CHECKMATE
FOR A PRINCESS
by Lee Edgar



(c) LEE EDGAR 1997


Published and Printed by
REGENTLANE Ltd
Devonshire Road Industrial Estate
Millom, Cumbria LA18 4JS
All Rights Reserved
ISBN 1 900821 16 8

BRITISH LIBRARY CATALOGUING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

OTHER BOOKS IN THIS SERIES
Requiem for a Princess
Aftermath of a Princess
Escape Unto Death




OPENING MOVES

WEDNESDAY 11th AUGUST - 1100 hrs.
The aircraft carrier was remarkably steady as the helicopter gunship slipped
sideways a little and then dropped gently onto the flight deck with a chatter
of rotor blades. Immediately, the note of the engine changed and the door in
its side was thrown open to allow Major Alphonse Slazinski to drop to the
deck, his battle-dress stained with the smoke of recent action and his cigar
firmly in his mouth. The machine carbine he carried was slung loosely in his
hand, all danger now gone, and his manner was almost jovial as he gestured to
the group of civilian personnel inside the body of the 'copter. The last of
the McDonnell Douglas F-18 strike aircraft hit the arrester net on the flight
deck with a banshee scream of reverse thrust as six people dressed in pale
blue overalls and baseball caps followed the Major down from the helicopter
onto the deck and towards the bulkhead hatch recessed into the side of the
superstructure.
The relative quiet inside almost hurt their ears as the group stepped,
single-file, across the raised threshold and the black major removed the unlit
cigar from his mouth and stuck it into the top pocket of his battledress as a
smartly-uniformed officer approached the party. He saluted lazily though
respectfully. 'All present and correct, Commander.'
'Very good, Major Slazinski.' The officer smiled as he looked from one face to
another of the male members of the group. 'And which one of you gentlemen is
Monsieur Dubois from the French Embassy?'
The tallest of the group stepped forward with a smile and shook his hand. 'A
votre service, Commander,' he said, his smiling, suntanned face complementing
the rest of his handsome features.
'Welcome aboard U.S.S. Columbia,' said the officer to them all. 'I am John
Jakes, Commander of the United Nations air and ground forces in the
Mediterranean. If you would be so kind as to follow me, I will take you
straight to the Admiral who is eager to meet you all.' He turned to the Major.
'Your report soonest, Al.'
'Aye, aye, Commander.' The Major saluted and then mischievously winked at the
shortest member of the group who grinned.
They were led to the boardroom where Admiral Michael Davison, US Navy, rose
from his chair beside the polished table and greeted them with a smile. 'So,
we meet at last, Monsieur Dubois. It seems we have you to thank for saving our
skins.'
'Not me, Admiral,' said Philippe. 'I could not have accomplished a thing
without the help of my friends.'
He gestured towards the group which had accompanied him from Laroque and
introduced them. 'My accomplice, Mr Roger Blackman, from England.'
The dark-haired Brit smiled as he stepped forward and shook the hand of the
Admiral. 'Pleased to meet you, sir.'
'His sister, Suzette,' added the Frenchman.
The Admiral's right eyebrow lifted slightly as the young woman removed her
baseball cap and shook her head to allow her long, dark hair to fall to her
shoulders.
'Thank you for inviting us aboard, Admiral,' she said pleasantly, smiling as
she looked around the room at the big, polished table with its comfortable
chairs and luxurious fittings. 'This is my first visit to the US navy.'
He bowed. 'It is indeed a very great pleasure to have you aboard my ship, Miss
Blackman.'
Philippe coughed to regain the Admiral's attention and indicated the slim girl
on his left. 'Miss Blackman's cousin, Mademoiselle Marianne de Bosvile.'
The blue eyes before him seemed to pierce right into him and his heart skipped
a beat as the long, golden hair fell from her cap as she removed it.
'Enchanté, Monsieur,' greeted the slim, nineteen-year-old beauty. 'Alors, Je
ne parle pas beaucoup de l'Anglais.'
The Admiral glanced at Commander Jakes who laughed. 'The young lady apologises
for not speaking very much English, sir.'
Flustered, the Senior Officer nodded and passed on the the third male member
the group who introduced himself. 'Jim Marshal from Cambridge, sir. I worked
on the computers with Suzette before the... er... war started.'
The Admiral shook his hand and looked at his companion who hovered in the
background.
'This is our friend, Gillian Green. She used to live near Newmarket and train
horses.'
'Welcome aboard, Miss Green. Your initials are correct, then.'
'Pardon,' said the young woman.
'Gee-gee. A trainer of horses. Appropriate, eh?'
Gillian's face conveyed the "ha, ha, I've heard that one before" look as she
attempted to force a smile. Looking very tired, she was glad of the chair
which was offered to her and they all sat down around the table as another
officer walked in.
'Ah, Captain.' The Admiral turned to the now-seated group. 'This is Henry
Whittaker, Captain of the Columbia. He is also grateful to you for saving his
hide, not to mention his precious boat.'
The Captain glanced briefly around the group and smiled. 'It is a rare
occurrence to have ladies aboard, especially such beautiful ones.'
Suzette smiled, Gillian scowled and Marianne didn't understand a word.
Introductions were completed again and drinks served to relax the atmosphere.
It seemed that no-one wanted to ask the questions which desperately needed to
be asked. How had the war started? Why had the superpowers reacted in the way
they had? Was it just France that had been almost completely devastated by
multiple nuclear warheads? Or were other European countries in the same state?
Where had the destruction finished? Who was left alive?
'We are having a party aboard ship in your honour tonight,' said the Captain.
'We would be very pleased if you would attend.'
'A party?' queried Gillian. 'After all that has happened? Are you out of your
mind?'
'Miss Green,' interrupted the Admiral. 'Captain Whittaker means no offence,
I'm sure. It is simply that the war is now over. The Consortium which planned
it has been defeated and it is now time to unwind a little, just for one
evening. There is plenty of work to be done tomorrow.'
'Have all the members of the Consortium been dealth with?' asked Philippe
quickly to take the heat out of the moment.
'We believe so. The missile dump they had taken over at Aix is now totally
obliterated as well as their headquarters at Mandagout.'
'What about their base at Geneva?' asked Roger.
'No rebels were found at Geneva.' said the Admiral, looking at the plush red
carpet under the polished table.
'But that is where Louis and Corrine were headed when we banished them from
Rouen, wasn't it?' asked Jim.
'It certainly was,' agreed Philippe. 'But we don't know whether they ever made
it.'
'I suppose you're right,' conceded Jim.
'Who are these people, Louis and Corrine?' asked the puzzled Commander.
'They were in the Consortium and it was they who tricked Suzette into coming
to France to operate the equipment for them. At the time, we were convinced
they were working for NATO.'
'What happened to them, precisely?'
'We found out they were in the Consortium and then let them go.'
'You didn't kill them?'
'Of course not,' said Suzette. 'That would have made us as bad as them.'
'So, they could be somewhere out there now, planning revenge?'
'Unlikely. They were alone in their Fourtrack when the fallout rate was still
high. They most probably died on the way.'
'We will know more when the pictures are developed,' said Commander Jakes.
'Pictures?' queried Roger.
'The aircraft we sent north had cameras mounted beneath them in the hopes they
might spot something on the ground.'
'What if they are under the ground?' asked Suzette.
'Under the ground?'
'Yes, Commander. At Rouen, we stayed for a while in a tracking station built
under the ground, just outside the city.'
'That reminds me,' said Philippe. 'My helicopter is still there.'
Suzette suddenly turned and gave him a strange look but said nothing. She
watched him closely as he conversed with the naval officers and discussed
possible alternatives for the future.
'I gather we have you to thank for saving our skins,' said a voice close to
her elbow.
'Sorry?' she queried.
'With the computer and the satellite,' prompted Commander Jakes.
'Oh, it was nothing. Just playing with figures mostly.'
'Do you do it for a living?'
'I did before all this started. I worked at S.I.E.D. in Cambridge,' she
pointed to her colleague who held Gillian's hand. 'With Jim.'
'S.I.E.D.?'
'Satellite Information Evaluation Databank. We interpret the data from
Princess.'
'I'm sorry.' He looked confused. 'Who is Princess?'
 She laughed. 'Not "who". The Photoconductive Radiation Network Communications
Satellite, PRNCS for short, is in Geostationary orbit. It has heat sensors
that scan Western Europe and provide data which can be used to interpret
weather patterns.'
'Oh, weather,' he said, suddenly bored.
'And other things,' Suzette added. 'The French placed Princess in orbit last
year with Ariane. Unfortunately, the rebels gained control of the satellite
and used it for their own ends.'
'How do you know all this?' he asked suspiciously.
'Louis was the former Chief of Security at Rouen and, before we sent him away,
he told us about how the Consortium which started the war was founded by
businessmen who were sick of the restrictions placed upon them by their
respective governments and longed to be free to act as they wished. They
managed, somehow, to trick Western Europe into a war with the Russians.' She
shrugged. 'The rest you know.'
'All we knew at the time was that a large number of nuclear detonations
registered right across Europe before all communication went dead.'
'Was the USA affected at all?'
'Very little. The weather is all to pot, as it seems to be earthwide, but no
actual attack took place on the States itself.'
'Russia?'
'Again, no strikes there, or anywhere in Asia as far as we could tell. The
main area of destruction is Europe. There would appear to be little life left
in France, the Netherlands, Germany, Switzerland, Italy or Eastern Europe.'
'Britain?' she dared to ask.
'No contact since just after it all started. There were no actual detonations
recorded on the islands but the winds were Southerly at the time and the
fallout from France very considerable. Until we land there, it will be
impossible to know for certain how many have survived.'
'I see.'
'When we left the Azores to come here, a separate fleet left for there and
they should arrive there tomorrow. Then we should have more news.'
'Are you in radio contact with them?'
'Some of the time. Atmospherics are not good until the heavy cloud cover
disperses from over central France.'
'What is the plan?'
'Our initial brief was simply to observe and report back. The Admiral was
given instructions as to what to do in the case of hostilities and he reacted
accordingly, as you know. When the fleet was attacked by the Consortium, he
launched the aircraft which attacked the main rebel bases.'
'How sure are you that all the rebels are now dead and gone?'
'As sure as we can be.' He paused. 'What will you do now? All of you?'
'I don't know. Return to England, I suppose. Jim and Gill have... had... homes
there and so did I. I don't know what my brother will do. He might return to
England or stay in France with Marianne.'
'And Monsieur Dubois?'
'Philippe? He was attached to the British Embassy in London. He will probably
want to stay in France to help to supervise the return to normality, if such a
thing is possible.'
He placed his hand lightly upon her arm. 'I regret that France will never be
the same, Miss Blackman.'
'No,' she said sadly. 'I don't suppose it will.'
~~~~~
WEDNESDAY 11th AUGUST - 1600 hrs.
Suzette wandered aimlessly through the damaged shell that had been her
mother's home in the valley close to Sorède. For many years, the family had
lived in the valley since her father had met the fair-haired French girl,
Juliette de Bosvile, who had become his wife. They had bought the villa and
renovated it before her mother had died.
She looked around sadly at the damage the Consortium had inflicted on the
house in their attempts to dispose of her. Daylight could be seen through the
roof where the cannon shells from the helicopter had hit. Signs of fire were
everywhere as was the smell of charcoal as the bed was burnt and the mirror
had been smashed from its position above the hearth.
Perhaps, in time, something could be done to put right the damage inflicted
but not now, there were more important issues at stake. She eventually found
what she had been looking for and, with a last look round, walked through the
gap where the patio doors had been and met Marianne as she stood beside the
pool with Roger and Philippe.
'Have you got everything you wanted?' asked Roger cheerfully.
'I think so,' she said non-commitally. 'I shall be glad to get out of these
clothes at last. If you can find anything that might be useful, take it.'
'Thanks,' said her brother. 'But Philippe and I raided a shop in Argèles this
morning and got all the clothes we need.'
'Isn't that looting?'
'Not when everyone died from the fallout. Legally, there is no owner any
more.'
