Colin Forbes - Deadlock

He led Brand into the cargo hold where long wooden boxes roped down were stacked. The ropes had been removed from several boxes. The pilot explained they'd work as a team for speed. He would rope down each box after Brand had checked it while his co-pilot unroped others for Brand's inspection. The radio op. was at his post in the pilot's cabin, keeping in touch with Euromast.

Brand took a leather pouch from his pocket, unfolded it and extracted from its leather compartment a small glass pipette containing a liquid. Standing over the open box, staring at the large ingot stamped with German markings, he held the pipette over it, let slip a tiny drop. It sizzled as it landed on the ingot.

'Gold,' Brand said. 'Let's keep moving. Next box…'

'Klein wants to talk again. Wait while I check we're ready.' Van Gorp put down the phone, picked up the other one lying on the table and spoke to Benoit. He nodded to Tweed as he lay it on its side. 'Benoit is waiting. Brand still checking that gold.' He picked up the walkie-talkie, its aerial already extended, exchanged a few words in Dutch with his man watching on the roof. 'Communications in order.'

'And your man on the roof understands the signal I told you both in private he would receive – if my plan works?'

'Didn't understand it – as I don't – but he'll recognize the signal, inform me instantly. Then I pass the codeword to Benoit. Good luck.'

Three minutes later Tweed handed the Verey pistol to Blade who was still waiting with his Sabre Troop. 'Keep that for me,' Tweed requested. 'Collect it from you when I get back.'

Standing at the base of Euromast with the microphone in his hand, Tweed stared up. Klein began talking immediately in a brusque manner, giving orders.

The gold is checked. Sensible of you to carry out my orders. Now listen. Don't interrupt. A Sikorksy is flying in here. It will land on one of those barges behind you. I shall leave the Euromast with a number of my men. Others will stay inside Euromast. When I leave to board the machine I will be holding the control box, thumb over the red button. Shoot me, my last act will be to press the button. Everything goes up. A second Sikorksy will arrive – to take off the rest of my team. My Sikorsky will fly downriver – closing the range with those floating deathtraps. Any interference, I press the button – both Sikorskys will be in constant radio touch.'

'That was not the arrangement…'

'I said don't interrupt. That is the arrangement now. All those people's lives are in your hands. I shall remain in communication with Findel. The plane will be allowed to take off. Any interference with that take-off – you know what will happen. And in case you doubt my will to do as I say…'

Klein tapped his right leather-soled shoe twice. Marler was further round the platform, rifle aimed at Tweed. Inside the lobby a Luxembourger sawed through the rope holding Lara by her waist. The last strand broke…

She fell a dozen feet. The noose tightened round her neck. She swung slowly in space. The TV cameras zoomed in, recording the sight of her extended neck, her bulging eyes.

Tweed gazed up, frozen with shock and disbelief. Chilled to the bone. His eyes glued to the suspended figure, hanging like a marionette, a broken rag doll. He realized he was in shock, gripping the mike like a vice. His legs felt paralysed. He couldn't move. It wasn't happening…

Tweed took back the Verey pistol from Blade and crouched next to the troop commander. He was silent for a minute or two, being careful not to look up at the tower. The drizzle was still falling, a moist sheen gleamed on the sidewalks and the decks of the moored barges.

'You're soaked,' Blade remarked.

'Just a bit wet. What's that thing?'

He pointed to a phone handset which lay on the ground next to Blade. A cable stretched from it away into the distance.

The Dutchman organized that while you were out there. An efficient lot, these Dutch chaps. Don't panic. That will be for you,' he said as the phone started a muted buzz.

'Tweed here.'

'Van Corp. That was pretty grim…'

'Shock tactics. Perfect timing. Klein's about to run for it. That showed he means business with his bloody little red button.'

'Still deadlock then. I'm waiting. So is the other chap at the end of the line…'

'Must go. Something's happening.'

Blade had gripped his arm. The growing sound of a helicopter approaching broke the silence. The Sikorksy looked enormous when it hove into view over the river. Tweed gripped the pistol. 'Just one mistake, Klein,' he whispered to himself.

On the platform Klein watched the machine coming, turned to Marler. 'I'm going down in the elevator. Cover me.'

'Will do.'

Klein took five men inside the elevator, holding the control box firmly. Emerging from the elevator on the ground level, he walked alongside a wall and stared out of a window. The Sikorsky had turned over Parkhaven, was hovering above one of the barges. It descended slowly. Rotors still whirling, it settled on the deck, its port side facing towards the end of the basin where Blade's men were hidden.

Klein walked out slowly, hand extended. A file of men holding Uzi machine-pistols followed him down the steps. Klein walked across the sidewalk, stepped off the kerb into the street. A dozen yards more and he would he shielded by the bulk of the machine which kept its rotors whirling, ready for immediate take-off.

On the platform Marler moved round to the far side -away from the buildings where the Sabre Troop waited. Raising his rifle, he rammed the stock into his shoulder and waited, gazing through the telescopic night sight.

Klein stepped on to the barge deck which was sleazy with oily wetness. No one behind the wall with Tweed saw what happened next. Klein moved forward towards the open door of the Sikorsky, his leather-soled shoes slipped, he lost his balance and sprawled forward full length. The control box slid out of his hand, skidding under the chopper's fuselage. Klein hauled himself forward, made no attempt to climb to his feet. His hand reached forward to grip the control box.

Marler saw it clearly through his sight. The hand reaching out desperately for the box. He began shooting with surgical precision. The first bullet tore into the outstretched hand. Klein's arm jerked back in a reflex of pain.

He rolled on his side, closer to the box. Using his uninjured left hand he reached again for the box. Marler saw the hand as though it were inches from his face. The long fingers clawing forward like a spider's legs. He aimed for the centre of the back of the hand, it disintegrated into a bloody mess of mangled flesh. Again the arm jerked back. He aimed for the iower back as Klein rolled in agony, pulled the trigger. The body jerked convulsively, lay still. Marler aimed for a point below the left shoulder blade and fired again. Klein twitched, lay motionless. A figure in the doorway dropped to the deck. Marler shot him in the chest. He was hurled back as though hit by a hammerblow. Inside the Sikorsky, sitting behind his controls, the pilot, Victor Saur, was confused. He had no idea Klein had been shot. Another man appeared at the doorway, saw the body of his companion and retreated inside the machine. 'No sign of Klein yet,' he reported.

On the platform Marler turned as a Luxembourger walked round the side of the tower. He shot him. Then he walked to the rail, held his rifle at a vertical angle, waved it sideways back and forth three times, and reloaded.

Tweed saw the signal, fired his Verey pistol. Above Parkhaven a green light flared brilliantly. Blade's men moved forward in three widely separated groups, crouched low as they ran for the entrance to Euromast.

On the roof of the HQ building Van Gorp's lookout gave the warning through his walkie-talkie.