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.
A menacing rumble like thunder made Paula look back. She was awestruck as she gazed at the spectacle. The whole mountain below the peak was collapsing, a tidal wave of snow and rocks thundering down, smashing through the fence surrounding the ground station, overwhelming the buildings, smashing the wooden edifices housing the scientists. She had no way of knowing Craig had earlier shut off the air-conditioning system.
The ground station vanished, the wooden houses crumbled, disappeared, the tidal wave of rocks and snow rushed down the mountain with gathering speed. Newman caught a glimpse of what was happening in his rear-view mirror and his expression became grim.
'We've done it!' shouted Paula.
'Now we have to survive,' Newman warned.
You can't out-race an avalanche.
The words of his advanced instructor when he was once skiing at St Moritz came back to Newman. They did not make him feel any better as he reached the road and began the frightening descent. He knew he couldn't go as fast going down as he had coming up. He'd observed that the avalanche had divided into two great rivers of flooding rock and snow. The major river was veering away from the road. It was the second, smaller river -still an awesome killer – which worried him. It was heading straight for the cliff edge and at some point would roar over the mountain road.
Marler was close behind him as he swung round the bends again, keeping up as fast a pace as he dared. In his vehicle Newman was aware Paula was talking to Butler, her mouth close to his ear, and then she began unfastening his black leather jacket. It was only then he realized Butler was wounded.
He forced himself to resist the impulse to move faster. He couldn't call back, ask Paula how badly Butler was hurt. The implacable roar of the descending avalanche was deafening. At a bend he slowed for a few seconds, glanced back. Paula had taken out her first-aid kit from her shoulder bag.
'Just keep going.' he said to himself. 'Maybe pray a little:'
Paula had opened Butler's jacket, which had a tear in it where a bullet had penetrated. His shirt underneath was bloodstained. She had a tricky job – to cut away a portion of the shirt with the vehicle rocking from side to side. She managed it, was surprised – and relieved – to find he wore only one woollen vest, very bloodstained. She told him to keep as still as he could, then carefully cut away a portion of the vest. The bullet could be seen, embedded in his flesh.
'This will hurt.' she warned him, mouth close to his ear. 'I have to guard against infection. Now…' She treated the wound. Butler remained quite still.
'Does it hurt?' she asked.
'Only when I laugh.'
God, she thought, he's tough, is our Mr Harry Butler. She applied dressings and a bandage, then tucked his clothes back in position. Looking up, she shuddered.
Newman's hands instinctively tightened on the wheel. Ahead was a huge overhang of rock, way above them but curving over the narrow ledge the road ran along. Pouring across the overhang was an endless cascade of huge rocks, snow and shale. At the moment it was carried by its momentum straight into the precipice on one side of the road.
Was it his imagination, Newman wondered? The overhang seemed to be slowly bending under the strain of the second river crashing over it. The cascade was about fifty yards below Newman on a rare straight stretch. He saw patches of ice appearing under the snow covering the road. Once again he resisted an almost overpowering impulse to speed up dangerously. His eyes never left the overhang as he drove closer and closer.
The deafening rumble rose to a crescendo. Paula felt relieved about one thing only. She had dealt with Butler's wound. It would have been impossible for him to hear a word she said now. She sat transfixed, gazing at the oncoming cascade as larger rocks – boulders – toppled from the overhang. Butler nudged her.
She glanced at him. He was grinning, gave her a thumb's-up sign. She forced herself to smile, squeezed his arm, then stared ahead again. Remembering that Marler, behind him, had to pass under the cascade, Newman took a chance, pressed his foot gently on the accelerator. He felt the vehicle begin to skid towards the abyss, went with it, turned the wheel slowly. Inches from the drop the vehicle responded, returned to the ledge. Now he was passing under the cascade. The sound hammered at their eardrums. Then they were past it.
Paula looked back quickly. She saw Marler's face and he had never looked so grim. He nodded at her, passing under the cascade, smiled at her. As she continued looking back she saw the overhang give way, a vast chunk of rock falling on to the ledge, followed by a stream of rocks, snow and shale piling up over the immense rock now blocking the road. She sighed with relief and sagged against the back of the seat. The horrific noise was fading. Butler leaned towards her.
'Bit close that, wasn't it?'
To his right Newman saw the helicopter escaping with Brazil on board descending towards the airfield outside Sion. He wondered what Tweed was doing, how he would react.
44