'I got some of my things from home,' said Marianne quickly, as if on the
defensive.
'Then we are ready?'
Roger nodded and Philippe watched thoughtfully as Suzette opened the door of
her white Ford Cosworth and got in behind the wheel. She was not as friendly
as usual and seemed to be keeping something from him but he couldn't, for the
life of him, think what it could be.
The engine burst into life as the last door closed and Suzette turned onto the
track that led through the forest, up the side of Pic Neulos atop which the
tracking station sat, its main receptor dish focused on a tiny piece of
electronics wizardry 40,000 kilometres away. The Cosworth left behind a cloud
of dust as it roared up the forest trail, the sound of the Cosworth engine
echoing from the trees on the far side of the valley. Eventually, they were at
the top and turned down the road to the tracking station where Jim, Gillian
and Major Al Slazinski of the US Marines awaited their return.
~~~~~
WEDNESDAY 11th AUGUST - 1630 hrs.
Jim Marshal toyed with the main console as the other two watched. A picture
formed and then kept changing as the data came in from Princess and was sorted
and filed by the CADE (computer assisted data evaluation) software.
'Well?' asked Gillian as he punched at the keys. 'What have you found?'
'I don't know,' he said, looking puzzled. 'When Suzette returns, she will know
what it means.'
'Can't you even guess?' asked the concerned Major as he stared at the flashing
console.
Jim smiled. 'Not a chance. I was trained as an operator, not an evaluator.
Besides, much of this information is in French and only Suzette will
understand what it really means.'
The sound of the car drawing up outside made them look up.
'That will be Suzette,' said Marianne, running to open the door.
'Is this Blackman girl really that good?' asked the Major.
'Suzette is brilliant,' said Jim. 'She was trained by the French Agency when
Princess was first launched and only Suzette knows the code to break into the
programme to adjust the deviation angle.'
'Now you've got me real confused, boy.'
'Never mind. It just means that, without Suzette, the language might as well
be in Swahili. I can operate the equipment and catalogue the data but only she
can understand the full implications.'
'You mean she can read all those blips and things and tell exactly what they
mean?'
'Oh, yes. How do you think she knew your ships had entered the Mediterranean?
In fact, she even knew there was going to be a war before it started.'
'She did?' The cigar hit the floor.
'I did what?' asked Suzette as she walked in.
'I was just telling the Major how clever you are.'
'Oh, you were, were you?' she scolded playfully. 'And what have you found?'
Jim scratched his head. 'I don't know for certain. It's just that there is an
odd movement in EX zone.'
'EX? Under the sea?' She looked surprised. 'Let me look.'
Suzette leant over the console and punched a few keys and waited for the
printer to stop before tearing off the hard copy. She smiled. 'It seems that
the UN fleet is going to have visitors this evening.'
~~~~~
GAMBIT

WEDNESDAY 11th AUGUST - 1900 hrs.
The party on board Columbia that evening was a little too formal for Suzette.
Already Gillian, dressed in floppy pink sweater and pleated skirt, had
immersed herself in the throng of sailors, dancing with as many as she could.
The more subdued Marianne, immaculate in a black chiffon micro-dress, clung
tightly to Roger, turning down all other offers while Jim and Philippe mingled
and were introduced to all and sundry by the jovial Al Slazinski. Admiral
Davison kept the smiling, brown-eyed Suzette all to himself - he was not
stupid.
'Well, Miss Blackman,' he said over a drink. 'The Major informs me we are to
have visitors this evening. Would you care to enlighten me?'
Suzette smiled and fluttered her long eyelashes. 'Now Admiral. Would I try to
hide anything from you?'
'I don't know. Would you?'
'Show me how you dance and I will let you into my closest secrets,' she said
cheekily.
The Admiral took her suntanned arm and led her to the floor as other officers
stood respectfully aside. Placing one arm around her slender waist, he led her
into the waltz as her dark hair swirled around her bare shoulders and her
long, white dress hugged her slim body like a second skin.
'You dance well, Admiral. You must have had years of practice.'
'I've been around, Miss Blackman.' He changed the subject quickly and neatly.
'The er... visitors?'
'Thirty minutes!' she said without hesitation.
'Eh?'
'They will be here in thirty minutes, give or take an hour or two.'
'Are you pulling my leg, young lady?'
'Now would I do a thing like that?'
'I don't know. I hardly know you, though I feel that I would like to.'
'I'm afraid there's not much to tell. My mother was French and my father was
in the forces until he died in the Falklands.'
They suddenly stopped dancing and the Admiral stared at her as the penny
dropped. 'Well, I'll be darned! You're John Blackman's daughter, aren't you?'
Suzette looked surprised. 'You knew my father?'
'Very well. He was my contact after the Normandy landings.'
She laughed. 'That was a long time before I was born.'
'Yes, he was just a boy himself really but, even then, he knew what he wanted.
I knew him when he first met your mother, did you know that?'
'No. Tell me about it.'
'He was dropped by submarine into southern France in 1945 to make contact with
the resistance. As he could speak both French and Spanish, he was invaluable
to them. It was while they were regrouping in the Pyrenees that the Germans
arrived in Laroque to smuggle some escapees into Spain. Your father was a very
brave man.'
She looked sad. 'I loved him very much and missed him when he was killed.'
'He was on HMS Sheffield, wasn't he?'
Suzette's head went on one side. 'How did you know? He was not listed, they
tell me.'
'No. None of the SAS personnel were listed.'
Her mouth dropped open. 'SAS?'
'I don't suppose you knew and it certainly doesn't matter now. His mission was
a secret one which could have ended the Falklands conflict much sooner if he
had been able to reach his destination. Then that Exocet came out of the blue.
What a waste.'
They were silent for a long time as Suzette laid her head on the Admiral's arm
and remembered her father's smiling face and kindly ways. Who would have
thought what he really did for a living?
'Tell me about your friend. Marianne, isn't it?'
'Marianne is very French. You would hardly know we were cousins, would you?'
'Not at first glance. Your build is similar but not the colouring.'
'No. Marianne has kept the true de Bosvile hair and eyes whereas I have the
Blackman family looks.'
'Has the family always live around the south of France.'
'Good Heavens, no. The whole family is thoroughbred English.'
'English?'
'Most certainly. With the exception of a few small gaps, our family has been
traced right back to the sixth century.'
'The sixth century? Impossible.'
'Not at all. Marianne still has the original copy of the De Bosvile
Chronicles, started by Lady Mary Bosvile, Countess of Ramsden.'
A sly smirk came to his face.
Suzette frowned. 'You don't believe me, do you?'
'It does stretch the imagination. Why, most families cannot even trace their
ancestry back to the middle ages.'
'I have a friend in London who has access to all the computerised information.
I simply linked my own computer to hers and identified all the links. It took
almost two years, even for the computer to sift through it all, but I did it.
Cousin Marianne is a direct descendant of King Arthur of Camelot.'
'You jest, surely.'
'Not at all. The King's son was Ædred of York. That was on Lady Mary's side.
Lord Andrew was the son of Sir John Bosvile who's ancestry has been traced
back to Marchant de Bosvile who accompanied Duke William in 1066 and was
granted land in Yorkshire.'
'Sounds like quite an important family you share with your cousin.'
'Not really.' She leant closer. 'In truth, we are a family of rebels.'
'Rebels?'
'I'm afraid so. That's why you don't read much about us in history. King Ædred
and his twin sister, Princess Ædra of Camelot, fought against some of the more
unscrupulous members of the early Church and tended to be left out of the
historical records which were generally kept by the Church people themselves.
The twins hated the pomp and corruption which were beginning to creep into
Christianity at that time and tried their best to halt the rot. They failed,
of course. Despite all their hard work, William eventually invaded and Britain
became a kind of satellite of the Holy Roman Empire.'
'Britain became Norman.'
'Not all of it. It was a long time before the influence became felt in the
north and that is where Marchant de Bosvile was sent, to guard the northern
boundary with the Anglisc. Unfortunately, he was one of the many knights who
fell out with William over his attitudes towards the slavery of the native
population and was banished to the wilds of Northumbria for his sins. The
complete history was recorded in the little church at Yarm in Cleveland.'
'So this Marchant de Bosvile was another rebel, then?'
'Definitely. He caused the de Brus family considerable aggravation in the
years following the conquest. It was his grand-daughter, another Marianne de
Bosvile, who married Robin Hood.'
'So, Robin Hood was a real person?'
'Robin? Oh Yes. That wasn't his real name, naturally, and many of the stories
about him have been grossly exaggerated. But he was real, all right. It's all
in the Chronicles.'
'They should make interesting reading.'
'I doubt it.'
The Admiral looked puzzled.
Suzette laughed. 'If you can read Medieval French, you will understand them.
If not, don't bother to try.'
'Why French?'
'Because Lord Andrew and Lady Mary Bosvile spent most of their lives in
France.' She leant closer and whispered. 'They were spies, you see.'
'Spies?'
'Oh, yes. Spies for King Charles the Second. Unfortunately, they fell out with
the King and had to stay in France, or so the story goes. I suspect there was
something funny going on, myself. Though they were friends of Louis XIV, he
never knew if he could really trust them or not.'
'More rebels?'
She nodded. 'And now there is Marianne, Roger and I.'
'All with blue blood.'
'Not me. My blood is one-hundred-percent red. It is Marianne who has all the
blue blood.'
Admiral Davison looked across at the slim girl dressed in black. 'Mademoiselle
de Bosvile does not look like a rebel to me.'
'You wait till you get to know her better. She can be quite a wildcat when she
wants to be.'
'And what gets her worked up? Religion? Politics?'
'Not our Marianne. Like her ancestors, she would fight tooth and nail for
peace and avoid any conflict.'
They stopped dancing as the music ended and walked across to the bar for
drinks.
'And what about you, Miss Blackman. What turns you on?'
'Not a lot,' she smiled as she sipped a Dubonnet heavily diluted with
lemonade. 'I'm the quiet, sober type.'
'There must be something.'
'Something I would fight for, you mean? Yes. I would fight to retain my
honour.'
The Admiral looked surprised. 'That's an old-fashioned term. And an old
fashioned ideal, if you don't mind me saying so.'
'I'm an old fashioned girl, or so Gill keeps telling me. She says I ought to
enjoy myself more, come out of my shell a bit.'
'I would hardly have described you as inhibited. Not in that get-up.'
Suzette glanced down briefly to the dress which hid nothing and then smiled to
herself. 'When I find the right man, he will get me all - whole and complete.
But woe betide any man who tries to jump the gun.'
'When you first arrived on board, I got the distinct impression that Monsieur
Dubois was the centre of your attention.'
'Impressions can be misleading. I like him very much but there are some
important questions that need to be answered first.'
'Such as..?'
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of an ensign who took the
Admiral aside and whispered in his ear for several minutes. Glancing at
Suzette the Admiral nodded and the ensign left to speak with Commander Jakes.
'It seems, Miss Blackman, that our visitors have arrived. I think you deserve
to be in on the meeting as you seem to know so much about it.' He turned and
spoke to the Captain. 'Mr Whittaker, prepare for action. We don't know what
they are up to.'
'No,' interrupted Suzette, her hand on the Admiral's arm. 'Don't do anything
that might provoke them. There has been enough trouble already. Let's not add
to it.'
Her eyes seemed to plead with him as he stood, undecided, though realising the
logic of what she was saying.
'Trust me,' she said.
It was a long time before any of them spoke. It was the Admiral who broke the
silence. 'Stand down, Captain. Let's play it cool.'
'With respect, Admiral,' said the Captain quietly. 'I hope you know what you
are doing.'
'So do I, Henry. So do I.'
The Admiral spoke again to the Captain who then escorted Suzette towards the
boardroom whilst the senior officer took a Lieutenant aside.
'Benson, meet me in the boardroom in five minutes and bring your handgun.'
'My handgun? Do you think our visitors are about to attack us?'
'Not at all, Lieutenant. If they were, they would have already done so and we
would no longer be here to talk about it. Sonar have just reported a sounding
off the port beam. It appears we are about to have the pleasure of the company
of the Russian Navy.'
