Colin Forbes - Precipice

'That's the second time you've done that,' Philip joked.

'It gives me something to do.'

'I know. The sooner we're there and get on with it the better as far as I'm concerned.'

'Me, too. I'm worried about Bob.'

'Why?' asked Philip with a note of surprise. 'He can look after himself.'

'I realize that, but when they see what he's aiming they'll make him their main target – the enemy will.'

'Which is why we've all been fanned out in the plan -just so we can back him up. He showed us, remember? Using salt and pepper cellars to represent who was who.'

'Looked all right – on a tablecloth. But it's theory.'

'It will go according to plan,' Philip insisted.

'Famous last words.'

'Be optimistic, like me,' Philip told her.

'You can't see your expression. You look as grim as one of those mountains.'

'I'm concentrating on my driving. Which is rather a sound idea, don't you think? Under the circumstances?'

Philip had just swung round another hair-raising curve in the road, which now rose very steeply. He was deliberately keeping her talking, to take her mind off what lay ahead of them. At times he provoked an argument while they came closer to the plateau where the ground station was located.

'You're driving very well, Philip.' she said.

'Famous last words!' he joked.

'We're nearly there, aren't we?'

'Very close now. Better check the action of your Browning again,' he needled her.

'I know why you said that. But if we are very close then I think I'll take your mocking advice.'

She extracted the Browning from her shoulder bag, held it in her lap, the muzzle pointed away from Philip, tension building up inside her as the great boar's head of the Kellerhorn came into view.

Inside the main building of the ground station it was Brazil who first had an inclination of what was heading straight for them. He slept little, liked to advertise his boundless energy.

'I'm always up first – before the world has woken up.' he had told many people. 'That is how I steal a march on the rest of the world. While others slumber I work.'

It was still a couple of hours before he planned to send the second, major signal. He had had his breakfast alone and was staring out of the large window of armoured glass which overlooked the approaches to the heights. The large room was his HQ, his living and sleeping quarters. A door leading off it led to an even larger room which controlled the mobile conning tower perched above it, the sophisticated laser system which contacted the satellite.

He had been working, so it was well after dawn when he pulled back the curtains, stared in disbelief at the convoy of vehicles below him. He was confused for a few vital minutes by what he thought were two Leather Bombers on motorcycles, then he raised the alarm. Why the hell hadn't he posted heavy guards round the perimeter during the night? He cursed his omission. Pressing a button on his intercom he shouted down it.

'Craig! We're under attack…'

Rounding the last corner, Butler and Nield rode up towards the ground station, keeping well apart to provide a smaller target, looking for guards. Newman drove the jeep into the middle of the space between them, continued a long way forward.

'He's going too close.' said Paula.

'He's determined the first shell lands in the right place,' Philip told her.

As ordered by Newman earlier, he swung the four-wheel-drive in a U-turn, so it faced the way they had come, ready for a swift retreat. Marler brought his own vehicle close to them, also performed a U-turn, left the engine running when he had braked. Philip also left his engine running before diving out of the vehicle after Paula.

She was already running over the hard-packed snow, holding her Browning in both hands, ready for instant firing. She raised her automatic as guards appeared near the gates to the compound, flung them open, came running out. Men clad in black leather who, like Butler and Nield, looked sinister silhouetted against the white snow.

Above them, way beyond the ground station, loomed the huge summit of the Kellerhorn – while below it descended the long snowbound slope with rocks protruding at frequent intervals, a slope which ran down to the rear of the ground station.

Marler had brought his Armalite rifle this time. He stood in the open, well to the left of Newman and close to Nield, the weapon tucked into his shoulder. A Leather Bomber, holding a machine-pistol, was running down to get within range. Marler saw him in the crosshairs, pulled the trigger, and saw his target sprawl forward, lie still. It was the first shot. It provoked a fusillade from the advancing guards, now pouring through the open gates, drawing closer to Newman.

Butler and Nield, plunging their hands inside their canvas satchels, brought out grenades, hurled them into the nearest guards. They threw more and more grenades. The guards fell like ninepins, not close enough for their weapons to reach the attackers. Not yet.

Craig rushed out of the gate, ducking and weaving, gripping a machine-pistol. His target was Newman, still standing like a statue, taking very careful aim at a point on the slope, midway between the Kellerhorn summit and the ground station. Craig somehow missed all the bullets flying over the snow, came within range. He raised the machine-pistol.

'Newman, no time to say your prayers. You're going down. For ever …'

Despite the fusillade Newman heard his voice, filled with venom, clearly. The thought flashed across Newman's mind that Craig was recalling the time when he had bested Craig during the fight in the Black Bear, way back in Wareham.

Everyone seemed occupied, holding back the tide of oncoming guards. Craig's large face split into a grin of hate. His finger tightened on the trigger.

More shots rang out in a brief silence as men reloaded. Shot after shot. Craig staggered, a look of sheer disbelief on his face. He stumbled forward close to Newman. More bullets hit him. Dropping the machine-pistol, he lifted both hands, sprawled forward. More bullets entered his prone form.

Marler glanced towards Newman, saw Paula, Browning held steady in both hands, emptying the eight-shot automatic into Craig. No particular expression on her face. She slipped in a fresh magazine, looked for another target.

Rocket launcher pressed into his shoulder, Newman pulled the trigger. The shell whooshed into the air, in a high arc. It landed exactly where he had hoped.

Detonated on the unstable slope Marchat had referred to. A ton of snow and rocks soared into the air. Then came a sound which muffled all the shooting, a dreadful rumbling like the fall of a gigantic waterfall. The whole slope began to move.

'Evacuate!' Newman shouted at the top of his voice.

Paula suddenly noticed the rotor blades of the chopper on the helipad inside the perimeter were moving, whirling faster and faster. Brazil ran out of the building, climbed aboard the machine beside the pilot. The blades became a whirling blur, the machine lifted off.

'Brazil's getting away,' she screamed to Newman.

'Evacuate!' Newman roared again.

They rushed to the four-wheel-drives. Philip, running, threw a grenade under the jeep. It exploded, the petrol tank blew, the jeep burst into flames. No point in leaving something the guards could follow them in. Butler and Nield had earlier thrown their motorcycles over sideways, had used the barrel of a gun to smash a vital part.

Newman climbed in behind the wheel of a four-wheel-drive. Paula came behind him, noticed Butler was stumbling, helped him climb into the back and joined him. Newman drove off.

Marler had taken over the wheel of the second vehicle. Philip leapt in beside him while Nield jumped into the back. They followed Newman who was already driving like a madman to the road leading down the mountain.