– something I am very accustomed to.'
Tweed checked his watch. Coming up close to midnight.
`Not much longer to wait before the balloon goes up,' he observed.
Wand, clad in gumboots, stepped ashore from the large dinghy. It had taken him with Starmberg a quarter of a mile out to sea – a sea which was calm as a lake of oil. They were walking up the beach towards the bungalow when they heard the plane coming.
Starmberg, realizing it was approaching from the north, raised his Uzi machine-pistol. Wand used his fist to slam down the muzzle.
`You bloody fool. You want to confirm there is activity here? Stand still and wait…'
The machine, a light aircraft, appeared as a dim shape as the fog thinned briefly. It was flying no more than fifty feet above the beach. Its silhouette flashed past, flew on south, the engine sound vanishing almost at once, muffled by the fog. Wand pointed a finger at one of the men patrolling the beach, an automatic weapon looped over his shoulder.
`You. Is it unusual for light aircraft to fly over this area?'
`No, sir. There is a flying club at Esbjerg. They fly down the coast which gives them guidance. I think that one had lost its bearings.'
`I don't like it,' Starmberg commented.
`Who asked you to like it?' Wand demanded.
He stared at the Luxemburger who had his head cocked to one side. He was staring out to sea. Wand slapped his hands together: it was very raw and cold.
`What are you doing now, Jules?'
`I could have sworn I heard that machine flying back out to sea.'
`So get your ears tested when this is all over.' Wand checked his watch. 'We must get back to the transmitter. Call up the Mao. It should be starting to come in soon now…'
`We are very close to that area marked with a cross on your map,' the driver told Tweed who sat beside him. `That is why I am now crawling along.'
It was the same driver who had brought Tweed from Esbjerg Airport earlier to the harbour and then on to the military base. His name was Langhorn and he was the only man whose face Tweed had seen. They were travelling without lights and how he had kept the Opel Omega on the road was beyond Tweed's understanding. To his right Tweed could just make out in the distance a range of sand dunes as Langhorn stopped the car at the summit of a small ridge. He lowered his window, letting in a current of freezing air. Yes, he had been right: he could hear a small aircraft flying further west. He frowned as the machine's engine faded.
Had Norlin blundered – sent an aircraft to spy out the land? The grave danger was that it would alert Dr Wand. Then he dismissed the idea: Norlin was too shrewd. Still… something cold and metallic was pressed against his skull from outside the open window.
`Tell the driver to remove his keys from the ignition or you'll both get a bullet,' a familiar voice threatened.
`That's a friendly welcome to South Jutland, Bob, I must say,' Tweed remarked.
`God! I'm sorry. I didn't recognize you in that hat,' Newman said, removing the Smith amp; Wesson.
`What's happening?' Tweed snapped as he climbed out into the swirling fog, which was growing denser.
Another figure appeared, ran forward. Paula flung her arms round Tweed, hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. Her windcheater felt damp from exposure to the drifting fog. He embraced her warmly, looked at Newman.
`Nice that someone is glad to see me. Which means I can well do without a hug from you.' He looked at Paula as she released him. 'I can't tell you how relieved I am to see you. Are you really all right? I suspect you've had a grim ordeal.'
`No time to talk about that now. Too much happening here.'
`The first thing is to get this car off the road into a dip in the ground,' Newman said crisply. 'Paula, fetch Butler and Nield from behind the ridge.' He looked at the driver as she rushed off. 'Get ready to be pushed by hand. Can't risk the bandits behind those dunes hearing your engine. Luckily that plane drowned its sound as you came so close…'
Butler and Nield appeared and, with Newman's help, pushed the Opel off the road as Langhorn turned the wheel, across a belt of scrubland and down into the gulley where the other cars were parked. Tweed had followed with Paula and was about to ask again what the position was when Langhorn picked up the phone, which was bleeping. He listened, replied in Danish, called out to Tweed.
`It's Norlin. For you…'
`Message just received from Commander Wilson,' Norlin said tersely. 'Targets are moving inshore. We're on our way.'
Crouched down behind the ridge, Paula served the hot soup out of a large thermos Tweed had hauled out of the back of the Opel. Norlin had handed Tweed a large picnic basket and Paula crooned over its contents when she checked them with a pencil torch.
Besides the large thermos of vegetable soup there were plastic mugs, spoons, knives, plates, a generous supply of rolls, another thermos with coffee, more mugs and plates, paper napkins, and the biggest apple cake she'd ever seen.
Her mouth watering, she insisted on supplying the others, including Marler who lay prone with his Armalite, before she helped herself. Tweed realized they were all ravenous. While they were eating and drinking he borrowed a pair of night glasses from Paula, adjusted the focus, scanned the colony scattered amid the dunes. His mouth tightened.
`I've counted fifteen men patrolling along the beach and they are all armed.'
`Sensible to supply plastic cutlery,' Pala remarked to lighten the atmosphere. 'No danger of clinking cutlery made of metal.'
`Which is why Norlin supplied them,' Tweed whispered back. 'He doesn't miss a trick. Everyone feeling a bit better?'
Heads nodded. 'Then I'll give you the news which was just passed to me by Norlin. Two Stealth ships, one a big job, are now on the move – heading for this very point on the coast, I'm sure. Tug Wilson, whom I know, is commander of the frigate Minotaur, which is shadowing them. He's keeping in close touch with me. And now you've all finished your meal you've got to put these on – Norlin said he'd prefer not to gun down any of us.'
From a canvas bag he'd carried from the Opel he produced seven Balaclava helmets – a smaller one for Paula. He also showed them a collection of wide elasticized armbands.
`You all wear these as additional recognition – one on each arm. Put them on now.'
When Paula had slipped a helmet over her head, adjusted it so her mouth and eyes were level with the openings, Tweed slid a green fluorescent band up over each of her forearms. He had just donned his own gear when he remembered his next priority.
`Back in a minute. Have to check something with base…'
Crouching low, he ran back to the Opel. Langhorn was just getting out, stopped when he saw Tweed, opened the front passenger door.
`I have to contact Erik urgently,' Tweed said.
`First, I was coming to tell you. Another message from Wilson. The two ships he's shadowing are less than ten miles off shore and moving in fast.'
`Thank you.' Tweed checked his watch. 2 am. 'Now get me Erik…'
`Erik,' Tweed began, after giving the code-word, 'can you hear me clearly? Good. I expect soon to be giving you the signal to make those three phone calls.'
`Standing by, Mr Tweed. A fresh message from Wilson – the targets are five miles off shore and moving very fast.' `Then I'll be calling you again very soon…'
Aboard the Minotaur Commander Tug Wilson, a stocky figure with ice-blue eyes and his cap rammed carelessly over his dark hair, stood in the communications room. He was staring at the screen on Gaston Delvaux's device. Two blips stood out clearly.
`Amazing,' he commented gruffly to the operator. `Uncanny, sir,' the junior officer agreed. 'Look at our own