The Lieutenant looked taken-aback. 'The Russian fleet?'
'No. Just one submarine. Sonar say the signature is a little blurred but,
nevertheless, clearly that of a Malinov class nuclear submarine.'
'That's their new one, isn't it?'
'Precisely. Capable of silent running, never resurfacing and enough plutonium
to wipe out half of the United States. Its Captain must have a very good
reason for making himself known to us now.'
'Then they come in peace.'
'It would seem so.'
'Then why the gun?'
'For the girl.'
'Miss Blackman?'
'Precisely. She knew of this in advance and I suspect she knows one hell of a
lot more than she is letting on.'
'But she is not armed.'
'Of course not. Anything inside that dress would stick out a mile.'
Benson sneered. 'They do, sir.'
'Don't be vulgar, Lieutenant,' snapped the Admiral. 'She is not the flighty
type so she can only be wearing a dress like that for one reason and one
reason only, to make it absolutely clear to us all that there is nothing
whatsoever hidden beneath it. That, in my book, makes her an extremely
dangerous person indeed.'
'What do you want me to do?'
'Nothing, unless she attempts to convey anything to the Russians. If she does,
then shoot her.'
'Shoot her?'
'Certainly. And, Lieutenant.'
The younger man waited in expectation.
'Shoot to kill!'
~~~~~
WEDNESDAY 11th AUGUST - 2030 hrs.
Water cascaded from the glistening hull of Malinov One as it rose majestically
from the sea just two hundred metres from SS Columbia. Unlike earlier
submarines of the World War Two variety, there were no guns, no visible
aerials nor periscopes, just a dome on the foredeck where the reactor was
located, and a squat conning tower with a small rotating radar dish rising
from the top. Its death-dealing power was located deep inside its almost
quarter-mile length and massive girth. Columbia launched a boat which narrowed
the gap between the huge warships of very different kinds and, ten minutes
later, two officers were shown into the boardroom of the UN flagship.
'Good Evening, Admiral,' greeted the Russian Leader with a bow. 'I am Colonel
Andrei Narovic of the Russian Navy and this is my colleague, Major Gobonev.'
The Admiral returned his bow. 'Welcome aboard Columbia, Colonel. You, too,
Major. May I introduce Captain Henry Whittaker, United States Navy, and
Commander John Jakes, head of the United Nations Air and Ground personnel.'
The Russian Colonel shook hands all round and paused at the sight of Suzette.
'And the lady in white?'
'Miss Suzette Blackman, a civilian from England.'
Lieutenant Benson eased the .45 automatic from his belt and held it, at the
ready, behind his back while the Russian took her hand and kissed it briefly.
'I am deeply honoured, Miss Blackman. This is indeed a pleasure for which I
was quite unprepared.'
'Zdravstvuyet, Comrade,' said Suzette with a quick nod and the Russian
hesitated and then smiled as he let go of her hand and stood back. The
Lieutenant breathed again.
'It seems,' announced Colonel Narovic to all present. 'That we are all in,
(how you say it?) the same ship.'
'Boat.'
'Boat?'
'In the same boat,' clarified the Admiral with a smile.
'As you say, Admiral Davison.' He paused. 'What does your government say you
must do now?'
'I have to clarify that I am not here as a representative of the United States
government but of the United Nations of which your great country is also a
member. We have come only in the capacity of peace bringers. I am led to
understand that the nuclear exchange which has taken place was the fault of
neither of our nations.'
'How do you know this is true?'
'Because Miss Blackman here monitored the whole affair. Both your people and
mine were tricked into attacking each others' forces with the effect that the
population of almost the whole of Europe has been annihilated.'
The Colonel turned to Suzette. 'How were you able to monitor this?'
'By satellite,' she replied confidently.
'NATO spy satellite?' Major Gobonev snided.
'Not at all,' she replied without offence. 'I am an Anglo-French civilian and
use non-military equipment. Initially, the satellite, Princess, was put into
geostationary orbit by the French and Britain was given permission to use the
data to monitor the weather patterns by means of heat probes. Unfortunately,
Princess was taken over by the Consortium which instigated the war and used it
to misdirect the data so that each side believed itself to be under nuclear
attack from the other. Both retaliated as instructed and Boom! No Europe.'
The Russian Major sneered. 'It cannot be that simple.'
'Why not? Often it is the simple things that work most effectively. NATO
bombers were given false information and incorrect codes were fed to your
submarines. Within an hour of the data corruption, nuclear exchanges had taken
place with the loss of millions of lives.'
'This Consortium. What did it hope to gain?'
She placed a long index finger on his chest. 'Power, comrade. When the dust
settled, they would come up out of their fallout shelters and make Europe one
big empire and control the finances of the world.'
The Russian Colonel turned to the Admiral. 'And now they are all destroyed?'
'We believe so. Miss Blackman's brother was able to break into their
headquarters building at Mandagout and locate the other control centres. UN
aircraft from Columbia then destroyed those centres.'
'So. In the whole area, there is just your small fleet and my submarine.'
Suzette suddenly frowned.
'It would seem so,' said the Admiral. 'With the exception of a few thousand
survivors who had the good sense or luck to stay underground.'
'Colonel,' interrupted Suzette, stepping slowly in his direction. 'Do you
still play chess?'
The Russian looked taken aback for a moment before he smiled. 'Of course. Your
memory must be very good, Miss Blackman. It is some years since I played in
championships.'
'Pawn to King's Knight Three,' she suddenly challenged.
There was a stunned silence which lasted for several minutes as Suzette moved
until she stood a foot from the Colonel, facing him with her hands loosely
clasped behind her back, her shoulders pulled back, her head raised to look
him straight in the eyes, her chest and slightly-rounded belly thrust towards
him as she rocked on the side of her shoes like a young child.
Colonel Narovic smiled and responded 'Pawn to Queen Four.'
'King's Bishop to King's Rook Three,' retaliated Suzette without a second's
hesitation and the smile dropped from the Russian's face.
'What the hell is she up to?' whispered Captain Whittaker.
'It's called playing him at his own game, I suspect,' replied the Admiral
quietly.
'But how can they play chess? They have no board, no pieces.'
The Admiral smiled. 'A good Commander knows how to find out where all his
troops are at any one time. A great Commander knows, instinctively, where they
all are without even looking. The very best kind of Commander also knows, with
a dead certainty, exactly what his opponent will do under any given set of
circumstances.'
'But she has started all wrong and this man is a world-class champion. I am by
no means an expert at the game but I do know enough about it to be sure she
cannot hope to win by starting like this.'
The Admiral pondered for a moment. 'I'll bet my next month's wages she beats
him.'
'What? After she's begun with a Weather-Girl's Gambit?'
'Watch closely, Henry. I think that you and I and the Russians are about to
receive a lesson in human nature. I don't yet know what she's up to but I
intend to let her have her head. You can call her a simple Weather-Girl if you
like but, whatever else she might be, that kid is one very smart cookie.'
'Queen to King's Rook Five,' the Russian pronounced, the smile firmly back on
his face.
He had "taken" five of Suzette's pieces in just seven quick moves and was very
pleased with himself. The UN officers stood in silence and Suzette's eyes
never left the Colonel's for a second, their bodies only inches apart.
Lieutenant Benson took the safety catch off his automatic and tensed himself.
'Queen's Knight to Queen's Rook Six,' Suzette said without blinking.
The former chess champion paused. It was too easy. He had played hundreds of
games in his life and this was going to be the quickest victory ever.
'Queen's Rook to King Five,' he said after considerable thought. Any minute
now.
'Queen's Knight to Queen's Bishop Seven,' she instinctively returned.
The Russian Colonel hesitated, his smile slowly dissipating. The Lieutenant's
arm hung by his side, the gun at the ready.
'Check!' Suzette tossed into the ensuing silence.
The atmosphere could have been cut with a knife as the Russian glared down at
the slip of a girl who stood before him, her innocent brown eyes big and wide.
The fingers of his right hand behind his back touched something solid up the
sleeve of his left arm. A sideways glance told him what he had hoped he would
not see but knew he would. The Major was watching him closely so he dare not
lose now. The pride of the whole Russian Navy depended on his winning this
exchange.
Unfortunately, he had made the worst possible mistake. He had become
over-confident, missing a vital move, one that could now cost him the game.
There was only one possible way he could get out of it.
'King to Queen One,' he gambled.
Suzette was silent. The handle of the switch-blade knife was now in the
Colonel's right hand, his thumb on the tiny button that would release the
razor-sharp, five-inch blade with the notched end, designed to rip its way
through flesh and cause the maximum damage in the process. If she twigged him,
if she won, he had only one course of action to take for the pride of Mother
Russia. For that reason, he had to beat her.
He was deceiving himself. By getting this far, she had proved that she knew
the game she was playing and there was no way she would miss this chance to
humiliate him. Slowly, he looked down the front of Suzette's dress at the
material stretched tightly over her most precious assets, the shape of her
navel clearly seen below them. In his imagination, he drew himself onto tiptoe
and stepped back onto his left foot, his right arm scything upwards. The knife
would enter her body just above the navel, plunging to the hilt and then,
curving upwards, the blade would sever the right ventricle of her heart as the
first of the Lieutenant's bullets hit him. Together, they would fall in an
embrace of death, as their bodies twitched their last in front of this
prestigious audience. He would be dead but would be posthumously hailed as a
great hero at home.
He opened his mouth to speak.
'Where is Malinov Two?' asked Suzette quietly.
It would have taken a chain saw to cut the atmosphere at that moment as the
pretty, twenty-three-year-old computer data analyst from Cambridge faced the
veteran naval officer from Moskva; she relaxed, he poised ready to slice her
wide open. The quiet snick of the automatic broke the silence and Colonel
Narovic glanced sideways, the hole at the end of the Lieutenant's barrel
looking like the mouth of a cannon at such close range. He did not answer as
he fought with himself over what he should now do. If he didn't act, the
Russian Major would kill them both. She would be ripped apart by the
soft-nosed bullets loaded into the pistol inside the Major's jacket, he
following her to the floor in deep shame and disgrace. As he remained poised,
his body beginning to shake as sweat broke out on his brow, Suzette began to
speak quietly but confidently.
'At oh-three-hundred hours European Time on Wednesday 28th July, Malinovs One
and Two left the Black Sea beneath a Petrovic supertanker. By noon, both
vessels had passed through the Dardanelles, Malinov One following the coast of
Turkey, Malinov Two heading for the Agean. Malinov One launched her missiles
from position eight-degrees east, forty-two north, while Malinov Two stayed at
six-degrees east, forty-three north.' She paused. 'I ask you again, Colonel
Narovic. Where is Malinov Two?'
The silence was overbearing. Admiral Davison's mind reeled. What was the girl
talking about? There is no Malinov Two, surely. And if there was, why was she
so interested in it?
Lieutenant Benson's hand began to sweat as it held the automatic pointed at
the Russian's face. He had seen the knife and was ready to fire. He hoped he
would be quick enough to save Miss Blackman's life.
So she knew, thought Colonel Narovic. But how could she? Even all the
Presidium did not know of the second Malinov series super-sub.
'Shall I tell you?' she offered.
No, he thought, not that. If she revealed the position of Malinov Two, their
plan will have failed. The Americans would launch their aircraft and attack.
The submarine would likely escape but at what cost? The girl would tell and
the secret would be out.
Instead, Suzette spoke the last words he wanted to hear and, in doing so,
signed her own death warrant. 'Queen to King's Bishop Six.'
He looked into her eyes for what would be the last time as she stood,
seemingly holding out herself towards him to receive the notched sliver of
honed steel that would tear the life from her body.
Suzette confirmed the finality. 'Checkmate!'
~~~~~




STRATEGY

WEDNESDAY 11th AUGUST - 2100 hrs.
The receiver on Malinov Two bleeped twice as Captain Ralentov glanced at his
instrument panel and then nodded to the helmsman. Orders were given and,
slowly, the mighty warship rose to the surface, her weapon systems shut down,
and then glided silently towards the UN fleet as the evening sun hung poised
just above the surface of the Mediterranean Sea.
