more rope.'
Harry jumped to his feet, grabbed the rope coil and followed Ben down a ladder from the bridge to the main deck. Leaping over the narrow gap onto the jetty, he wound lengths of rope round the stone bollard.
Paula had skipped down the ladder behind Ben. He placed a huge ugly-looking knife beside the rope on deck.
'What's the knife for?' she asked.
'Always curious, you ladies. If we have to run for it in a hurry, that knife can cut through the rope in sec onds. Now I'm off to the stern. That Harry doesn't waste time.'
Paula shinned back up the ladder onto the bridge. Tweed was adjusting the glare light up the side of the precipitous cliff. At intervals he paused briefly. Paula saw a series of thick large rubber loops attached to the rock.
'What on earth -' she began.
'They attach a thick hose inside those loops and use a system to suck up the oil from the tanker berthed about where the Tiger is now.' He looked back to where Harry had appeared. 'Leather climbing boots for everyone except Ben. We've got to get to the top of this brute.'
Harry produced the boots from his capacious bag. On the soles were hard projections for clinging to ledges. At a fresh order from Tweed, Harry took out a backpack, slipped inside the torpedo-shaped weapons he had shown Paula – the firebombs. They began climbing, Tweed in the lead.
It was a difficult climb. The cliff face was almost vertical. Paula went up quickly, but tested her weight on every protruding spike of rock before trusting it. Harry was close behind her. She was about to turn to say something to him when Tweed's sharp whisper reached her as though he'd sensed what she was about to do.
'Nobody look down. That's a direct order. Look up! '
She hauled herself over the top before she realized how close to the summit she was. She pulled herself up the final few feet and sat still for a moment, breathing heavily. She looked down as Harry scrambled over with Marler close behind. Her mind began to swim with vertigo so she turned to look inland, amazed at the view.
A shallow slope led down no more than a hundred feet. She was staring at four vast container tanks, their roofs slightly curved. Beyond, the ground climbed steeply but at the far end of the island a long runway was laid out. A large plane stood at the takeoff end.
'You see,' said Tweed, seated close to her with the others very near, 'refineries and oil storage tanks. Contents – from that pirated tanker. Worth millions. Over on the far coast you can see a smaller fleet of tankers flying the Otranto flag. Neville planned on selling oil he'd not paid a penny for – to desperate countries who'd pay $100 a barrel for the stuff. Harry, I want all four of those oil tanks destroyed.'
'No sooner said than done,' Harry replied. Til hike to the one furthest away.'
'Can I help you?' Paula suggested.
'Yes. By sitting there and not getting in my bloody way.'
They all knew he'd been deliberately rude to stop her coming with him on what could be a suicide mis sion.
'Maybe I -' began Marler.
'If you'll all shut your big mouths maybe I can con centrate,' Harry told them.
Then he was gone. Running, crouched, down the slope, he was about to pass the nearest tank. Then he saw the ladder curving up its side. It would give him height and he must now be near the more distant tank. He had his backpack turned to rest on his stom ach. Arriving at the top he was closer to all four oil tanks than he'd expected. He extracted the first explo sive firebomb.
Taking a deep breath he hurled it with all his strength at the most distant tank. His bomb landed dead centre on its curved surface. As he hurtled a fresh bomb at a nearer tank his first bomb detonated with a sinister crack. There was a dull explosion, then it blew apart, emanating a fireball. His second bomb was increasing the blinding blaze over the whole stor age area.
He ran down the ladder, already feeling the heat from the fire. Running back up the slope, he paused, hurled two more bombs, one for each nearer tank. Then he ran like hell up the slope to join the others, gazing with disbelief at the spectacle. The flames from all four tanks had now merged into one massive inferno.
Paula had her binoculars pressed against her eyes.
They were aimed at the long runway with the large plane at the take-off point.
'They're all running for it. They're flying out. Plane's on the move. Guile has taken fright.'
'Didn't know how many of us there were,' Marler explained. 'It could have been a whole army.'
'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.
