The Savage Gorge (26 page)

'Time to return to the ship,' Tweed decided. He
grunted. 'It will be trickier descending that cliff than it
was coming up. Be very careful.'

'Piece of cake,' said Harry. 'I need all your water
bottles

Paula was puzzled. She watched as he withdrew
from his pack a familiar object: a rope knotted at close
intervals she had used to rescue MacBlade from the
vertical tunnel under Black Gorse Moor. Producing a
thick towel from the pack, he soaked it in water. After kicking a tall thick rock spike on the summit to test its
strength he wrapped the towel round it a number of
times, then tied the end of the rope over the wet towel.

'Now no danger of the rope fraying as we go down,'
he explained. 'Everyone wears the best gloves they've
got to ease the strain of their descent. Paula first.
Then Tweed, with Marler behind him. I'll follow you
lot.'

Paula already had her gloves on. Before she
approached the rope she glanced inland. The big
plane which would have Neville Guile aboard was
already cruising down the runway prior to take-off.
Mr Guile was a survivor.

Peering over the rim of the precipice, she saw

Harry's rope had reached the bottom. She bent down,
grasped the first knot, continued to descend, not look
ing down. She used her feet to keep her body clear of
the rock. Her feet suddenly touched the ground. She
was startled at the speed of her descent. Looking up,
she saw Tweed about to land beside her, then Marler. Finally, Harry seemed to descend like a trapeze artist.

'Get aboard the ship fast!' Tweed ordered.

Ben asked no questions, concentrating on backing his ship out of the harbour. Paula ran down the steps
onto the foredeck. She looked up and Harry was watching her from an open window on the bridge.
Gazing back to the base of the cliff, she stiffened. No guards? A massive North African had appeared, hold
ing an automatic weapon. The huge figure was
elevating the muzzle to sweep the bridge with one
lethal burst of fire. He would kill them all, and he was grinning sadistically at the prospect of mass slaughter.

'Take this, Paula,' Harry yelled, almost falling from
the window.

Reaching up, her gloved hand helped her to grasp the slippery surface. Switch forward - to red. She
counted to three. While at school she had excelled at rounders. She hurled the missile, aiming for the large
rock overhang he was sheltered beneath.

The firebomb detonated with such power it made
the ship shudder. Paula had briefly closed her eyes
against the brilliant flash, then opened them in time to
see the immense tonnage of rock fall and bury the
guard forever. She sighed with relief.

'Good shot,' Harry called down calmly. 'You get the
prize.'

Tweed, who had witnessed the entire episode, had
kept his mouth closed. He turned to Ben.

'Sea's like the proverbial millpond again. So a quiet
voyage back to base.'

'Probably not,' Ben growled. 'Remember the fore
cast. About halfway back we'll have to fight a huge
tornado-like storm . . .'

NINETEEN

For more than half the return journey to Seaward
Cove, the sea was so calm that again the
Tiger
seemed
to glide over the surface. In the stateroom, Paula sat
reading a shipping manual. On the couch opposite
alongside the port side Tweed appeared to be fast
asleep, eyes closed, head sunk on his chest. Paula was
not deceived. She knew he was wide awake, ranging
his mind over all that had happened in Hobartshire,
listing the whole cast of the characters he had met,
assessing them.

Marler appeared suddenly. He had been handling
the wheel on the bridge, now briefly handed over to
Ben.

'Sorry to interrupt,' he began. 'Better take a peek to the west.'

As he returned to the bridge the ship began to rock

and sway from side to side. Tweed stood up as Paula
ran to peer through a window on the starboard side.
They stood together for a moment, staring at the
transformation. The moon cast a pale glow over
the approaching violence. The ferocious storm was
heading for them.

Paula grabbed her life jacket, slung from a hook,
slipped it over her head, fastened the tie round her
waist. Tweed already had donned his own kit. Ben
appeared at the top of the steps.

'Big trouble,' he growled. 'Life jackets on.'

He stopped speaking when he saw they both were
already equipped. The swaying movement was now so
pronounced Ben had to hold on to hand-rails to haul
himself back up to the bridge. At the top he yelled
back at them over his shoulder.