~~~~~
MAJOR Gobonev smiled, placed the miniature transmitter on the polished table
and stepped alongside his countryman, touching his arm gently and
reassuringly.
'From whom did you learn to play such excellent chess, Miss Blackman?' he
asked in perfect English.
'I didn't,' Suzette replied, not taking her eyes from the Colonel's face.
'This has been my very first game.'
He looked staggered as his Colonel relaxed and placed the folded switchblade
into his pocket. The Lieutenant dropped his gun arm at a nod from the Admiral
who was more perplexed than he cared to show.
'Malinov Two will be alongside in fifteen minutes,' confirmed the Major. 'I
regret the deception which was necessary until we discovered whether or not
our nations were still hostile towards each other.
'Would you have fired your nuclear torpedoes at us?' asked the Admiral.
'If necessary,' nodded the Major, indicating the transmitter. 'One bleep for
disappear, two for surface and reveal, three for fire.'
'We were easy targets, weren't we?' asked Suzette.
'You were.' He smiled again. 'How did you know?'
'I didn't, not for certain. I overheard the ensign say that the sonar signal
was slightly distorted which suggested to me that Malinov Two was using the
sub-aqua noise from Malinov One to cover its approach to within firing range.'
'And, of course, you already knew there were two of us?'
'Yes, I did. You left Odessa base together under the cover of Petrovic and had
launched together so it stood to reason you would approach the UN fleet in
unison. However, your victory would have been a short lived one.'
Slowly and carefully, Suzette held up her left hand and the confused Russians
stared at it.
On two of her fingers were patterned gold rings and, as the officers peered
carefully, they saw that spot-soldered to them were very fine copper wires
which ran, almost invisibly, across the palm of her hand to the large digital
watch adorning her wrist. The Colonel swallowed and the others stared as she
lifted the bottom half of the watch face and pressed six of the tiny buttons.
'As long as I held my fingers together, you were all safe. If, however, I
became convinced you were not who you seemed to be and Europe was still under
threat, I would have simply opened my hand to break the contacts. Inside my
watch is a tiny, short-range transmitter linked to a receiver at the tracking
station.' She glanced at the Major. 'You see, Comrade Gobonev, modern
technology was not the sole prerogative of the Soviet Union.'
'Go on,' prompted the Admiral.
'The receiver is attached to a thermonuclear device which is part of the
self-destruct mechanism at the tracking station on nearby Pic Neulos. If
anything was to happen to me, everything within twenty miles of that spot
would be totally obliterated, including all these ships.'
'Good God,' said Captain Whittaker, sitting down. 'I think I need a drink.'
'Then I suggest a drink to détente, gentlemen,' proposed the Admiral.
Drinks were served and Suzette was left facing the Russian Colonel.
'I...I...' he started.
'You nearly killed us all, Colonel Narovic.'
'What can I say?'
'Nothing. You would simply have done what you felt you had to do.'
'But the chess? You say you have never played before?'
'I didn't say that. I simply said that no-one had trained me and that you were
my first real opponent.'
He was utterly perplexed. 'But the game, the strategy.'
'Computers, Colonel. When I completed my training course at S.I.E.D., my
brother gave me a high-level computer programme which no-one had ever beaten.
He bet me that I couldn't master it.'
'Did he now?'
'Yes. And if I won, he promised he would tune my car for me.'
'Your car?'
She smiled. 'It goes very fast now.'
'You beat the computer?'
Suzette nodded. 'Eventually. You see, I have a very useful photographic memory
and every time I made a mistake, and at first I made a great many, I watched
how the computer reacted to them and remembered each and every move. It was a
very complex programme, designed by an expert but, after a hundred or so
tries, I learned to beat it. Now, I get bored, because I know the moves better
than the software does.'
He laughed to release the tension. 'Then, in a manner of speaking, I was
really playing against a computer.'
'Colonel,' she joined in the merriment. 'You didn't stand a chance.'
'But tell me. What if you had not beaten the computer? You would have lost
your bet. What would your brother have asked of you in return?'
'Roger didn't ask. But he knew me well enough to know that whatever he asked
for, I would have given.'
'Anything?' he queried, his right eyebrow raised.
'If you knew me better, Colonel, you would not need to ask such a question. I
love my brother very much and trust him implicitly. He would never do anything
to harm me.'
'Beware of trust, Miss Blackman,' said the Russian soberly. 'Someday, you
might find it has been misplaced.'
~~~~~
THURSDAY 12th AUGUST - 0900 hrs.
They were invited to stay the night on Columbia with the two Russian
submarines moored alongside the massive aircraft carrier as the water lapped
against their hulls. A close watch was kept by both nations upon each other's
fleet but without incident. Perhaps a kind of peace had been reached at last.
Breakfast was a relatively sober affair due to the fact that a considerable
amount of Rye and Vodka had been consumed to celebrate their new-found
détente. Suzette seemed the only truly cheerful one, a lover of pure orange
juice.
'I now have the pictures that have been developed,' announced the Admiral. 'It
seems there is lot of work to be done to put Europe right. Little remains, as
far as our experts can tell, of any form of central government in the European
countries.'
'And what of Britain?' asked Roger.
'No contact yet with the northern fleet. I hope the news, when it comes, will
be better.'
'We must set up some kind of relief organisation,' said Philippe. He looked
from the Admiral to the Russian Colonel. 'Will your governments help?'
'I have received a coded communiqué from Washington,' said Admiral Davison.
'The President is sending a representative across in the next day or so to
weigh up the situation.'
'And your people?' Suzette asked the Russians.
'They have been less open about their offers,' replied the Major. 'I fear they
will wait for a United Nations directive before acting.'
The Admiral pushed his empty plate away from himself. 'I shall send in my full
report later in the day. I would be honoured, Colonel Narovic, if you would
assist me and confirm my observations.'
'In the furtherance of peace, Admiral, I would gladly do so.'
'Can I help?' asked Suzette cheerfully, probably knowing far more about the
true situation than both of the men put together.
The two military leaders looked at each other.
'It is possible you could be useful for something,' said the Russian.
'We will need weather reports,' added the Admiral.
Suzette sat in silence for a long time.
Her brother saved her embarrassment and spoke for them all. 'Well, if you
don't need us, gentlemen, we will go and repair our house or clean our car or
something. Might I beg us a lift back to land?' He stood up.
'Of course, Mr Blackman,' said the Admiral. 'Our helicopter is at your
disposal and Major Slazinski has orders to assist you in any way possible. He
will be in radio contact with us here and keep you supplied with food and
whatever else you need.'
'You are very kind,' said Philippe, also standing. He turned to the Russians.
'It was nice meeting you, comrades. I'm sure we will meet again sometime,
under less stressful circumstances.'
'I hope so,' said Major Gobonev. He turned to Suzette. 'Proschaneye, Miss
Blackman - Farewell.'
'Dos vidanya,' she responded with a brief glance at Colonel Narovic. 'Until we
meet again.'
~~~~~
FRIDAY 13th AUGUST - 1500 hrs.
The sound of the labouring engines caused Philippe to look up from his repair
work on Suzette's villa and lean out of the broken window. Roger stepped onto
the patio and looked down the hill to where the three trucks wound their way
through the narrow gorge that cut off their valley from the wide, once-fertile
Plain of Rousillon.
'It looks like Carlos,' he announced with a smile.
'He seems to have gathered a few friends along the way,' observed Suzette,
modestly tucking a towel around herself as she padded from the pool area.
The sun bore down on them and Marianne tilted back the wide-brimmed hat and
opened one eye. 'Qu'est-ce-qu'il-y-a?'
'C'est Carlos et beaucoup des amis,' replied Suzette, waving towards the first
of the approaching vehicles which responded with a frantic tooting on the
horn.
Philippe slipped his arm around her slim waist. 'So they finally made it,' he
said.
'I wonder where they acquired the other two trucks.'
He laughed. 'Pinched them along the way, I expect.'
'That's not funny,' she said seriously.
'But the previous owners will have been killed, Suzette. They won't miss
them.'
'That's not the point. Someone may have survived. I told Roger the other day,
we can't just go around looting whatever we need.'
'Why not?'
'It just doesn't seem right, that's why not.'
'Suzette, wake up to reality. If we are to survive, we must use whatever is
available and at our disposable.'
She shrugged. 'Please yourself. I'm going to get dressed, it's nearly time for
me to relieve Jim at the tracking station.'
He patted her bottom playfully. 'You look dressed enough for me.'
'What? In a bikini bottom and hand-towel? Major Slazinski would have a heart
attack if I turned up looking like this.'
'Poor Al. He wouldn't know what had hit him.'
'At least he is a gentleman and honest at that.'
Philippe frowned. 'What did you mean by that remark?'
'Nothing,' she said, turning away.
He grabbed for her and ended up with the towel in his hand. He reached out
again but Marianne stood between them in her black swimsuit, her hands on her
slim hips.
'Non,' she said to Philippe. 'Restez-la.'
Philippe glared at the French teenager who stood defiantly in front of him
until she took the heat out of the moment by reaching out and touching his
bare chest gently with her long fingers. 'S'il-tu plait.'
With a shrug, he turned away to greet the new arrivals who had assisted with
the defeat of the Consortium. There were four of the original group who had
once been Basque separatists but had been found by Roger just a few days ago.
En Route, They had been joined by other survivors and had armed themselves and
proved worthy colleagues. Roger welcomed them with a typical British handshake
and invited them to the villa while Marianne greeted them more warmly.
Inside the villa, Suzette pulled on a pair of denim shorts and a white blouse,
and tucked her hair into a pony-tail behind her dark glasses. After a brief
greeting to the new arrivals, she slipped behind the wheel of her Cosworth
and, in a cloud of dust, roared up the narrow track towards the roof of the
Anti-Pyrenees. The sound of the engine echoed from the trees on the other side
of the valley as she negotiated the tight bends that threaded through the
forest on the slopes of Pic Neulos. However, she did not hear this echo as her
ears were occupied with the sounds of Fleetwood Mac blaring from her four-way
speaker system which seemed just right to suit her mood. Why wasn't Philippe
being honest with her? Two days ago, she would gladly have married him. But
Now...? Having suffered badly at the hands of French Security in the days
leading up to the destruction, she was now wary when things appeared not to
fit together perfectly. Was it her imagination? Nagging at her mind were the
words of Colonel Narovic. Trust was good but it could be misplaced and, when
it was, the results could be tragic.
Turning left at the top of the pass, Suzette paused for a moment and looked
down the valley. It looked little different to the last time she had done so,
before all this started. The Plain of Rousillon lay stretched out below her
into the far distance where the sea shone blue in the afternoon sun. With a
sigh, she pushed on until the low concrete building came into sight with the
giant helicopter gunship parked beside it, the only level ground for miles
around. The soldier sitting beside it jumped to his feet as she approached,
parked the car in the shade and then climbed out of the driver's door.
A low whistle greeted her. A month ago and she would have retorted angrily at
such a blatant advance. Today, she smiled. 'Hi, Martin. Is Al inside?'
'He is, Miss Blackman. Wow, you look swell, ma'am.'
'Less of the "ma'am", kid. I'm twenty-three, not fifty-three.'
'Yes, Miss Blackman, I mean no, Miss Blackman.'
She stood before the young rookie. 'Where did you sleep last night?'
He looked puzzled. 'On the 'copter, miss. Where else?'
'Come inside,' she said and turned to go.
'But I can't. My orders...'
Suzette returned and grabbed his collar. 'Inside, soldier,' she said cheekily.
'You're doing yourself no good at all out here in this hot sun.'
The air inside the concrete building was considerably cooler as Suzette closed
the door and ushered Corporal Fisher into the main control room of the
tracking station. Jim Marshal looked up from the console and smiled as Gillian
stood up and kissed her friend's cheek. Major Slazinski glowered at his junior
who looked as if he would rather be anywhere else than on that spot.
'I brought him in out of the sun,' clarified Suzette. 'He is achieving nothing
out there.'
'I ordered him to guard the helicopter,' mumbled the Major, his cigar still in
his mouth.
