Алистер Маклин - Time of the Assassins

Demerest had initially wanted to drag the pads through the tops of the trees to try and dislodge Graham from the helicopter. Bernard had quickly ruled the idea out as too dangerous. What if one of the pads snagged on a thick branch? It could result in the helicopter losing altitude and ploughing into the trees.

Demerest see-sawed the helicopter from side to side, desperately trying to pitch Graham off the pad – to no avail. Graham clung resolutely on, waiting, almost cat-like, for the moment when Bernard would open the door. The trees ended abruptly at the edge of the freeway. Demerest called out to Bernard that they were clear of the wood.

Bernard reached out a hand then yanked open the door. He was still raising the automatic to fire when Rosie slammed the sole of her boot against the side of his face, ripping open the bruise above his eye. He screamed in agony and the automatic fell from his grasp as he stumbled backwards, his hand clasped over his eye. The blood poured down through his fingers onto his shirt. He caught her with a vicious backhand slap which slammed her against the side of the cabin, knocking a wooden box off the wall above her.

He was still reaching for the fallen automatic when Graham launched himself through the doorway and felled him with a low football tackle. Bernard landed heavily on the floor and the automatic skidded towards the open door. It came to rest a foot away from the door. Graham pulled his Beretta from his shoulder holster but Bernard managed to grab his wrist and force the barrel up towards the ceiling. He slammed the back of Graham’s hand against the side of the cabin and the Beretta fell from his fingers. He caught Graham with a hammering jab to the side of the face, rocking his head back against the floor.

Graham lashed out with his elbow, catching Bernard squarely on his gashed eyebrow. Bernard recoiled in agony but was quick to react when Graham reached for the fallen Beretta.

They grappled for possession of the automatic but as Bernard tore it from Graham’s hand, Graham butted him viciously in the face, again catching him on the eyebrow. Bernard stumbled and as he fell the Beretta spun from his hands and disappeared through the open doorway. He brought his foot up sharply into Graham’s stomach and as Graham buckled forward he caught him with a hammering punch to the face. Graham fell to his knees, his eyes watering from the force of the punch. Bernard dived for the Desert Eagle. Graham knew he could never reach Bernard before he recovered the automatic.

‘Hey, catch,’ Rosie shouted to Graham.

Graham turned to Rosie. She was holding the Very pistol which had fallen out of the box when it landed on the floor. She threw it to him. He didn’t even know if it was loaded, but there wasn’t time to find out. Bernard was already turning, the automatic in his hand.

Graham aimed the Very pistol at him and pulled the trigger. The aluminium-cased cartridge slammed into Bernard’s chest with the force of a hammer. He was rocked back on his heels and lost his balance as he stepped out of the doorway. He clawed frantically at the side of the cabin but his bloodied fingers couldn’t get a grip on the smooth surface and his eyes widened in horror as he fell backwards. The wind tore the scream from his lips as he plunged to his death.

Graham picked up the Desert Eagle which had slipped out of Bernard’s hand as he fell and pressed it into the back of Demerest’s neck. ‘Go back to the house.’

‘Sure thing, man,’ Demerest said nervously. ‘I don’t want any trouble.’

‘Give me your piece,’ Graham demanded.

‘I ain’t carrying,’ Demerest replied, shaking his head vigorously. ‘I never carry. I’m just a flier, man.’

Graham was convinced Demerest was telling the truth. ‘Give me the radio.’

Demerest unhooked the radio and handed it to Graham who called Philpott to let him know that they were returning to the safe house. He closed the cabin door then sat down beside Rosie and tilted her head gently as he looked at the discoloured bruise that was already beginning to form on her left cheek.

‘I’m OK,’ she said softly.

‘Did you load it?’ Graham asked, gesturing to the Very pistol on the floor in front of them.

She nodded. ‘I wanted to shoot him myself but I couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger. I’m sorry.’

Graham smiled gently at her. ‘What are you apologizing for? You saved my life, Rosie. Thanks.’

‘Who are you?’

‘My name’s Mike.’

‘Mike Graham?’

‘Yeah, how did you know?’

She took a cassette from her pocket and handed it to him. ‘Bernard – that is his name, isn’t it?’ Graham nodded. ‘Well, he gave it to me before we left the house. He said I was to give it to my uncle when I saw him again. He was to give it to you.’

‘Did he say what was on the tape?’

She shook her head.

Graham sat back against the side of the cabin and turned the cassette around slowly in his fingers. His name had been printed in capital letters on both sides in black pen. It had to contain something about Carrie and Mikey. But it didn’t make any sense. Bernard wasn’t the sort of man to gloat. It wasn’t in his nature. So why had he made the cassette for him? The question lingered in his mind for the rest of the journey back to the safe house.

The helicopter was surrounded by members of the SWAT team when it landed in the clearing. Demerest closed down the engine then unbuckled his safety belt and clambered out of the cockpit. He was immediately handcuffed and led away towards a police car.

The door was pulled open from the outside and Whitlock peered anxiously into the cabin. Rosie smiled at him then bit her lip as a tear trickled down her face. Graham helped Whitlock into the cabin then went off to find something to use to cut Rosie free.

‘Thank God you’re safe,’ Whitlock said, hurrying over to her.

She hugged him and suddenly the tears began to spill down her face. Whitlock took a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her. She smiled self-consciously as she wiped her eyes.

‘Who hit you?’ he asked, a sudden anger entering his voice. ‘Bernard?’

She nodded. ‘I’m OK. What happened to your arm?’

‘It’s nothing,’ he replied with a dismissive shrug. ‘Your parents are going to be over the moon when they find out you’re safe. So will Carmen. We’ve all been out of our minds with worry.’

‘Is it still alright if I come and stay with you and Carmen for a few days? Just until I feel strong enough to face my parents again.’

‘The spare bed’s already made up,’ Whitlock replied. ‘You can stay as long as you want, you know that.’

‘Knock, knock,’ Graham said, peering into the cabin.

‘Come in, Mike,’ Whitlock said, looking round at Graham.

Graham climbed back into the helicopter, a small hacksaw in his hand. ‘We’ll have you out of here in no time, Rosie.’

‘How come you two know each other?’ Rosie asked as Graham crouched down beside her.

Graham glanced at Whitlock, waiting for him to answer. It was up to him to decide whether he was going to tell her about UNACO. In some ways Graham felt she deserved an explanation but he wouldn’t say anything, not without Whitlock’s lead.

Whitlock gave her a knowing smile. ‘You get to meet a lot of different people in the diplomatic corps. I first met Mike at a reception at the UN. We’ve bumped into each other a few times since then. Mike called me when they’d found out where Bernard was holding you. I got over here as quick as I could.’

‘Are you a cop?’ she asked Graham.

Graham stopped cutting to look up at her. ‘Yeah, a sort of a cop.’

‘A sort of a cop?’ she queried. ‘What kind of an answer’s that?’