Алистер Маклин - Air Force One is Down

‘I have brought what you want, Mr Philpott,’ said the diamond merchant.

He handed the bag to Philpott, who didn’t even check its contents. A member of the Amsterdam Diamond Exchange was entirely trustworthy.

The dispatch rider was admitted with the wire photo, and Philpott studied the Polaroid with a magnifying glass. The picture showed a tiny island – Saucer Island, the caption said – accompanied by a map reference. The island appeared to jut no more than a few feet above sea-level; the map reference identified it as lying off the Dalmatian coast. The rock could have been anything from fifty to five hundred metres wide and looked flat and bare, except for the pole and cross-bar like a hangman’s gibbet someone had constructed at its very tip.

‘ Is that a gibbet?’ Philpott asked doubtfully.

The Deputy Minister bent over the picture.

‘It looks like a gibbet, but logic dictates that it cannot possibly be that,’ he said. ‘Why bother to take someone all the way out there to hang him when you can shoot him comfortably in a prisonyard?’

The vertical post with the supported arm protruding out over the water was fastened to the island by a guy-rope attached to a bolt which had been driven firmly into the rock.

‘ “Place the diamonds into a canvas sack secured at the top, and bearing at its fastening a steel ring precisely six inches in diameter,” ’ Philpott read out Smith’s instructions disbelievingly. ‘ “Loop the ring over the projecting arm.” ’

‘Is that all?’ the Deputy Minister asked.

‘No,’ Philpott replied. ‘He goes on: “Do not set foot on the island. The operation must be carried out from a boat. Be warned that the island is mined. The ransom must be in position by 2000 hours this evening, or another life will immediately be forfeit. And heed well this injunction: any rescue bid will be met with fire, and the deaths of all , repeat all , captives.” ’

‘Curious indeed,’ commented the politician, inquiring what Philpott wished them to do.

‘Do precisely as Smith says,’ Philpott returned. ‘Take a boat to the island, don’t land on it, merely place the diamonds on the projecting arm of the whatever it is, exactly as per instructions. No tricks; no substitute package. I want fifty million dollars’ worth of cut stones in that bag, and I want it to be where Smith expects it to be at the time he cites. I’ll be able to give you further directions later, I trust.’

The Minister bowed.

‘You are, sir, as I believe I have pointed out, in full charge of the operation. So that, should it go wrong …’ he let the possible consequences hang in the air.

‘I take the point,’ Philpott said grimly.

‘How do you think Smith is going to take possession of the diamonds?’ the politician asked, halting Philpott’s exit to the helicopter.

Philpott turned and said, ‘If I knew that I’d know how to stop him.

But I don’t.’ He stalked out to the airport’s apron and made his way to the helicopter …

The sun cast a deep shadow on the mountainside, and McCafferty used the camouflage to sneak further along the ledge until he was above Cooligan. He risked a slow, careful descent, wishing neither to alarm Cooligan nor attract the attention of the helicopter pilot. When he was only a few yards short of the agent, he called out in an urgent voice, ‘Bert! It’s me. Mac!’

Cooligan spun round, and did the last thing McCafferty expected: his face darkened with fury, and he launched himself at his would-be rescuer.

Mac could have used the machine-gun to hold off the maddened agent, but he was so taken aback that he allowed Cooligan to close with him.

‘ Now , you filthy bastard, now here’s where you get yours like you gave it to Hemmingsway!’ Cooligan gasped, as his hands reached out for McCafferty’s throat.

Mac staggered, still unwilling to use either force or his own weapon against his friend.

‘For Christ’s sake, Bert, what the hell are you saying?’ he hissed. ‘And keep the noise down or we’ll both be caught.’

They grappled, and Cooligan fought like a berserk Viking, possessed with fury and hatred. He hit out blindly at Mac’s face, and caught him a glancing blow on the cheek-bone. Mac stumbled backwards, then his foot caught in a tree root and he toppled to the ground. Cooligan’s eyes blazed as he leapt forward to dash his booted foot into McCafferty’s face. Mac rolled desperately to one side, babbling all the while that Cooligan was making a dreadful mistake, that he was his friend, the old Mac – that the other man was a ringer!

Cooligan missed him with the first onslaught, but spun on his heel and lashed out again with his other foot. Still refusing to unsling his gun, McCafferty caught the flying boot inches from his mouth, and twisted cruelly on it. With a cry of fear, Cooligan pivoted, trying to keep his balance with outflung arms, and failing. He fell awkwardly to land on his front, and the wind driven from his lungs. It was the chance Mac needed: he bunched his muscles and jumped from the ground to fall squarely on Cooligan’s back. He twisted one of the agent’s arms, and held it pressed between his shoulder-blades.

‘ Now will you listen! Say nothing – just listen ! There are two of us, dummy! Two of us! That’s how Smith managed to pull the trick on board AF One. They used a ringer – and he’s out looking for you now! I got away from them in Bahrain and I’m here under Philpott’s orders. I’m to meet him shortly down the valley! Now will you for Christ’s sake stop fighting me and let me rescue you, asshole!’

All Cooligan’s fury was spent in the struggle to get free. He lay on his face, exhausted, and for the first time heard what McCafferty was saying.

‘ Two of you?’ he panted. ‘Then you’re – you’re–’

‘I’m Joe McCafferty, Bert. He’s – I don’t know, someone else. Someone Smith tricked up with plastic surgery to look like me, talk like me, act like me … well enough to fool everyone on board the plane and pull off this hijack. What we have to do now, Bert, is stop him. And I think I’ve an idea how we can make a start.’

He rolled off Cooligan but, to be absolutely safe, held him at gunpoint. Cooligan sat up and eyed the weapon suspiciously.

‘I guess – I guess I have to believe you, Mac,’ he said slowly. ‘There seemed to be something not quite right about you – I mean him – at the hotel and on the aircraft, and I knew all along that, even if you’d sold out, you couldn’t have done what they said you’d done back there.’

He related the details of Hemmingsway’s murder, and McCafferty shook his head in grief; he had known Hemmingsway, and liked him for his unaffectedness and determination. Cooligan asked for the plan of action, and McCafferty inquired if the ringer was still wearing AF One uniform. Bert confirmed that he was.

‘Then change clothes with me,’ Mac urged. ‘I’ll go down the hill as the ringer, and tell them to call off the hunt. That’ll take the heat away and give us time to think.’

They swapped clothing swiftly, and McCafferty, keeping a wary eye open for his double in case the ringer had also joined the search, made contact with the guerillas and ordered them back to the castle. He separated from the taskforce on a hastily contrived pretext, and had just rejoined Cooligan when their attention was distracted by a loud thump from below.

‘That’s the drawbridge,’ Cooligan said, ‘something must be coming out.’

As they watched, the minibus clattered across the wooden bridge and took off down the road, followed by a lorry-load of men and two jeeps. McCafferty clapped the field glasses to his eyes, and counted off the passengers in the bus.