Suzette snatched it out and stuck it in his top pocket.
'You light up that thing in here, Al, and I'll throw you out,' she threatened,
pushing her shades onto the top of her head. 'Now why don't you open some of
those cool cokes you brought over from Columbia this morning and we'll have a
cosy chat.'
'Chat?' he queried, trying desperately to keep his eyes off her long legs and
low-buttoned blouse.
'Coke,' she commanded, prodding his chest with her long finger. He nodded and
returned in a few minutes with opened bottles for them all.
'Al,' Suzette said as he handed her a cool bottle. 'How often do you have to
report in about us?'
The black giant from the ghettos of Brooklyn spluttered on his coke and the
looked very guilty as Suzette faced him, demanding an answer.
'Twice a day,' he eventually admitted. 'How did you know?'
'I am slow sometimes, but not completely stupid. Commander Jakes was much too
quick to assign you to us. He could simply have waited for us to call him up
the radio but he didn't. He sent you to watch us instead. Does he think we're
going to attack his precious Task Force?'
'I don't know,' the Major said with head bowed. 'I just obey orders.'
'Look. We saved the fleet from destruction just a few days ago. Marianne
radioed and told you precisely where the rebel headquarters was and my brother
found out where all the other bases were and led you to them. Now, we keep a
twenty-four hour vigil here to ensure you are informed of any other
activities. Why does your Commander not trust us?'
'I wish I knew.'
She sighed. 'I won't object to your being here nor to your reporting in. I'll
even give you a copy of the print-out every day if that will make him feel any
better. It's just that I resent it when there is so much work to be done and
your people just sit there, out in the bay, watching us.'
'I think it is not so much you who is not to be trusted. The Admiral cannot
believe your equipment can do all the things you have said it will.'
'Well, you have watched us now for the last thirty-six hours, what conclusions
have you reached?'
'I'm not sure.' He looked at the lists of figures on the print-outs. 'It's all
mumbo-jumbo to me.'
'Then let me explain.' She turned to her colleague. 'Excuse me, Jim.'
Jim stood up and put his arm around Gillian who had seen it all before.
'Do you mind if we go down to the house?' he asked. 'I'm shattered.'
'Of course. Do you want to take the car?'
'Not likely, I'm alright on a straight road but that forest trail frightens me
to death even as a passenger. We'll go down on the ski-lift.'
'Can I make a suggestion?' Suzette asked the Major. 'Send Martin down with
them. He can take a portable radio with him to my villa and we will always be
in contact with each other.'
The Major thought for a moment then nodded and gave the order. The three of
them left, leaving Suzette alone with Al Slazinski and the pilot who was
resting in one of the bunks on the upper floor.
'Sit down here,' said Suzette, patting the swivel stool beside her. 'How much
do you know about computers?'
'Not a great deal. In my line, I don't come across them much except to control
weapons.'
'Okay, I'll explain.' She tucked loose strands of hair into her headband while
Al pretended not to look down the front of her blouse.
'On the roof is a scanner dish which receives signals from Princess. These
signals come from different kinds of sensors on board. First, there are the
air temperature probes on board the satellite. They scan the upper atmosphere
and send back data from three areas of Europe designated AX, BX and CX. These
signals, which the computer analyses, indicate weather patterns in France,
Britain and the surrounding areas. I was trained in Paris to interpret this
data. It is in French and so takes someone who is bilingual to sort it out
properly.'
'That was your job at Cambridge?'
'Precisely. Unfortunately for the Consortium I discovered, almost by accident,
that the satellite is capable of scanning other areas by means of heat-seeking
ground probes. They called it section DX.'
'Ground probes? You mean to scan the ground temperature?'
'That's right.'
He looked puzzled. 'What good would that do?'
'Not a lot by itself. However, by breaking into the software, I found out that
the main CADE programme filters the data by means of multiple FOR-IF-NEXT
loops.'
'What, in tarnation, are they?'
'Simply put, descramblers which could eliminate normal movements of vehicles
and personnel and isolate any abnormal activity.'
'But such movements will have been seen by spy satellites as well. Of what use
was this data?'
'Simple. Firstly, spy satellites are practically useless when it's cloudy
whereas Princess compensates for cloud layers by making comparisons with the
ambient temperature. Secondly Princess, being geostationary above the equator,
could watch for twenty-four-hours a day.'
'What area does this Princess scan?'
'The whole of Europe.'
'So you knew when the war started?'
'We even saw the lead-up and tried to warn the powers that be but they didn't
believe us any more than your people do now.'
'But it doesn't explain how you knew about the Russians. I think this is what
has the Commander worried.'
'It's because Princess also has probes that measure heat outputs in EX.'
He looked wary. 'Where is EX?'
'Below sea level. Even though your spy satellites could not see Malinov One
and Two below the water, Princess identified them immediately and traced their
progress through the Mediterranean. Before we went to the ball, I could see
Malinov One approaching from the South-East and Malinov Two slipping in from
the South and I wasn't sure what they would do. It was when Colonel Narovic
said there was only one submarine left after the exchange that I became
suspicious of their motives.'
'And you would really have blown us all up?'
'To prevent any further destruction of Europe? Of course.'
'But you would have died yourself.'
She shrugged. 'So? What does my life amount to compared with the future of
Europe?'
'You would have sacrificed yourself and your friends for such a principle?'
'Tell me. Are you married, Major?'
'Yes,' he replied, uncertain as to the implication of the question.
'And you have come half-way across the world, away from your wife and family,
to try to bring peace to Europe? Would you have been prepared to die in the
attempt to take the Consortium's headquarters at Mandagout if it had been
necessary?'
He drew his shoulders back proudly. 'Of course.'
'Then why do you doubt my motives? They are no different to your own. Nor any
better.'
'I think I begin to understand. You are not a rebel after all.'
She smiled. 'Oh, yes I am. For once, since the history of mankind, we have the
chance of unifying Europe, removing all the old boundaries and starting again
in peace.'
'A single Europe?'
'It has been the dream of politicians for years. Why can it not be so now? We
have a never-to-be-repeated opportunity we would be stupid to ignore. From the
ashes of Europe, a Phoenix must arise and I will live for that event.' She
looked him straight in the eye. 'Or die for it.'
~~~~~

PAWN TO KNIGHT THREE

FRIDAY 13th AUGUST - 2130 hrs.
A faint bleep came from the CX monitor as Suzette sipped her last cup of
coffee of the shift. Running her fingers swiftly over the keyboard, she nudged
the Major with her knee. He mumbled once, threw his legs from the desk-top and
was instantly wide awake.
Suzette grinned. 'Steady, Al. There's no emergency.'
'What is it?' he asked, rubbing his tired eyes.
'There is a plane approaching the west coast of Spain and I thought you might
like to inform the Admiral.'
'What kind of plane?'
'Sub-sonic. Looks like a transporter of some sort.'
'Can you tell?'
'Not with accuracy. It could just as well be a bomber.'
'A bomber?' He reached for the radio.
Suzette laughed. 'Relax. It's come across the Atlantic so it must be this
Senator of yours.'
'Could be.' He spoke into the radio. 'Laroque to Columbia, do you read? Over.'
'Columbia receiving, Major. Go ahead. Over.'
'Unidentified aircraft approaching from the west. Over.'
'Thank you, Laroque. Stand by for confirmation. Over.'
The radio was silent for several minutes.
'I hope you're right about this,' said the Major. 'I don't want to look a
monkey.'
Suzette said nothing but continued to watch the screens. BX also bleeped.
'Columbia to Laroque. Nothing on radar. Can you confirm exact position? Over.'
Al looked across at Suzette who handed him a piece of paper she had already
written upon. He glanced at the words and then back to her face. She shrugged.
He pressed the button. 'Laroque to Columbia. Position is eleven degrees west,
thirty-eight north and heading due east. Over.'
'Confirming. Stand by. Over.'
It was Commander Jakes' voice that was heard next as Suzette smiled smugly.
'Al. This is John. Are you sure about this?'
The Major looked at Suzette long and hard before answering. 'Position
confirmed, Commander. Probable transporter. Likely source USA. Over.'
'Thank you, Al. Stand by.'
The radio went dead and the silence seemed oppressive as the external
closed-circuit cameras showed the approach of darkness. A faint hum in the
distance disturbed it.
'What's that?' said the Major.
'Cable car,' replied the dark-haired girl, her face illuminated by the
screens. 'Jim and Gill coming to take over from us and have a private cuddle.'
On the closed-circuit screen, she saw the cable-car stop and the couple were
greeted by the helicopter pilot. Martin was with them and the four of them
walked towards the tracking station building in the semi-darkness.
The radio crackled again. 'Columbia to Laroque. Aircraft now on radar. Thanks
for the early-warning. Over and Out.'
Al Slazinski smiled and relaxed. 'You're good, you know that?'
'Of course,' Suzette teased. 'Are you coming down to the house?'
'I ought to stay.'
'Don't be ridiculous. You need a good night's rest and Martin and the pilot
can hold the fort here. We'll be in radio contact all the time.'
He hesitated and then picked up the radio. 'Laroque to Columbia. Over.'
'Columbia receiving. Over.'
'Request speak again with Commander Jakes. Over.'
After a brief delay, the familiar voice came over the air once more. 'Go
ahead, Al. Over.'
'Request permission to inspect the valley, leaving the pilot and corporal at
the station. Over.'
'Permission granted. Good work, Major. Over and Out.'
The arrivals filed in and took their positions. Suzette slipped her arm
through the Major's. 'Let's go and eat, Major. Goodnight, folks. See you in
the morning.'
'Bright and early, I hope,' muttered Jim. 'It gets boring up here after a
while.'
Suzette pointed to the screens. 'Keep your eye on the big fellow who's just
arrived. It's probably someone come to stake his claim in Europe.'
Jim sat down as Suzette smiled and dragged off Al into the cool, evening air.
 'Do we go down that contraption?' he asked, pointing to the cable-lift.
'Not likely,' said Suzette. 'I like my feet firmly on the ground.'
They stood for a moment beside the Cosworth and looked at the view all around.
To the South was Spain, dark and ominous to the far distance. To the east, the
coastline could just be seen where the paler sea met the tall cliffs of the
Côte-Vermeille. Westwards could be seen the tall peak of Canigou standing dark
against the remains of the sunset. Northwards was just darkness.
'It's odd,' said Suzette. 'I used to come up here in the holidays as a
teenager and that whole area would be a sea of lights. Perpignan, Carcasonne
and, in the far distance, Narbonne and Béziers. Now, it's all gone. All those
people, dead.'
The Major slipped his arm around her shoulders as she shivered slightly. 'You
did your best to warn them, Missy. You could have done no more.'
She slipped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. 'Hold
me.'
He did and it was not dreadfully unpleasant.
~~~~~
FRIDAY 13th AUGUST - 2200 hrs.
The headlights picked out the trees, looking eerie in the white light, as the
Cosworth bounced its way down the narrow road towards the villa. Not a word
had been said since leaving the tracking station - Suzette concentrating on
holding the car on the road - Al concentrating on Suzette concentrating on
holding the car on the road. The lights of the villa came into view below
them.
'That's odd,' said the Major suddenly.
Suzette braked to a standstill, all four wheels juddering against the anti
brake-lock system. 'What is?'
He raised his thumb. 'That notice back there.'
Suzette glanced at him in the light from the dashboard and then reversed
slowly up the trail.
'NE-JETTEZ-PAS PIERRE,' proudly displayed the sign.
'Now why in tarnation would anyone want to throw Peter off this mountain?'
Suzette roared with laughter. 'Pierre is not just the equivalent of Peter, it
also means rocks or stones. It warns people not to throw stones as there are
houses below.'
Al Slazinski joined in her laughter and it was a hysterical pair who
staggered, arm-in-arm, onto the patio.
'I heard you coming,' muttered the voice beside the pool. 'It's a good job we
haven't any neighbours.'
'Bon soir, Philippe. I brought the Major down for the night.'
'So I hear,' he sarcastically replied as he rose to his feet in front of them.
'I hope you enjoy your night of passion together.'