'It's a
monster!
'

'That's right,' Paula yelled back, 'cheer us up . . .'

Standing next to Tweed and, like him, hanging on
to a hand-rail above the couch, she had to admit Ben's description was hardly exaggerated. She gazed in awe
as mountainous waves, reminding her of pictures
she'd seen of the Himalayas, swept down a few hun
dred yards away. Massive waves collided with each
other, sending up a smokescreen of surf concealing
what was coming up behind them.

'The bridge,' Tweed snapped. 'Get up there now.
I'll be behind you.'

It was a struggle to mount the staircase. Paula held
tightly on to the same hand-rail. It was fortunate she'd

taken this precaution. A mighty
whackl
told them a
wave had hit the hull. As they reached the bridge Ben
screamed at Marler manoeuvring the wheel.

'Don't let a wave hit us broadside on. We'll broach
to
—'

'Just shut up!' Marler shouted back.

Paula had every confidence in Marler's seamanship.
On the rare occasions when he had time off he liked to
sail off the south coast even in choppy weather. She glanced westward, sucked in her breath.

'A big one is coming,' she warned him.

'Thank you,' he said with a smile. 'I've just seen the
brute.'

He was already turning the wheel and she thought
she understood his tactics. He was going to ride the
crest, use it to take them at speed nearer to home base.
It was an odd sensation - to be carried forward by the power of the sea. It became very quiet suddenly.

She heard the sound of a large engine, looked up,
gazed with disbelief at the huge plane descending
towards them at speed, like the plane she'd seen taking
off from Noak. It looked like an attack.

Harry had earlier adopted his usual position,
crouched cross-legged in a corner of the deck. Now he
leapt to his feet with binoculars hanging from a strap round his neck. Throwing open a window, he pressed
the glasses briefly to his eyes. Then he shouted.

'Plane has one window open. Thug with an auto
matic weapon. He's going to spray this bridge with
bullets!'

He ran, splay-legged to counter the deck tilt, across
to Ben.

'Give me a Very light. Damn quick! Red if possible,
if not, any colour. Move!'

Ben was already moving. Throwing open a cup
board door, he bent down, shoved his large hand
inside. It emerged holding a metal object Paula only
had a glimpse of. At one end of the squat instrument
was a handle, at the other end a muzzle several inches
in diameter. He passed it to Harry.

'It's
red
and loaded.' He told Harry. 'Specially made
for me and other favoured customers by an engineer
pal down the coast. Costs a small fortune.'

He was now speaking to Marler. Harry only heard
the first few words. Once he had the Very light in his
hand he rushed to the open window. The huge plane
seemed only yards above them but that was an optical
illusion.

Resting both arms on the ledge of the open
window - for stability - Harry aimed the Very light at the plane's port engine. He pressed the trigger. At that
moment the
Tiger
rolled. The missile shot upwards,
exploded in a blinding glare below the fuselage. Harry
swore to himself but the explosion frightened the pilot.
Had the Very been sucked inside the engine as it det
onated the plane would have dived into the maelstrom.

Panicking, the pilot elevated his machine to a high
altitude and flew off, heading for the coast. Paula
sighed with relief. Tweed simply shrugged as he asked
Ben the question.

'Ben, I presume that plane is flying off to land at
Heathrow or London's City Airport?'

'Don't think so. My guess is it will land at the pri
vate airfield about three miles east of the ridge
overlooking Seaward Cove.'

'Not far away, then. Can you see this airfield from
the ridge summit?'

'No,' Ben told him. 'It's hidden behind another
ridge. Below my ridge there's a road to London and a
turning off to this airfield. Funny thing. My ridge this
side is as solid as Everest - but on the other side the
surface is loose shale. One day it will break loose; send
an avalanche down onto that road.'

'Tell me,' Tweed persisted, 'who owns the airfield?'

It was Marler who answered. He'd had a quiet
stretch across a peculiar area of uncannily quiet water.
More like a lake than the sea.