The Persian Price (30 page)

James hesitated for a moment. Janet looked very pale and it was probably his imagination but he thought there were tears in her eyes. He touched her on the arm.

‘Come on,' he said. ‘We'll go home. To hell with Logan. I think you've got the answer.'

‘What happened with the Shah?' Janet asked him. As they got into James's car she kept her head averted. Now he was certain about the tears. He slipped the automatic gear into place and they moved off.

‘I'll tell you when we get back,' he said. ‘But I'm happy to say Logan met his match.'

Eileen heard Madeleine shouting for the Frenchman. Peters lay like lead in her arms. She was overcome with sudden panic and she began to shake him.

‘Wake up! For God's sake, wake up, wake up …'

He groaned and she began to struggle to lift him into a sitting position. She was not nearly strong enough. The cellar door was open. Even if she shut it, they would be certain to look inside. The Lebanese girl had found the servant's body. They would know Peters was alive. There was no resignation left in her now, no sense of calm or fatalism. She pulled and shook at Peters, frantic with fear.

‘Darling! Wake up! Come on … please, please …'

He opened his eyes, trying to focus. Eileen began to heave at him, holding him under the arms.

‘They're coming,' she gasped. ‘We've got to hide. Get up. Oh, try, for God's sake.'

‘All right,' he mumbled, fighting the lethargy that didn't want to hear or know, but only to slide back into sleep. ‘All soo right …' He could hear Resnais's voice. It came from the radio room. At any moment they would come to the cellar.

With Eileen's help he dragged himself to his feet. Hide, she had said. There was nowhere. He couldn't think clearly. All he knew was that she was still with him and in danger.

‘Behind the door,' Eileen whispered. ‘Hurry, get into the corner by the wine bin, hold onto it, but don't make a noise! I'll pull the door back.'

She heard footsteps running across the tiled floor of the kitchen above them. She pushed Peters into the corner, dragged the cellar door open and slid behind it to hide with him. The bottles in the wooden wine rack rattled. She held herself rigid, praying wildly that he wouldn't move or lose consciousness. They were coming down the stairs.

‘Merde!'
Resnais's shout exploded a few feet away from them. ‘She's gone!'

They were standing at the open doorway. Eileen could see their shadows on the floor. Instinctively she closed her eyes and gripped Peters with all her strength. Outside, Madeleine turned to the Frenchman.

‘He wasn't killed,' she accused. ‘You fool – you should have made sure!'

‘They haven't gone far,' Resnais said. ‘Ahmed's not even cold. And they can't have taken the car – you would have heard them! If they're on the road, we'll catch them. Come on!'

Peters was fully awake. The sound of Resnais's voice had driven away the urge to give in and drift off again. He was supporting himself fully and Eileen felt his hand on her, telling her to stay absolutely still and quiet even when they heard Madeleine and Resnais going back up the stairs to the kitchen.

‘I'm all right now,' he whispered.

They came out from behind the door.

‘Jesus,' Peters said. ‘They'll find the gate's still locked and they'll think we're still in the grounds. When they don't find us there, they'll come back and search the house!'

‘What are we going to do?' Eileen said.

‘Fight it out,' Peters said. ‘There's no other way, can you shoot?'

‘No,' she said. ‘No, I've never touched a gun in my life.'

‘We'll get weapons,' he said. ‘If my head would stop lifting off … We've got to get to the kitchen, and quick. You'll have to help me.'

Going up the stairs to the kitchen he stumbled and fell on his knees. The pain in his head was so excruciating that he groaned out loud. Eileen helped him up, sobbing with the effort. He got to the kitchen and stopped, holding onto the door.

‘Go to the cooker,' he gasped. ‘Push button number 4 on the control panel. Hurry.'

She did as he said and the cupboard fitment swung back from the wall. Peters went inside the little armoury.

‘Take this,' he mumbled to her.

He couldn't carry the weight of the Browning 308 and the box of ammunition; she took both. He pushed a grenade into his trouser pocket. They came back into the kitchen.

‘Push button 4 twice,' he said.

The cupboard swung back into place. He leaned against the wall, exhausted.