The slap sounded like a gunshot in the night-time stillness as the girl stood
glaring at the Frenchman. She raised her hand again but Philippe caught her
wrist and held it until the Major shuffled a little to remind them of his
presence. Philippe opened his hand and smiled.
'My apologies, Major. The mind plays tricks in the darkness.'
'I think it is to Miss Blackman that you owe an apology, boy.'
Philippe glanced briefly and, without comment, turned his back on them and
went into the villa.
'I'm sorry,' said Suzette, ashamed of the confrontation.
'Don't you go apologising, Miss. You go in and sleep. I'll stay out here where
it's cooler.'
'Will you be okay?' she said quietly, turning to face him.
'After a week on Columbia? Anywhere on terra firma is paradise after that.'
She stood very close and had to stand on tip-toe to kiss his cheek. 'Mrs
Slazinski is one very lucky lady,' she said almost sadly.
Al watched as the young woman, who reminded him very much of his Bettina of
ten years ago, disappeared into the darkness that was her villa. Laying his
automatic rifle against the side wall, he lay back against the low parapet,
deep in the thoughts which bombarded his brain from all directions. There was
a slight discolouration in the eastern sky before he finally got to sleep.
~~~~~
SATURDAY 14th AUGUST - 0900 hrs.
When the Major awoke, he found himself surrounded by men in combat dress. He
reached out and found that his rifle was still where he had left it. One of
the men smiled.
'Good morning, Major,' greeted Roger. 'You remember Carlos and Manuel who
helped us at Mandagout?'
Al clambered to his feet and his heart rate began to return to normal. For a
minute, he had thought...
'Hi, Fellahs,' he greeted. 'You just got here?'
'Last night, Señor. With men from Perpignan.'
'How many are you?'
'Twenty-five,' said Manuel proudly. 'We are the Army of Free Europe.'
'Now wait a minute. You can't go around forming armies of your own.'
'Why not?' said Roger. 'There is no other kind any more. Someone has to see
that any people who are left are helped and regrouped.'
'But that is why the UN Task Force is here.'
'Then we will welcome its help, Major. I'm sure we will be able to work
together. After all, we are no longer at war.'
'Est-ce-que vous-prenez le petit déjeuner?' asked Marianne as she stepped onto
the patio, dressed in denims and tee-shirt, a tray in her hands.
The Major looked confused, due to his limited French, until he saw the
contents of the tray she had brought and then smiled and nodded. Marianne put
down it down and then held Roger's hand as Al tucked in to coffee and
croissants.
'Good morning, gentlemen,' greeted the cheerful Suzette as she approached,
looking radiant in the sunshine.
Major Al Slazinski, veteran of Vietnam and Iraq, who thought he had seen
everything, did a double-take to make sure his imagination had not gotten the
better of him. He compared dress, shape and stature in the way an expert would
and had to admit that, except for the hair and eyes, Suzette and Marianne were
like identical twins. All they needed to complement their denims and
tee-shirts were sun-glasses to cover their eyes and kiss-me-quick hats to hide
their hair colouring and he would have been hard-pressed to tell them apart
despite the four-year age difference.
'C'est bon?' asked the younger one.
'Are you enjoying your breakfast?' clarified the other.
'Yes,' he said slowly and deliberately. 'Thanks.'
'You'll be glad to know that your Senator arrived safely. They couldn't land
at Perpignan because of the short runway and so diverted to Narbonne where a
helicopter has just picked him up with his entourage.'
'Has Columbia radioed in?'
'No, Martin just called me from the station. Jim tracked them in with
Princess.'
The Major rolled to his feet, passing the empty tray back to Marianne with a
nod. 'He will want to meet you, I expect.'
'Why?'
'Well...I don't know. The survivors, I guess.'
'There may be others, you know. If the UN really wants to help, it must set up
relief points to assist the wounded and bury the dead. There will be a great
number of them, I'm afraid.'
'I reckon so. I'd better get back to the 'copter in case they call.'
'Okay. Marianne and I will take you up.' She turned to her brother. 'Have you
seen Philippe?'
'He's about somewhere, looking miserable for some reason.'
'He'll snap out of it. Will you be all right here while we go up?'
'Of course. We'll wait to hear from you before we do anything.' Roger kissed
her cheek and whispered; 'Be careful, little sister.'
'Aren't I always?' She winked cheekily.
Marianne also kissed him briefly and Al climbed in behind his "twins" as
Suzette started the sixteen-valve Cosworth engine and locked her full-harness
seat belt. With a wave, Suzette rolled out of the driveway, between the
now-stationary trucks and onto the narrow track leading to Pic Neulos. Yet
again, the sun was warm and the relative coolness at three-thousand feet was
refreshing as Suzette sat, her arm on the edge of the open window, her dark
hair streaming out behind her. Gillian came out to meet them as they arrived
and smiled at the Major.
'Commander Jakes has just been on the radio, Al. He asks that you get back to
him immediately,'
'Thanks.' He smiled to the shorter, but better-developed girl and stepped
inside and reached for the radio, nodding a greeting to Jim and his own men.
'Laroque to Columbia,' he said into the microphone. 'Do you read? Over.'
'Columbia receiving, Major. Hold on, I have the Commander for you. Over.'
They all waited in silence for some moments while Suzette looked at the
print-outs with Jim before he left with Gillian towards the ski-lift which
would take them down the mountain.
'Al, this is John Jakes,' spoke the radio after some delay. 'Are you alone?
Over.'
The Major looked around the room at the faces, all suddenly turned towards
him. 'Negative. Over.'
'Then you must follow plan C. Do you understand? Over.'
Major Slazinski looked almost ill as he felt an icy hand crawl up his spine.
The other soldiers recognised the look on his face and stood expectantly.
He looked at Suzette.'Would you repeat the order, sir? Over.'
'I repeat. We have received orders direct from the Pentagon and you must
action plan C immediately. Do you read? Over.'
'Affirmative, Commander. Plan C. Laroque Out.' He put down the handset and
stood for several moments without speaking.
Suzette walked over and touched his arm gently. 'Al, what is it? What is plan
C?'
'My instructions are to take you back to Columbia.'
'What? All of us?'
'There is a force on its way over to collect the others. I regret I must
detain you here until they arrive.' He looked down. 'I'm sorry.'
Suzette held her head up high and stepped over to the walkie-talkie set. The
click as Corporal Fisher removed the safety-catch from his automatic rifle was
unnaturally loud in the confined space of the control room.
Suzette hesitated and the slowly turned to face the soldier. 'Are you going to
shoot me, Martin?'
He lowered the gun. 'No, Miss Blackman.'
'Come in, Roger,' she said into the mouthpiece.
'I'm here, Suzette. Go ahead.'
'It's time to go. Do it quickly.'
'Where shall we wait for you?'
'Go to...' Suzette looked at the Major. 'Go to the hideout.'
'The hideout?'
'Yes, you know, the French one. Go quickly, my brother.' She switched off the
walkie-talkie. 'Thank you,' she said to the Major. 'Why are they doing this?'
'I don't know. I honestly don't know.'
'What if we were to walk out, now?'
'I would have to stop you. I have no choice.'
'Yes, you have. Come with us.'
'And desert from my duty? You know I can't do that.'
'Then it seems I have no choice either,' she said, walking over to the console
and repeatedly pressing several keys. The disc drive whirred and the screen
began to flash. The red light by the door duplicated the action as did the
high-pitched horn in the entrance-way.
'What have you done?' Al whispered.
'Started the self-destruct sequence.'
'What? You fool. You crazy little fool.'
'Do you really think so? If you think I'm going to allow Princess to fall into
the hands of NATO so they can use it against the Russians or anyone else,
think again. The Russians were crafty but at least they were only after
peace.'
'What are you going to do?'
'Nothing. In a few minutes, there will be nothing left to do. The
thermonuclear device in the console will detonate and we will all...
disappear, along with most of this mountain and the whole of your fleet. By
then, my brother and his men will be in the clear.'
The Major and his two men stared at the screen and watched the numbers running
steadily down towards zero. They turned at the sound of the car which roared
into life as Suzette applied power to the wheels, sending up a huge cloud of
dust as the car spun on its own axis. Suzette fought with the controls as all
four wheels began to grip and they felt the surge forward as the turbo dropped
in. They were doing ninety before they reached the tarmac road which led
through the trees just as a helicopter from USS Omaha hovered overhead between
the trees. Another blocked the track down to the villa while a third buzzed
around like a giant spider, greedy for an insect caught in its web.
'Hold tight,' Suzette shouted above the noise of the engine and threw the
Cosworth into a sideways skid which took them very close to the edge of the
mountain. Stones clattered down into the valley far below as the wheels caught
again and she turned the car into the trees. Marianne instinctively threw her
arms in front of her face as branches thudded against the windscreen while
they plunged headlong down the steep slope, missing tall firs by inches,
flattening bushes and shrubs in their path.
The car brought up with a bang at the bottom which blasted the wind out of
both of them as the dust settled around them.
'Are you all right?' Suzette asked.
'Oui,' Marianne nodded, her eyes still closed as she held her trembling hands
on the dashboard.
'Listen,' said Suzette, holding her head up and carefully opening the window
to hear better.
The thwack-thwack of the rotors sounded almost overhead as they sat in the car
on the edge of the ridge, straining to tell the exact direction.
'Get out of the car,' came the amplified voice from above. 'Step away from it
with your hands in the air.'
'Can they see us?' asked Marianne.
'I doubt it,' replied Suzette. 'Not in this part of the forest. They're
bluffing.'
'What are you going to do?'
'Sit it out for a minute. How much time is left?'
She looked at her watch. 'Two minutes.'
Suzette thought for a moment as a pair of the helicopters hovered around,
searching for them, issuing threats for non-compliance. Suddenly, there was
the sound of rapid gunfire and bees buzzed and pinged through the trees not
far away. Marianne grabbed Suzette's arm.
Suzette smiled. 'Don't worry. They're just trying to frighten us.'
'They're succeeding,' said Marianne with a slight tremor in her voice.
'Give me the cylinder,' said Suzette whereupon Marianne took the six-inch long
detonator and timer mechanism her cousin had removed from the console and
handed it across. Suzette held it carefully in her left hand while she turned
the knurled knob on the end. She looked at Marianne before looking upwards.
'Be careful. And wait till I sound the horn.'
Marianne nodded and opened the car door quietly and stepped out onto the soft
pine needles. Very carefully, she sidestepped towards the cliff alongside
which the helicopter hovered, carrying her precious cargo as if it was made of
glass. Suzette stared at the face of her digital watch as the numbers counted
down. At five, she touched the horn and started the engine. Marianne bent her
arm low and the ex High-School Lacrosse-Team Captain tossed the live detonator
high into the air and threw herself onto the ground as Suzette slewed the car
around to give the young girl some protection.
There was a noise like a thunderclap and the helicopter accelerated
frantically as the pilot fought to control his machine and the men inside
reeled from the unexpected percussion of the exploding detonator. Around and
around it spun until the tail rotor caught on a tree and the gunship was
brought down to earth with a crash which seemed to shake the whole forest.
'Let's go! shouted Suzette as Marianne threw herself back into the car which
was already rolling onto the road.
The Cosworth took the Col de L'Ouillat broadside on and plunged down the
winding track towards the tiny hamlet of St Jean. Once through the narrow
farmyard, Suzette hauled the wheel to the right and headed down the
near-vertical sheep trail towards the Chapelle St Christophe. She hoped the
explosion would give them the vital seconds they needed to escape. It would
have done no-one any real harm, she knew, but it proved that the Army for Free
Europe had teeth and, when provoked, could bite back.
~~~~~
SATURDAY 14th AUGUST - 1100 hrs.
The two girls lay on the grass in the shade of the trees until the sounds
finally deteriorated and then were gone.
'How did you know?' asked Marianne.
'A lot of little things. The Admiral's secrecy, the Lieutenant with his gun,
the warning from Colonel Narovic. It all makes sense now.'
'How long do we wait here?' asked Marianne.
'Until dark. With luck, they might think we went straight on down into Le
Perthus. No-one in their right mind would attempt to drive down this road.'
