Алистер Маклин - Death Train

Werner realized what she was trying to do and desperately searched for a way out. He was so close to going home. There was only one option open to him. He had to take it. He waited until the speedboat was on the starboard side, nearest the shore, then swivelled the seaplane in a forty-five degree turn and headed out towards the open sea. Sabrina slewed the speedboat around so violently that Graham almost lost his footing, having to grab on to the perspex windscreen to prevent himself from falling overboard. The speedboat skimmed across the water as she forced the seaplane away from the open sea and back towards the wall like a sheepdog manoeuvring a maverick bellwether into its pen. Werner had the speed he wanted but he was being forced even closer to the tip of the harbour wall. In desperation he ripped the chain from his neck and pressed it threateningly against the cockpit door window. He eased the stick back and felt the landing pads lift off the water. Graham fired at the rising plane. The bullets chewed an uneven line across the fuselage and Werner jerked back from the controls, the detonator spinning from his hand. The plane, already fifteen feet in the air, went out of control. It was on a collision course with the lighthouse. Werner, bleeding profusely from a bullet wound in his right shoulder, managed to tilt the nose away from the lighthouse wall but although the fuselage missed it by inches the right wing and landing pad were sheared off as though they were made of cardboard. The seaplane pirouetted grotesquely before landing heavily in the sea. It immediately listed to the right as water rushed through an aperture caused by the buckling of the cockpit door. Werner, his body racked with pain, tried to move but found to his horror that his foot was wedged between the door and a metal strut under the seat. The seaplane shuddered as the flooded tail section dipped beneath the water.

Then he saw the detonator dangling at the end of the chain, trapped between the shattered windscreen and the dashboard. He ripped the chain free and flicked back the detonator cap.

He smiled triumphantly as he looked up at the approaching speedboat.

‘Stefan, no!’ Sabrina screamed.

The seaplane bucked and the fuselage disappeared underwater the moment Graham fired a burst from the Spectre. The bullets ripped harmlessly into the now near-vertical nose.

Werner pressed the button.

Graham and Sabrina instinctively ducked, their eyes screwed up in anticipation of the inevitable explosion.

There was only silence.

Werner pressed the detonator a second and third time. The only noise was the water flooding into the cockpit. He closed his hand slowly around the detonator.

The cockpit, and finally the nose, slid beneath the waves.

Sabrina rested her forearms on the windscreen and watched the water bubbling angrily in the wake of the submerged seaplane. ‘And to think he was one of the world’s leading businessmen. Christ, Mike, he was prepared to take half of Europe with him.’

Graham tossed the Spectre on to the seat behind him, then ran his fingers through his damp, tousled hair. ‘You think he was mad?’

‘Wasn’t he?’

‘He was a fanatic, he believed what he was doing would ultimately further his cause.’

‘Including the destruction of half of Europe?’

‘If necessary,’ he said bluntly. ‘Fanatics are driven by passion, not madness. Were the Japanese kamikaze pilots mad?’

‘It’s a form of madness.’

‘It’s a form of extremism,’ he countered.

They heard the sound of rotors in the distance behind them and Sabrina slipped the speedboat into gear then turned it around to face the oncoming helicopter. It was a thirty-feet Augusta Bell JetRanger, the Werner logo displayed prominently on either side of its fuselage.

Kyle was at the controls, Hendrique beside him.

When the helicopter was fifty yards away it dipped into a steep dive and Hendrique fired a burst from his Spectre through the open cockpit door. The bullets went wide of the speedboat.

Graham resisted the temptation to fire at the undercarriage as the helicopter flew over the speedboat; he had only one magazine and every bullet would have to count. Sabrina swung the wheel violently and made for the sanctuary of the harbour. Kyle banked the helicopter in a wide arc and homed in on the speedboat, dipping it low overhead. Graham dropped the Spectre as he and Sabrina flung themselves to the floor, and it was lost overboard. They were down to two handguns against whatever arsenal Hendrique had stored aboard the helicopter.

Hendrique dropped the first grenade as the helicopter swept low across the speedboat’s bow. Sabrina had to take immediate evasive action by slewing the speedboat to the side and moments later the grenade exploded, showering them in a fine spray of water. A second grenade, dropped from a higher altitude, exploded within a couple of feet of the speedboat and Sabrina had to use all her expertise to keep control of the wheel when the hull was pitched out of the water by the resulting wave. She zigzagged the speedboat through the water, making it impossible for Hendrique to drop a third grenade with any degree of accuracy. They reached the temporary shelter of the hangar. It was a stalemate. If they ventured out the helicopter would be waiting for them. If the helicopter descended into view its occupants would be perfect targets.

The helicopter swept past the hangar and Hendrique flung a grenade through the entrance.

The speedboat was idling too far back for the explosion to do any harm but they both knew it would be only a matter of time before Hendrique started to use his Spectre. Bullets fired indiscriminately into the confines of the largely unprotected hangar could go anywhere.

When the helicopter returned Hendrique did use his Spectre, sending them both diving for cover again. Graham was the first up and he inspected the minor structural damage. Three bullets embedded in the speedboat’s nose. Three bullets which could just as easily have hit them. Sabrina? Her name shot through his mind and there was a certain reluctance in his limbs to move as he turned to look behind him. She lay sprawled across the linoleum floor at the back of the boat.

Kyle was preparing for another run when the speedboat emerged from the hangar, its hull barely moving through the water, with Graham standing despondently behind the wheel.

Hendrique ordered Kyle to take the helicopter lower.

‘She’s dead. You killed her, you bastard!’ Graham shouted, then cast a despairing glance over his shoulder.

She opened her eyes fractionally and winked at him.

‘I’m through with all this,’ he shouted up to the helicopter.

‘Throw your gun over the side,’ Hendrique called down to him.

Graham’s hand hovered over the Beretta in his webbing belt.

‘Do it!’ Sabrina hissed.

He threw it into the water.

The Augusta Bell was powered by a single 400-hp Allison turboshaft engine situated in the roof of the fuselage close to the rotors. She would get only one chance to hit it so it was imperative for the fuselage to be at a precise angle before she could attempt the shot. She had to immobilize an engine she couldn’t even see.

The fuselage was almost broadside on and her fingers tightened around the Beretta at her side. Any moment now and the whole target would be in sight. A distracted thought flashed through her mind. If she failed, Graham would be the first to die. In a strange way the thought gave her a renewed confidence in herself. The whole fuselage on Kyle’s side was now directly above her. She extended her arms upwards and fired twice.

Graham, having been told by Sabrina in the hangar to treat the speedboat like a car, accelerated away from beneath the helicopter. She vaulted over the seat and took the helm then reduced speed and pivoted the speedboat around so they could watch the helicopter.