‘Why the hell didn't you go?'

‘Because I'm not leaving you,' Eileen answered. ‘So don't try and make me.'

‘Bull-headed Irish,' Peters said. ‘Christ – we'll never make it walking. So I'll have to lay for them. I want you to do exactly as I say. No argument. We need to get to the garage. There's a way down through the outside door here. It's a covered way and there's only one exit. Let's go while they're out in the grounds.'

It seemed to take them a long time; twice he had to stop and wait, attacked by dizziness. She watched him in agony, praying that he wouldn't black out. But will-power kept him on his feet. He staggered like a drunken man as they reached the exit to the garage. They went in by a side door. Inside was the white Rolls Royce laid up on chocks. The electrically operated garage doors were open. Resnais hadn't bothered to garage the Jaguar; it stood in the drive. Peters leaned against the Rolls. He took the grenade out of his pocket and gave Eileen a ring with two keys on it.

‘The big one opens the main gate,' he said. ‘I want you to run and unlock it when I tell you. Okay?'

‘While you stay here? What happens if you black out?' she said.

‘I won't,' Peters said. ‘I'm feeling better. I'm going to take cover here. They've got to pass the garage to get back in the house. That's when I pick them off. You go to the doors and look out. Be very careful. Signal if you can see or hear anything.'

Eileen kept in the shadow to the side of the garage entrance. She listened and at first heard nothing. Then there was a voice, calling something indistinct. It was the girl. The Frenchman answered.

‘They've split up,' she said to Peters. ‘I can hear them shouting to each other.'

Peters swore. He had loaded the Browning and the grenade was on the ground beside him.

‘Which direction?'

‘To the right,' Eileen said. ‘Not very close.'

‘Okay,' Peters said. ‘If they're round there the driveway is screened by the oleander bushes. Run and get those gates open. And stay put till I come out. Go on!'

He watched her go. There wasn't a hope in hell that he would join her. But the way was clear for her escape.

Eileen darted out of the entrance and ran as fast as she could down the drive to the main gates. She was gasping for breath; she could hardly fit the key into the lock. She turned it and the gates swung open easily. She leaned against the supporting pillars; she was weakened physically from lack of exercise and her legs trembled. Outside was the road; she had only to walk through the gates and she was free. That was what Peters intended when he sent her to open them. He was going to stay behind and fight Resnais and Madeleine off while she escaped. Telling her to wait there had been a ruse to make her leave him. He knew when the firing started that she would be unable to get back. She would have to save herself. She hesitated, but only long enough to scan the way back to the garage. She saw nobody and heard nothing. He had called her bull-headed Irish. She remembered that as she began to run towards the garage. As she reached it, Madeleine rounded the corner.

She and Resnais had split up to search. She was carrying her gun at the ready, but her attention was not fully engaged. She had decided that Peters and the woman were hiding in the house. She and Resnais had searched every bush in the garden. Resnais thought they might have climbed down the rocks and attempted to swim, but Madeleine disagreed with him. It was a long swim against the tide and she derided the idea that anyone as soft as Eileen Field could have attempted it.

She was completely unprepared to see Eileen running for her life only a few yards away from her. So taken by surprise that she shouted out after her and loosed a couple of shots without taking proper aim. Eileen vanished into the garage and Madeleine raced towards it. She didn't get the chance to shoot again. A burst from Peters's Browning caught her full on; three bullets hit her in the chest; the impact threw her violently backwards; her pistol went spinning into the oleander bushes. Madeleine gave a single scream and then lay still. She felt a massive pain and the metallic taste of blood. She knew that it was Peters who had shot her and as she died she spoke his name.

Resnais, who was twenty yards behind her, came from the other side of the house as the shooting began and saw her lying in the driveway. He didn't open fire. He froze while Madeleine died. Peters was in the garage. There was no way to the front or back doors unless he crossed in view of the open garage doors. Unless he climbed to the first floor. Once inside the house he could use the only method of attack which would turn Peters's strongpoint into a lethal trap. Inside the kitchen was the armoury. He needed grenades.