'You can say that again,' said Marianne with a nervous giggle. 'We must be
crazy, Suzette.'
'Not if it gives the others time to make a break for it. I bet Al is hopping
mad right now.'
'Better than being spread all over the hillside like he thought he was going
to be.'
'Poor Al. And just when I was beginning to like him.'
'Do you think the Americans will go through with their plan?'
'Of course they will. They are so greedy, some of them. They will never be
able to miss an opportunity like this to gain control of Europe.'
'What can we do?'
'Stop them, of course.'
'You mean take on the whole of the United States of America?'
'If necessary, yes.'
'Good grief, Suzette. Do you know what you are suggesting?'
'Of course. But remember. We have someone on our side that they don't.'
'And who's that?'
'Princess.'
~~~~~


BISHOP TO ROOK THREE

SATURDAY 14th AUGUST - 2300 hrs.
There was no moon as the car rolled slowly down the hillside, the only sound
that of the tyres on the narrow, gravel track. Clear of the trees, the dark
shapes along the way looked ominous and eerie as they entered the narrow gorge
below Roc del Grèvol. The sides of the valley seemed to press in on them, only
the absence of stars to indicate where sky ended and cliffs started. A brief
glitter showed them where the stream was that crossed the track and the car
slowed as it rolled up the far bank. Just before it stopped, Suzette selected
third gear and turned on the ignition. The engine sprang to life and hummed
silently in that sheltered defile. Slowly, the car inched forwards up the far
gradient until the track turned east again above Montesquieu. Suzette turned
off the engine and let the car roll down the slope until they crossed the
stream again and repeated the performance with the bump-start.
'Why are we going so carefully?' asked Marianne.
'Because they'll be listening for us and they have some pretty sophisticated
devices nowadays. I'm hoping the tickover will not be picked up, whereas the
sound of a Ford starter motor can be heard from miles away.'
The car climbed over the col and the Tech valley below them looked
oppressively dark and ominous, like a bottomless black pit devoid of lights
from houses and streets. Suzette turned off the engine and rolled silently
down into the outskirts of Villeongue-dels-Monts. Carefully negotiating around
the abandoned cars and trucks, they arrived in the market square and turned
right onto the road which proudly displayed the number D11. After five
kilometres, they stopped outside a wayside restaurant. Marianne climbed out of
the car, closing the door softly behind her, and carefully tiptoed to the
house. Opening the front door and creeping upstairs, she then went into the
front bedroom and approached the bed where, cupping her hand over the man's
face, she gently shook him awake.
'Papa. C'est moi,' she whispered and the wide-awake eyes watched her.
'Qu'est-ce-qu'il-y-a?' he whispered.
'We must leave,' she replied in French. 'We are in very great danger.'
'Where is Roger?'
'He has gone ahead. We will meet him later.'
'Suzette?'
'Waiting in the car. Please get dressed as quickly as you can.'
'Can I turn the light on?'
'No. They are watching. I am going to get some food from the kitchen. Just
bring a few things with you. I don't know how long we will be away.'
'Can't I stay here?'
'No. They will find you and use you against us.'
'Who is they? I thought the rebels had been caught.'
'We are the rebels now, father. The ones chasing us are the kind of people the
Consortium hated. Perhaps we have taken the wrong side, after all.'
'We were not wrong in the war, ma cherie. When we fought the Bosch.'
'It is not the Germans this time. It is the Americans.'
'The Americans? But they are our allies.'
'Until they saw profit and power. Alors, at that point, their eyes turned to
cash registers.'
'Where are we going?'
'I don't know yet. We must get as far from here as possible before daylight.'
'Very well. Go and get what food we need. I will be down in a few moments.'
Marianne tiptoed back downstairs and filled a couple of bags with as much
high-protein food as she could carry and put them in the boot of the car.
Suzette sat hunched over her Carte Topographique with a tiny, well-shielded
pen-torch in her hand. She smiled at her uncle as he got in the back and
kissed his cheek without comment. Marianne climbed in and they took their last
look at Laroque des Albères before setting off towards La Catalane and
freedom.
THEY came unstuck at Le Boulou. Whether they had been heard or the helicopter
had simply been assigned to block that particular escape route, they never
knew. Suddenly, as they approached toll-booths on the approach to the
Autoroute slip road, they were bathed in brilliant white light and totally
blinded.
'Get out of the car,' said the loud hailer.
'What shall we do?' asked Marianne.
Suzette sat, staring out of the windscreen, her hands white on the padded
leather steering wheel. Deftly, she slammed the car into reverse and shot
backwards, away from the lights. A hundred yards back, the car stopped and
Suzette fumbled with the dashboard which sprung open.
'Can you use this?' she asked, holding up a revolver.
'I don't know,' said Marianne, scared to touch it. 'Where did you get it?'
'Philippe took it from Louis at Rouen and put it in the dashboard out of the
way. It's been there ever since.'
'But I've never used one.'
'Nor have I.'
'I have,' said the voice from the back seat and the gnarled hand grasped the
revolver and checked the chamber.
'Papa!' said Marianne.
'The war, my child. One does not forget some things.' He looked at Suzette's
reflection in the mirror. 'Which ones shall I kill?'
'None of them. We don't want to start another war. Can you just hit the
light?'
'Not from here, ma nièce. From closer, perhaps. My aim is not what it was.'
Suzette pushed a button above her head and the sunroof rolled open. Raoul de
Bosvile smiled and poked head and gun arm through as Suzette put the car into
gear.
'Ready?'
'Allez, m'enfant,' said the older man.
Suzette's left index finger touched a switch and eight hundred watts of Cibié
lit up the night as her foot hit the pedal and fuel was forced under high
pressure into the injectors.
'Stop!' commanded the loud hailer.
'Roaoaoaoar!' yelled the engine.
'Screech!' screamed the tyres.
'Vive La France!' shouted Marianne.
'Bang!' spoke the gun.
'Smash!' went the floodlight.
'Look-out!' warned the pilot.
'Sonofabitch!' swore the Sergeant.
'Yippee!' exclaimed Suzette.
'Vrooom!' added the turbo-charger.
'After them!' ordered the Captain.
Suzette hauled the wheel over and they were on the slip road.
The Autoroute was littered with vehicles. Some were just parked, others up
against barriers and arnco. Instead of driving a real car along a real road,
Suzette felt as though she was operating one of those sophisticated computer
games where a car is "driven" at ultra high speed along a race track littered
with obstacles. Flat out, the car swerved violently from side to side as
Suzette struggled to avoid the vehicles that had been crashed or abandoned
when the missiles had struck. Raoul lay on the floor, the only way to avoid
being pummelled to pieces against the sides of the car. Marianne, unable to
join him because of the restricting seat belt, hung on for dear life as her
cousin flew through narrow gaps and around vehicles at a hundred and eighty
kilometres per hour.
'They're with us,' came the voice from the back seat and Suzette looked in the
mirror to where the dark shape and navigation lights of the helicopter gunship
showed clearly against the starry background.
'Can we hold them off?' asked Marianne.
'Not a chance,' said Suzette grimly. 'They can cut corners.'
'What are we going to do?'
'Confuse them,' she said, standing on the brake pedal and switching off the
lights. Narrowly missing a smashed-up Citroen, Suzette hurled the skidding
Cosworth between two tall lorries, almost burying the bonnet of her car under
the side of one of them. There was sudden quiet as the sound of the rotors
receded and then faltered as the helicopter began to turn to come back to look
for them - a small spotlight weaving about, searching.
'If they find us, you may have to shoot,' said Suzette sadly. 'Try to hit the
engine or something vital which will force them to land.'
'I'll try,' said Raoul, standing up and leaning his elbows on the car roof.
The helicopter seemed to circle endlessly as it searched among the cars
littering the Autoroute. Handicapped without its big spotlight, it took a long
time to reach them and hover overhead. She started the engine quietly.
'Now!' whispered Suzette and the report seemed deafening as her uncle fired.
The tyres screamed as Suzette shot the car backwards out of the gap and then
roared along the hard shoulder without lights. Marianne closed her eyes.
'They're still with us,' said Raoul, peering out of the sun roof. 'I must have
missed.'
'Never mind, you tried and I'll bet it scared the pants off them.'
Marianne suddenly grabbed Suzette's arm.
'Suzette,' she screamed. 'The power cables.'
The car swerved sideways between a car and the barrier and then plunged off
the road as the cables which hung from the tilted pylon scraped the roof and
side of the car. Just missing a lonesome tree, Suzette fought to prevent the
car turning over and, eventually, it came to a standstill with the front
wheels in a small stream. Dazed, Suzette opened the car door and rolled out
onto the damp grass.
'The helicopter,' Marianne called.
Suzette jumped to her feet and waved her arms madly.
'Look out! The Pylons!' she cried, forgetting that the men inside could not
hear a word above the noise of the rotors and neither could they see her in
the darkness. A rotor snagged the tall pylon and the engine hesitated as the
pilot tried to regain control. Sparks sprayed along the side of the fuselage
as pieces of the broken cables thrashed around, trapped by the central boss
about which they had become entangled. It looked, for a moment, as if the
pilot would manage to land on the road but, suddenly, there was a whoosh and
the helicopter, pylon, road and abandoned vehicles burst into flames.
'I must have hit the fuel tank,' muttered Raoul as the wreckage dropped,
almost gently, onto the top of a van and then exploded like a bomb. Pieces of
metal landed around them as they lay on the ground, their hands over their
heads.
'Good grief,' said Marianne as she sat up.
Suzette was crying. 'I didn't want this to happen. I really didn't. Those poor
men.'
'Suzette,' scolded Marianne. 'They were trying to kill us. Remember?.'
'But they were only doing their duty. Why did all this have to happen?'
'None of this is your fault,' soothed the younger girl, her arms around her
cousin. 'It was the greed of others that killed them.'
'Marianne is right,' added her father. 'You cannot hold yourself responsible
for their deaths.'
'But if I had stopped, they would still be alive.'
'But we might not have been. Then what good would we be to Europe?'
'We must leave,' said Raoul decisively. 'They will have been in radio contact
with the aircraft carrier. Others will come searching and daylight will be
here soon.'
'I guess you're right,' Suzette murmured. 'But I must see if anyone is alive.'
'A waste of time, Suzette. We must go.'
'Not until I've checked.'
'Stop!' said Marianne, grabbing her arm. 'You get the car back onto the road.
Father and I will take a look.'
Suzette nodded and got into the car as the father and daughter scrambled up
the grassy slope onto the road. The fire was almost out and pieces of wreckage
lay smouldering everywhere. They heard Suzette start the car and slowly
reverse up the bank. They also heard a groan.
'Papa!' called Marianne, crouching beside a still form. 'He's hurt bad.'
The soldier looked no more than a youth as he lay where he had been thrown
from the helicopter before it exploded, his arm at a strange angle and a pool
of blood beneath his head.
'We daren't move him,' warned Raoul.
'But we can't leave him here,' countered his daughter, going to fetch a
blanket from the car. 'It might be hours before he is found and he needs
medical attention immediately.'
'Then leave him for the others when they come. They will look after him better
than we can.'
The soldier groaned and opened his eyes.
'Where am I?' he said as Suzette stepped from the car.
'In France,' she clarified softly. 'Lay still, you've been hurt.'
'Am I in heaven?' he asked, gazing into the young girl's eyes that reflected
the light from the moon which now hung low over the Mediterranean.
'No,' she smiled. 'You're not dead yet.'
'We were chasing terrorists,' he suddenly remembered as he tried to sit up.
'They mustn't get away, they have the bomb.'
Suzette and her uncle looked at each other.
'They plan to destroy the fleet and we must stop them.' He looked from face to
face. 'Will you help me?'
The soft footfall made his head turn as Marianne re-approached, her white
tee-shirt appearing to glow in the soft moonlight.
'Now I know that I am in heaven,' he said, his eyes wide open.
'You tried to kill us,' Suzette said matter-of-factly.
'Kill you?' He shook his head. 'No, not you. The terrorists.'
