hands behind his head. ‘Tell me now, does this seem oddly relaxed?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘It does look laid-back, no? But in fact it has a purpose.’ Ahlin brought his hands away from his neck. The right hand held a revolver, identical to the one he used to shoot Wolff. ‘A jacket collar pocket. You have encountered it before, surely?’

He laughed and raised both arms above his head. Mike made a grab for the pistol. Ahlin threw it from one hand to the other.

‘Erika!’ he shouted.

She turned. Ahlin fired the pistol at her. She dropped at Sabrina’s feet.

‘For treachery!’ Ahlin shouted, wincing as Mike tore the gun from his hand.

Sabrina knelt and touched Erika’s neck. She looked up and shook her head.

‘You killed her,’ Mike said.

‘She deserved it. So do you, Yank. Don’t fret, it won’t be long.’

Mike sighed. He eased the rifle up on his shoulder. ‘You’re a savage, Einar. I’d like to break all your fingers, one after the other. But that would put me too close to your league.’

‘So what will you do?’

Mike reached out and put his hand flat on Ahlin’s head, pressing down hard, keeping him seated. He pushed him back sharply. He was leaning on the hull, supported on either side by boxes.

‘A little anaesthetic.’

Mike slid his hand down off Ahlin’s head and along the side of his neck. Ahlin’s hands came up to defend himself but Mike’s arm wouldn’t be deflected. His fingers went under the collar of Ahlin’s shirt and found the brachial plexus. He squeezed. Ahlin’s head dropped forward. Mike stood back a second, then turned smartly and crossed the deck. He leapt on to the jetty and ran to the others.

‘Ten minutes, I’d say, before he comes round. How are you doing, Andreas?’

‘I could be much worse,’ Wolff croaked. ‘I also could have had more luck.’ He looked at Erika lying by the jetty. ‘Perhaps we all could.’

‘It’s been one of those days.’ Mike crouched to pick up Erika’s body. ‘Help Andreas up the hill, will you, Sabrina? While there’s a lull, I think we should get ourselves to a safe vantage point.’

Four minutes later a police firearms unit arrived. They brought with them a senior officer, who carried an attaché case with a million dollars in used bills.

Mike explained the situation. The tension among the policemen ebbed.

‘There’s nothing to do but wait,’ Mike said.

Erika’s body was put on a stretcher, covered with a blanket and placed in the back of the police wagon. The marksmen took up positions on the hill overlooking the jetty, their tele-sights trained on the unconscious man in the launch. Mike sat on the grass talking quietly to Andreas Wolff, who was feeling sick.

As the minutes ticked away Sabrina realized some of the men were moving further down the hill.

‘Stay back!’ she warned. ‘That’s a big charge he’s sitting on!’

Some of them took notice. Others froze where they were, re-positioning their guns, re-focusing their sights.

From where Sabrina stood she could see the launch clearly. She didn’t want a close-up. She could make out Einar Ahlin’s shape in the prow. She could see him moving. Ahlin’s neck straightened, he rubbed the back of his head, then cupped both hands over his eyes. As his hands dropped away he looked up at the hillside.

‘He doesn’t understand what’s happening,’ a policeman said. ‘He’s dazed.’

‘I hope he stays that way,’ Sabrina said.

She saw Ahlin rub his eyes, as if he might sink back and go to sleep again. Then abruptly he stood up.

Everybody seemed to stop breathing. Ahlin stood motionless, looking round at where he had been sitting. He stiffened visibly, then took a step away from the prow.

The bomb went off with a blinding gold flash. A second later the roar travelled up the hillside and behind it the shockwave, bending bushes, knocking over a gun tripod and whipping off hats and spectacles.

Debris began to land like rain. The air was filled with cloudy vapour. Some of that, Sabrina thought, was Einar Ahlin. He was now what explosives experts referred to as pink mist.

‘So it’s over,’ Andreas Wolff said. ‘One less lunatic, making space for one more.’

‘The police are here, so are the medical services, and there are one or two people I suspect are Federal German Security,’ Sabrina told Philpott over the mobile phone. ‘It’s a circus. Thanks to Mike’s touch of ingenuity with Einar Ahlin, it’s a very grisly circus. There’s nothing left of the boat, apart from flotsam.’

Philpott asked how badly Wolff was hurt.

‘The bullet hit him right in the software, sir. Four metal-and-plastic laminated disks of it. Didn’t even break his skin, but I think he’s going to have a badly bruised abdomen.’

‘Did those four disks represent all of the security protocols?’ Philpott said. He sounded grim.

‘I haven’t asked yet. But considering the amount of data even one of those disks can hold, I would imagine he’d get everything on to four of them.’

‘Maybe he had back-ups.’

‘Opticals are pretty secure. People don’t tend to make extra copies.’

‘Well thank you for poking those rays of golden light into my day,’ Philpott said. ‘Call me back when you have more to report.’

‘I certainly will.’

‘Next time we speak I’ll have details of your next mission.’

‘It’s cooking already?’

‘C.W. is on the case. You know what they say about there being no rest for the wicked.’

‘Why should that apply to a virtuous soul like me?’

Philpott grunted. ‘Any other time I’d enjoy this light-hearted blather, Sabrina, but in view of what’s likely to happen to ICON, you’ll pardon me if I remain grumpy. Call me soon.’