The shell struck a boulder just in front of the two thugs, burst, flooded the air with tear-gas. Earlier Marler had noted the icy breeze at la Schlucht was no longer blowing. Marler and Butler moved like greyhounds as the Americans Coughed, spluttered, staggered, held a hand to their eyes, still clutching the machine-pistols.
Despite the pain of the tear-gas both thugs were staggering at surprising speed back towards the plunger. Marler realized that a lot of the deadly vapour had exploded away from the targets. They were nerve-wrackingly close to the plunger when Marler reached Don, whose vision was obscured. He saw only silhouettes.
Marler had dropped his pistol, was holding his Armalite with the barrel across his chest, gripped at both ends. He drove it with a ferocious thrust against Don, forcing him backwards, preventing him from making any use of his own weapon. At the last moment Don realized he was on the edge of the brink.
'No! For Chrissakes…'
Marler, careful where he placed his own feet, gave one final savage shove. The American fell back into space. In a bizarre gesture he hurled his weapon away from himself. Marler caught it with one hand in mid-air. With a high-pitched yell of pure terror the American plunged down. At this point the lip of the cliff protruded well over the road below. The piercing yell continued echoing round the Vosges as the somersaulting body, arms flailing, missed the road and plunged on down, down, down into the abyss.
At almost the same moment Butler hammered the barrel of his Luger down on to the hand of Jess, forcing him to drop the weapon. He then struck his adversary across the face, left, right, left. The onslaught drove Jess back and back. He was close to the edge when Butler brought the barrel down on his skull with all his force. Jess collapsed out of sight, following his fellow American in to the chasm.
Marler and Butler had worked as a perfect team, keeping to the original plan, each tackling the thug closest to him. Butler was breathing heavily as Marler ran back to retrieve his tear-gas pistol. When he returned Butler had recovered his breath, was operating his walkie-talkie.
'Tweed. Cliff laced with explosives. Later we can get down the shallow slope south of the cliff, join you on the road. Get Cardon to grab my machine if he can. Pete can be bait for the truck. We'll take it from there…' 'Agreed,' Tweed's voice answered tersely. There was very little time left. He gave Nield brief instructions. Nield acknowledged. Tweed signalled to Newman to move on, told Cardon the plan, started the Espace moving, warned Gaunt via Jennie over her walkie-talkie to get moving, keep close…
At the summit Butler pointed out to Marler several places where holes had been drilled in the unstable cliff, explosives inserted. Dynamite, he thought. Marler took up a position at the brink, looked down. It was lucky he had never suffered from vertigo. The drop beyond the road was dizzying. From this point he could see the movement of the convoy and – more important still – the position further back where Pete Nield sat astride his motorcycle, calmly waiting for the arrival of the juggernaut. Live bait. He'd have to time it to a fraction of a second.
The driver of the Nestle truck was chewing gum. Whatever he was doing – driving, talking, waiting to kill a target – he was always chewing gum. The truck swayed a little despite its great weight as the front wheels passed over ice, but the vehicle held on to the surface as though glued to it.
He had had the heaters turned up full blast for quite a while, the windows of the cab firmly closed, and the atmosphere inside was a nauseating mixture of sweat, oil and heat. The driver was unaware of this. He was about to open the window briefly to spit out gum, prior to inserting a fresh stick in his thin-lipped mouth, when he rounded a corner and saw Nield seated on his machine, a stream of exhaust like steam ejecting from the pipe.
The driver grinned wolfishly again, rammed his foot down on the accelerator. Nield took off like a bird, keeping close to the wall of rock as he appeared to fly across the snow. Chewing Gum was startled, annoyed at the lightning take-off, He rammed his foot down further.
'You're the salad, pal,' he said to himself. 'Then we can get on with the main course.'
He was particularly looking forward to tipping the Espace over the edge. That was going to give him a real kick. He burned rubber as Nield disappeared round the corner of the massive cliff overhanging the road. This was fun, Chewing Gum thought.
The corner was sharper than he'd anticipated. He braked to take it. That was when he heard a rumbling sound. He frowned, glanced up, then stared in horror. Above him as he leaned forward, gazing up through the windscreen, he saw a vast black curtain descending on him. Huge boulders crashed on to the road ahead of him and bounced off the edge.
He was no longer chewing gum. His teeth were clamped together in sheer fright. Something hit the top of his cab, denting the roof. A small boulder rolled off and down into the white hell below. The windscreen was suddenly blotted out as shale fell, piled up on the hood. He was driving blind.
'Jesus! No… o…!'
He screamed. The wheel no longer responded to the frantic turn of his clawed hands. A sound like thunder roared out as thousands of tons of granite fell on the juggernaut like a giant sledgehammer. He felt the truck tipping over towards the brink. Through the side window he saw the chasm coming up to meet him. The juggernaut was pushed off the road, began turning like an immense cartwheel as it dropped into the depths. Chewing Gum's head, his mind, was spinning out of control. The truck gathered speed, plunged on down into the three-hundred-foot ravine. It hit ice-covered rocks, burst into flames which sizzled as the snow quenched them and the juggernaut died.
46
On the summit of the cliff Marler and Butler had operated again as a skilled team. Butler had waited by the plunger while Marler ran further along the brink away from the convoy. He had stopped at a point where he could look down on the winding road and see it clearly.
Holding his right arm upright, Marler watched the roof of Newman's station wagon pass below him, followed by the grey Espace and Gaunt's BMW. He had waited until he saw Nield on his motorcycle, speeding past. The moment Nield wag well clear of the cliff he had dropped his hand and run like hell away from the brink to the centre of the plateau. That was the moment when Butler pressed down on the plunger with all his strength.
His job accomplished, he began running back to join Marler. Butler felt the ground trembling under his feet and wondered whether he was going to make it. Reaching the scatter of boulders where Marler waited he looked back and sucked in his breath.
The two Americans had misjudged placing the plunger mechanism. Butler stared in awe as a fissure zig- zagged across the plateau, as half the plateau crumbled away, taking the mechanism with it. The roar was deafening. Clouds of rock dust appeared from under the snow. Choking, both men ran for the shallow slope, Marler gripping his Armalite and tear-gas pistol.
The crash and rumble of the avalanche continued as they ran, slithered down the long slope to where the convoy was stationary, waiting for them. Cardon greeted them as they arrived on the road, calling out to Butler.
'We manhandled your machine into the back of the Espace. Paula helped me. We had only seconds.'
'I'll get it out, then,' Butler decided. Take up my old position at the head of the convoy.'
'Congratulations, both of you,' Tweed said tersely when he had jumped down to meet them. 'Marler, get back into the station wagon. Tell Newman to get moving. I want us out of the mountains before dark. And again, everyone keep a sharp lookout for more welcomes from the enemy.'
'I'll go ahead of Newman as before,' repeated Butler.
With Garden's help he had been hauling his machine out of the back of the Espace. Amberg was twisted round in his seat, staring fixedly. Butler gave him a brief wave, whispered to Cardon.
'The Swiss looks stiff as a poker. Obviously not used to these day trips…'
Mounted on his machine, he started it and sped off as Gaunt came striding down from his BMW.
'What the devil was all that about?' he barked.
'Avalanche,' Tweed told him. 'You get them in this part of the world in winter. Get back to your car. We're on our way…'
Soon the convoy was driving down an even more murderous series of spiral twists and turns which went on and on. Dusk was descending and great stands of fir trees closed in on either side, immense branches weighed down with thick coatings of frozen snow. Paula shivered at the sight of them – it reminded her of films of Siberia
