Алистер Маклин: Time of the Assassins

The door opened fractionally. ‘Kill the lights,’ Bernard hissed from inside.

Demerest switched off the lights.

‘Get in here!’ Bernard snapped.

Demerest climbed out of the car and slipped into the kitchen. Bernard had handcuffed himself to Rosie. He held the automatic in his free hand.

‘Hey, man, careful with that thing,’ Demerest said nervously, indicating the automatic which was pointed at his midriff.

‘Take off the balaclava,’ Bernard said softly.

Demerest pulled it off to reveal his face. He was in his late thirties with cropped brown hair and a gold sleeper in his left ear. ‘Satisfied?’ he said sharply.

‘Get that blanket,’ Bernard said pointing to the blanket on the table. ‘Drape it over Rosie and me then lead us out to the car. ‘We’ll ride in the back. They won’t risk a shot if they can’t see me.’

Demerest tugged the balaclava back over his face then, glancing quickly at Rosie, unfolded the blanket and covered them with it. Bernard pulled Rosie to him and pressed the automatic into her ribs. She winced as the barrel dug into her but said nothing. She wouldn’t give Bernard the satisfaction of knowing he was hurting her.

‘Let’s go,’ Bernard snapped from under the blanket.

Demerest wiped the sweat from his face. He knew there would be rifles trained on the back door. What if they opened fire when he opened it?

‘Demerest, what the hell’s going on?’ Bernard snarled. ‘I said, let’s go.’

‘OK,’ Demerest replied irritably.

He eased the door open and held his breath as he stepped outside. No gunfire. So far, so good. He grabbed Bernard’s arm through the blanket and led them to the car. He opened the back door. Bernard kept Rosie close to him as he ducked into the back seat, making it impossible for the snipers to distinguish between the shapes under the blanket. Demerest slammed the door shut behind them. He got in behind the wheel and looked in the rear-view mirror. Bernard and Rosie were lying on the back seat, the blanket over them. No sniper would risk a shot. Demerest still felt vulnerable. They could take him out at any time – one bullet, that’s all it would take.

‘Start the car, dammit!’ Bernard shouted. ‘And no lights.’

Demerest muttered an apology as he grated the gears. His hands were shaking. He tried again. This time he found first gear. He turned the car round and headed back down the driveway but instead of branching off onto the approach road he headed towards the silhouette of the Huey on the edge of the clearing.

‘Park as close as you can to the helicopter,’ Bernard told him.

Demerest pulled up beside the cabin door and killed the engine. He climbed out of the car and glanced towards the wood. He could see some figures standing in the shadows. Obviously not from the SWAT team. They would be invisible in their black uniforms. That only unnerved him even more. How many unseen guns were aimed at him at that very moment? He pushed the thought from his mind. He was scared enough as it was. He pulled open the cabin door and peered inside. There was a small set of metal steps close to the door. He unhooked them from the wall and placed them in front of the door.

‘Ready,’ he told Bernard through the open driver’s window.

‘Open the back door.’

Demerest did so and Bernard wriggled backwards, taking Rosie with him. A hand pushed her head down as she felt her foot touch the ground. The hand remained on her head until she was out of the car.

‘There’s some steps in front–’

A bullet ricocheted off the side of the helicopter, inches above Demerest’s head. Bernard froze as he forced himself not to pull the trigger. He felt Rosie’s body stiffen against his. She closed her eyes, waiting for him to kill her. Demerest was down on one knee, his eyes wide with fear. They heard the shouted order from the direction of the wood. Then silence.

‘Bernard?’ Stephens yelled through the bullhorn. ‘Don’t harm the girl. It was an accident. There’ll be no more shooting.’

Bernard winced as the sweat seeped into his eyes. He eased his finger off the trigger but kept the automatic pressed into her ribs. He heard himself sigh. It had been that close. He’d so nearly lost his ace.

‘Demerest?’ he hissed. ‘Demerest?’

‘I’m here,’ Demerest said, straightening up.

‘Lead us to the steps,’ Bernard ordered.

Demerest took Bernard’s arm through the blanket and talked them up the steps into the back of the helicopter. He kicked the steps away, slammed the door shut then scrambled into the cockpit and started up the engine.

Bernard discarded the blanket and, careful to remain flat on the cabin floor, he unlocked the handcuff from his wrist and secured it around a metal pipe that ran the length of the wall. He wiped the sweat from his face and inhaled sharply as his thumb brushed against the wound above his eye. ‘How long before we can take off?’ he called out to Demerest.

‘Almost ready,’ came the reply.

Bernard allowed himself a faint smile of satisfaction. He looked across at Rosie. She stared back at him, her face expressionless.

Then the helicopter began to rise.

Graham and Whitlock had used the cover of darkness to slip away unnoticed from the others but by the time they had reached the back of the house the car was already heading away down the driveway. They waited until it had turned off into the clearing before breaking cover and sprinting to the steps at the side of the house. It was then that Whitlock had discovered the body of Brett slumped against the half-open cellar door. Graham had remained crouched at the top of the steps, out of sight of the car which had by then pulled up next to the helicopter.

Although armed, he knew the Beretta would be of little use from that range. There were snipers all around the house who would take Bernard out if he did make a mistake. If. But Graham knew Bernard better than any of them. Bernard wouldn’t make a mistake. Which was why he and Whitlock had come up with an alternative plan. Whitlock, because of his injured arm, could only be a bystander. It simply added to his frustration. But he wanted to be with Graham when they put their plan into operation. They had a bond, an alliance. Bernard had escaped after Carrie and Mikey had gone missing. And now he was threatening to do the same again. Only this time he was using Rosie. And they knew her life would be worthless if he did manage to flee the country and start up a new life somewhere else. He had to be stopped.

Whitlock put a hand lightly on Graham’s shoulder. Graham gave him a thumbs-up then broke cover and sprinted towards the helicopter as it began to slowly lift off the ground.

Demerest only saw Graham out of the corner of his eye when he was within ten yards of the helicopter. He instinctively applied more pressure on the collective-lever pitch to force the helicopter to climb further away from the ground. Graham, realizing he wouldn’t reach the nearest landing pad from the ground, scrambled onto the Datsun’s bonnet, then onto its roof, before launching himself at the pad. The fingers of his right hand touched the cold steel. He clamped his hand in a vice-like grip around the pad as the helicopter continued to rise further away from the ground. His arm felt as if it were going to be pulled out of its socket. Slowly, carefully, he brought up his left hand and his fingers curled around the pad, easing the pressure off his right arm. He began swaying from side to side then, when he felt he had enough momentum, he heaved himself upwards and managed to hook his right leg around the pad. Then he looked down. The helicopter was already a hundred feet above the ground and still climbing.

Demerest continued to glance anxiously out of the side window at Graham, mesmerized by the agility he’d used to haul himself up onto the landing pad. Bernard, who had already been alerted by Demerest, had his automatic at the ready, waiting. He knew instinctively it was Graham. It was exactly the sort of stunt he would pull. The man had a death wish. But he couldn’t do anything until the helicopter was clear of the wood – and the snipers. And that was giving Graham valuable seconds to stabilize himself on the landing pad. Bernard knew what he had to do when he pulled open the door. His fingers tightened around the automatic.