Алистер Маклин - Red Alert

‘Message understood. Am on my way. Over and out.’

Graham was the first on to his feet.

‘We’ve got to take cover before it comes back. The chalet’s our only chance.’

They approached the chalet cautiously and took up positions on either side of the back door. They took the Berettas from their pockets and Graham indicated for Sabrina to go around the side of the chalet. She nodded then moved apprehensively towards the end of the wall, the Beretta held barrel upwards inches away from her face. Once there she paused to wipe the sweat from her forehead. She glanced over her shoulder but Graham had already disappeared around the other side of the chalet. She swivelled round, Beretta held at arm’s length. Nothing. She could see Stressner’s body from where she stood. He lay on his back, his white overall saturated with blood. Then she heard the sound of the helicopter’s engine behind her. She turned to see the Gazelle rise into view from behind the ridge. She flung herself into the snow a split second before a row of bullets peppered the side of the chalet where she had been standing. The helicopter swivelled fractionally as if on an invisible axis until the 30 mm cannons were aimed at her. She tried desperately to get to her feet. She knew she wouldn’t make it before the guns opened fire.

The Westland Scout seemed to appear from nowhere. It shot across the front of the Gazelle and Tommaso Francia recoiled in horror, unconsciously jerking his hands off the controls. The Gazelle bucked sharply and went out of control. It plummeted towards the chalet. He managed to regain control of it at the last moment and it missed the roof by a matter of inches. One of the pads struck the chimney and Sabrina had to scramble out of the way as bricks and mortar rained down into the snow. The Gazelle levelled out and disappeared over the pine trees in pursuit of the Westland Scout.

‘You okay?’ Graham asked behind her.

She nodded, then removed her sunglasses and wiped her sleeve across her forehead.

‘Now’s our chance to get Ubrino, with the helicopter out of the way.’

‘You take the back, I’ll take the front.’

He moved round to the front of the chalet and ducked as he passed a window, even though earlier the curtains had been drawn, only straightening up again when he was clear of it. He undipped his skis then pressed himself against the wall and reached out slowly for the door handle. His gloved fingers curled around it and he pushed it down.

The door was unlocked. He opened the door and took up a firing stance, Beretta extended, legs bent and apart. He found himself looking down a dimly lit hallway. He stepped inside and his eyes instinctively moved towards the wooden stairs to his right. Was Ubrino at the top, waiting to pick him off the moment he tried to climb them? Or was he hiding in one of the rooms leading off from the hall?

He noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye and spun round to face the open door, the Beretta held at arm’s length. Nothing moved. A sprinkling of snow landed in front of the door. That was what he had seen. More snow fell to the ground. It couldn’t be thawing, the chalet was enveloped in shade. That meant something else was dislodging the snow. Or someone else. Ubrino. He waded out into knee-deep snow and as he looked up at the sloping roof Ubrino propelled himself away from the open skylight window. Graham raised his Beretta to fire. Ubrino launched himself off the edge of the roof and caught Graham’s wrist with the edge of his ski, knocking the gun from his hand.

He landed awkwardly and skidded sideways into the snow. He managed to get to his feet before Graham felled him with a bruising football tackle. Ubrino lashed out with his ski pole, catching Graham painfully on the shoulder. He lashed out again with the ski pole, this time hitting Graham in the face. The basket at the end of the pole ripped open the stitches in the side of Graham’s face, spurting blood across the snow. Graham cried out in pain and stumbled backwards, his hand covering the wound as blood streamed down the side of his face. Ubrino scrambled to his feet and set off down the slope.

Sabrina emerged from the chalet and got off three shots at the retreating figure before he disappeared around the shoulder of the mountain. She dug her ski poles into the snow and launched herself after him.

Graham returned to the chalet, where he found a clean towel and pressed it tightly against the wound in an attempt to try and stem the flow of blood. He was about to run some water in the washbasin when he heard the sound of a helicopter engine stuttering in the distance. He went to the front door and looked up into the sky. The Westland Scout was approaching the chalet low over the pine trees, black smoke billowing out from the single turboshaft engine mounted behind the cabin. It managed to avoid the trees and crash-landed thirty yards away from the chalet. The fuel tank was ruptured and a fire started in the tail section. Paluzzi threw open the cockpit door and stumbled towards the chalet. He was only yards away from it when the helicopter exploded, hurling chunks of flaming debris hundreds of feet into the air. He was flattened by the force of the explosion. Graham hurried out to where he lay, helped him to his feet, and led him back to the chalet.

‘You okay?’ Graham asked anxiously once they were inside the door.

‘I’m okay,’ Paluzzi replied with a weak smile. ‘What happened to you?’

Graham told him about Ubrino.

‘I’ll go after Sabrina,’ Paluzzi said. ‘She’ll need back-up. I’ll take your skis.’

‘She’s got a radio. She’ll call us if she needs back-up.’ Graham looked at the twisted remains of the helicopter burning fiercely in the snow. ‘What happened to you?’

‘I gave Francia a good run for his money but he finally got a direct hit on my engine. I had to limp back here, it’s all I could do.’

‘Why didn’t he follow you in?’

‘My guess is he heard my distress call. He peeled off as soon as I started smoking. Kuhlmann’s sending a couple of police helicopters but you can be sure that Francia will be long gone by the time they get here.’

‘When do you expect them?’

‘They should be here in about ten minutes.’

Graham expressed his approval then disappeared back into the bathroom to wash the blood from his face. Paluzzi walked to the front door and stared at the bodies of Stressner and Lacombe lying in the snow. Then he looked down the slope, his thoughts with Sabrina.

Sabrina was gaining rapidly on Ubrino. Then the Gazelle appeared behind them. Tommaso Francia couldn’t risk shooting at her in case one of the bullets hit Ubrino.

She looked over her shoulder at the helicopter and saw Carlo Francia standing in the open cabin doorway. He was dressed in skiing gear.

Moments later he propelled himself through the doorway, landing with bended knees on the slope twenty yards behind her. The helicopter flew past her and Tommaso Francia threw a rope ladder to Ubrino through the passenger door. Carlo Francia unshouldered his Uzi and fired a burst into the snow behind Sabrina. She veered to the left, giving Ubrino a few valuable seconds to grab hold of the ladder which dangled enticingly in front of him. He discarded one of the ski poles and reached out for the ladder. His fingers found one of the rungs and he clamped his hand around it. Then, discarding his other ski pole, he grabbed the ladder with his other hand. He felt himself being lifted off the slope.

Tommaso Francia activated a button on his control panel and the rope ladder began to reel in automatically. The helicopter banked sharply, denying Sabrina a shot at Ubrino. Within seconds it had disappeared from view.

She looked behind her. Carlo Francia was still there, the Uzi in his right hand. He acknowledged her with a faint smile and a slight inclination of his head, just as he had done in Venice. He squeezed the trigger. She curved sharply to avoid the bullets and entered a dense thicket of larch trees. Francia double-angled, forming an inverted ‘L’ in the snow to change direction, and followed her into the wood. He fired again but the bullets chewed harmlessly into the trees on either side of her. The wood ended abruptly and she found herself beginning a steep, curving descent. She looked behind her. No sign of Francia. She carved the first bend and stopped sharply, coming to a halt out of sight of the trees. It was her only chance. She had to get behind him. But what if he approached the bend firing? She crouched down, the Beretta clenched tightly in her gloved hand.