The Interpol branch in Nice had recently been strengthened due to an influx of Algerian criminals into the area. There had been an outbreak of robberies and an attempted hold-up of a German millionaire industrialist within the last nine months. The rich and influential raised an outcry and the gendarmerie was also brought up above its normal strength. It was essential that the fashionable resorts along the strip of coast should remain peaceful for the rich inhabitants and for the tourists which were its livelihood. Ardalan's telex caused a furore in the police headquarters. The suggestion that a Palestinian terrorist organization was at work in the region convulsed the prefect with alarm. The police were urged to act with all possible urgency to weed out and deport possible trouble makers. If the kidnapped woman was being held in the environs of Nice, then the French police would find her. There were large numbers of Algerians and Arabs working locally, in restaurants and cafés, as hotel staff, and in the building and construction work undertaken on the coast. A list of them was already in the possession of the police, who kept records of all aliens with Arabic connections, and the name of the Algerian millionaire was among them. While a squad of police set out on a dawn raid on the districts where the poorer suspects lived, a single squad car was despatched, more as a gesture than for serious investigation, later that morning. In the meantime a telexed reply informed the head of
SAVAK
that while no incidents of a suspicious nature had been reported, there was a strong nucleus of Arabs in the district and it was not impossible for a European to be kept prisoner among them. On receipt of this news Logan Field was notified in his office. He had been forced into hiring a private jet and he had no excuse ready when Janet and James insisted upon coming with him.

It was a bumpy uncomfortable flight. James sat apart from Logan and Janet. He had felt sorry for Janet Armstrong and this surprised him. It had seemed impossible that she had feelings which could be hurt, but Logan proved him wrong again. She was miserable, and it was her flash of brilliant intuition which had broken the jumbled message of the dying Saiid Homsi. James had no doubt that she was right. Unlike Logan, he felt confident that Eileen would be rescued. She was being held somewhere in the French resort. A surprise raid by police didn't recommend itself to him, but Ardalan assured him that Interpol would handle the situation carefully. In the meantime, on the Shah's instructions, the Syrian government had been asked officially to help in contacting the terrorists holding Mrs Field and negotiating her release. No mention had been made by either government of Saiid Homsi. He had been buried along with
SAVAK
'
S
other victims in a lime pit outside Tehran.

Logan had hardly spoken since the plane took off. Janet didn't try to talk to him. He hadn't seen her the night before and his attitude was cold and hostile. She had amazed herself by crying till she fell asleep.

He didn't thank her for finding out where Eileen might be hidden. He didn't want to know. Not because he was callous; Janet knew him too well to attribute it to that. Not because he didn't care; but because he cared more than he had ever admitted to himself.

He fastened his belt as the plane turned for the descent to Nice airport. They would find nothing. Everything in him, every intuitive sense told him that Eileen would never be found alive. The night before, in the privacy of his room in James's house, Logan had broken down and wept. He hadn't wanted to come to Nice, but he had no excuse for staying in Tehran. It was Colonel Ardalan, cool and polite as usual, who offered to transport him by military jet if he was unable to charter a flight out at such short notice. They were all pressuring him to go and face the prospect of finding his wife dead in some empty house. Nobody would ever know the agony and horror which overcame him at the thought of it. He could hardly bear to feel Janet sitting beside him. If the nightmare became reality, he would hold her responsible, however unfairly.

They landed smoothly and an airport official met them off the plane and escorted them through customs. A
capitaine
of gendarmes and a young officer came forward and saluted them. Logan broke out in a sweat even before the
capitaine
spoke.

‘M. Field? I have a car outside. I'm afraid we have found your wife. Please come with me.'

‘Why did you come back?' Peters turned on her furiously. His head was pounding and sweat was running, stinging into his eyes. Madeleine was dead; he could see her sprawled on her back on the drive. But the Frenchman was the real opponent. A professional killer, a trained expert. Peters felt so weak and nauseated that he could hardly see what he was doing. Yet here was Eileen kneeling beside him instead of having taken advantage of the opportunity he had given her and got safely away. He had a crazy effeminate desire to break into tears because nothing was solved. He loved her enough to have knocked her down for coming back.