She knelt beside him and placed her rolled up coat under his neck.
'We are the terrorists,' she said softly.
'No, you can't be. You're...' He looked from Marianne to Suzette.
'Yes?'
'Beautiful.'
Suzette laughed. 'You must have brain damage. Let's get you somewhere safe.'
'We can't move him,' said Raoul. 'It could kill him.'
'What can we do? We can't leave him here.'
'That's what I said,' added Marianne.
'The radio,' said Suzette and rushed to the car and returned carrying Al
Slazinski's walkie-talkie. She pushed the button. 'Calling Columbia. Do you
read? Over.'
There was brief silence before the voice came. 'Columbia receiving. Who is
this, please? Over.'
Suzette looked at Marianne. 'This is Suzette Blackman of the Free European
Army. We have a wounded prisoner. Over.'
'Would you repeat? Over.'
'Quit stalling, Columbia. Get me Admiral Davison. Over.'
'But he cannot be disturbed. Over.'
'Then he is not the man I thought he was. Over.'
A second later, a familiar voice came over the air. 'Michael Davison here,
Miss Blackman. Go ahead. Over.'
'I am on the Autoroute west of Perpignan, Admiral. One of your helicopters
came down when it hit a pylon. There is one survivor who needs urgent medical
attention. Over.'
'Why are you telling me this? Over.'
'Because I wish for no-one else to die. We came in peace to help you and
believed your people also came with a similar motive. It appears we were wrong
and I hope all who are listening in...'
A loud hiss came from the receiver and Suzette looked puzzled.
'They're jamming you,' clarified the soldier simply. 'They don't want the
others to hear. You'd better go.'
'And leave you?'
'You must. When we got the order, our Captain said there was something fishy
going on and it looks like he was right. Go quickly, before they catch you.'
Suzette touched his face gently, covered him with the blanket and kissed his
cheek. 'Good luck, soldier.'
'Good luck to you,' he said. 'And thanks.'
Raoul stepped from the car, the gun in his hand and, approaching the wounded
man, he knelt beside him.
'Take this,' he said. 'When your friends come, you will be able to attract
their attention with it.'
The soldier held the pistol in his hand. 'You are very trusting.'
'We are not terrorists,' said Suzette. 'We are normal people like you who only
want to live in peace. Tell Al Slazinski I'm sorry.'
'Al? You know Al?'
'Al was... is a friend. Give him a message. Tell him "ne-jettez-pas pierre."
He'll understand.'
'Ne-jettez-pas pierre,' he repeated as the trio climbed into the car and drove
off into the night.
~~~~~




WHITE QUEEN MOVES

SUNDAY 15th AUGUST - 0500 hrs.
The sky began to brighten over Marseilles as the helicopter landed on the
level deck of USS Columbia. The burly statesman descended and, without a word,
stepped into the forecastle hatch.
'Take me to the Admiral immediately,' he said, staring down the look the
Military Policeman gave his associates.
'This way, Senator Pritchard.'
The boardroom was already fairly full and now seemed overcrowded as the five
newcomers filed into the room. The Senator ignored the greetings and went
straight to the Admiral.
'Well?' he asked without preamble.
'They got away,' replied Admiral Davison.
'What? How could they do that? What kind of an outfit are you running here,
Admiral?'
'A peaceful one, Senator. At least, that's how it started out.'
'Well, things have changed.'
'So I see.'
'Where is this Free European Army or whatever it is they're calling
themselves?'
'Most of them seem to be in several trucks, moving North-East. The others, we
lost close to Perpignan.'
'I thought you were supposed to be watching them closely.'
'We were, but they brought down two of the helicopters that were sent out to
pick them up and by the time we had regrouped, they went to earth.' He pointed
at the map of Southern France. 'Somewhere here.'
'That's one hell of a big area.'
'But there are only a handful of them. What's this all about, Mr Pritchard?'
'Can't you guess? We must ensure that the reds don't crowd into Europe now the
way is open for them. The only way to do that is to secure the place
ourselves.'
'What does the Security Council of the United Nations say about this?'
'The Security Council doesn't know about it yet. By the time they find out,
it'll be too late.'
'But surely the Russians will tell them. They, too, have legitimate interests
in the matter.'
'Not yet, they won't. Communications are not good enough. What happened to the
two Russian submarines that were here?'
'They slipped away during the night. I think they guessed what was going
down.'
'You fool. You should have stopped them. Where are they now?'
'I don't know. They went out of Sonar range very quickly. Those Malinov series
subs sure can move.'
'Then we must find them, at all costs.'
'How do we do that?'
'We use this tracking station I've heard so much about.'
'At Laroque? But the system's all computerised and linked to a geostationary
satellite.'
'Why do you think I've brought along my own experts? We'll soon find them,
wherever they are - the Rebels, too.'
'Why are we after those people?' asked Commander Jakes.
'You just stick to your orders, Commander. I hear it was one of your men who
let some of the rebels get away.'
'It was hardly like that, Senator. It is two young women we're talking about,
not Ché Guevara.'
The Senator smirked. 'Don't tell me you've been taken in by all this female
innocence, Commander.'
'Not at all. However, Miss Blackman did radio in when she didn't have to. She
could have killed the wounded soldier or simply left him to die. Instead, she
risked capture by contacting us and giving away her position. That carries a
lot of weight with me.'
'Did you catch them?'
'No. By the time we got there, she had vanished.'
'Vanished? How far can you go on a freeway with few turnouts?' He slammed his
fist down onto the polished table. 'I want them caught and I want them caught
now.'
The room fell silent for a long time.
'It will soon be daylight,' said the Admiral eventually. 'We are bound to
catch them then.'
'Then make sure you do. The President cannot afford to have a bunch of
do-gooders jumping about all over Europe. There is too much at stake.'
~~~~~
SUNDAY 15th AUGUST - 0600 hrs.
The White Cosworth climbed the steep hill through St Etienne de Gourgas as the
first light from the sun cleared the top of the Montagne de la Séranne.
Relatively safe on the narrow road through the forest, Suzette kept the
pressure on as they headed north-east towards the rendezvous with her brother.
'We are not going to make it before sunrise,' she said sadly as she looked at
the lightening sky. 'We still have over twenty kilometres to go.'
'Then we must find somewhere to hide until tonight,' said Raoul.
'But where? At the top of this valley, we run out of the forest. After that,
we will be in the open right across the top of the Causse and are bound to be
seen. There will be nowhere to hide.'
'Let's take a look when we get to the top,' said Marianne. 'Maybe it will be
clear.'
As they reached the edge of the treeline, Suzette pulled her car in under the
trees and turned off the engine. The silence was almost eerie after the
continuous roar since leaving Perpignan. The ground was cold as the two girls
climbed among the rocks beside the road, eager for a view of what lay ahead.
The light was grey due to the thin, low cloud layer which covered the sky. In
patches, snow was evident. One of the results of the massive energy infusion
was a total disruption of normal weather patterns. Even though it was summer
time, many parts of the continent were deep in a Nuclear winter. Here, on the
dividing line between summer and winter, they shivered as they studied the sky
and the route ahead.
'Well, do we rest it out here or attempt to cross the plateau?'
'I'm for pressing on, Suzette. Let's get as far as we can.'
Suzette nodded her agreement and they slithered back to the car. She started
the engine. 'All right, Monsieur Cosworth. Let's see just how fast your car
can go.'
With a last look at the sky, she dropped the sunglasses over her eyes and put
her foot to the floor. The road was almost dead straight as it ran, totally
empty, across the frozen wastes of the Causse du Larzac. Through Mas de Bedos
they thundered and on between wind-blown shrubs leaning from the searing winds
that regularly howled over that lunar-type landscape. Under the low cloud, the
shapes looked even more eerie with a coating of snow to soften their shapes.
Two black tracks seemed to follow the car as it flashed across a land bare of
tall trees or cover of any sort. In places, drifting snow had filled in the
dips and the car smashed its way through it and up onto the next part of that
obscene switchback road. It was as they approached St Maurice that they heard
the sound.
'Aircraft,' shouted Marianne, leaning out of the window to try to get a better
notion as to the direction of the sound.
'Hold on,' called Suzette and slewed the car round into a deep drift, throwing
a great cloud of soft snow into the air as it hit.
Inside the car, it seemed dark as snow covered the windows, cold powder
bursting over Marianne's head and shoulders through the open window. She
squealed and closed it a little to prevent more blowing in. The ground
shuddered as the two sleek aircraft thundered overhead, the vibration coming
up through the wheels of the car.
'It's times like these,' said Suzette with a grin. 'That I'm glad I didn't buy
a red car.'
'Do you think they saw us?'
'I don't know. Listen, and see if they come back.'
Marianne opened the window as far as she dare and tried to peer out against
the drifting snow. Minutes later, two black shadows passed overhead, airbrakes
fully extended to reduce forward momentum to close to stall-speed, followed by
the roar of their twin F404 jetfan engines.
'They've found us,' said Marianne.
'But they can't land, not here.'
'What do we do?' asked Raoul.
'Watch,' said Suzette with a sly grin.
She slowly backed out of the drift, all four wheels alternately gripping and
slipping as she toyed with the limited slip differential. Clear of the snow,
she rocketed forward sending up a cloud of snow behind them. An explosion
rocked the car as one of the F-18s seemed to come right at them, dropping a
bright orange flare right in the path of the car. Suzette closed her eyes and
drove right over it, spinning it into the snowdrift.
'That was close,' sweated Marianne.
As fast as she dare, Suzette ploughed into St Maurice and swung the car into
the narrow market place, safe from all but a total bombardment of the village.
'We can't stay here. They are bound to radio our position to Columbia who will
send out helicopters.'
'Where can we go?'
'I don't know. It's only a kilometre or so to the Gorge de la Vis but, once in
there, we would be trapped as we would either have to go right down to Ganges
or back up onto the plateau. We have to lose them somewhere.'
'What about the Cirque?' offered Raoul.
'Again, we could be trapped.'
'On the other hand, it's the ideal place to get lost. Many of our friends hid
there during the war and were never found by the Germans. Also, a hole in the
ground is the last place they would expect us to go.'
'I think you have a point. Marianne, nip out and see if you can see the
planes.'
The younger girl jumped from the car and peered around the edge of the
farmhouse and then returned. 'I can hear them but not see them. The cloud has
come down too low.'
'Well. If we can't see them, they can't see us.'
With her heart in her mouth, she turned the car between two houses and out
onto the treacherous plateau of Dolmen. It was almost impossible to see the
course of the road, especially when it started to snow a few moments later.
Occasionally, the sound of aircraft was heard overhead and, once, Marianne was
certain she heard the unmistakable sound of rotors. Several times, the
Cosworth nearly left the road and gradually, the deep black rent in the
landscape that was the Gorge de la Vis crept up on their left hand side. Then,
as if on tiptoe, the car slithered around the U-bend below la Baume-Auriol and
plunged down the road towards the bottomless ravine.
Repeatedly, the wind tried to rip the car from the narrow ledge, hardly
noticeable along the sheer canyon side. Suzette dare not look beyond the low
stone wall, smashed through in places, the only thing that marked the edge of
the track and the only barrier between the car and a vertical fall of a
thousand feet. One mistake, one misjudgment on the sheet ice covered with
several inches of snow, and they would be falling. They would, however, fall
but for a few seconds until the car burst apart, scattering small pieces of
their bodies all over the valley floor.
'Helicopters,' whispered Raoul, his ear to the open window.
'I daren't stop now, the gradient is too steep and, if I touch the brakes,
we'll go over the edge. We must hope they cannot get below the cloud layer.'
The sound of rotors seemed to be all around them as they slithered down the
precipitous slope, hardly daring to breathe. Occasionally, they saw dark
shapes in the clouds but, as the river came into sight below them, the snow
began to fall heavily and they were invisible once more. Eventually, they
reached the bottom and felt hemmed-in by the cliffs of Jurassic Limestone
surrounding them, imprisoning them in a cold, white dungeon deep in the
ground. Suzette parked under the trees beside the river and they watched the
waters of the Vis pouring over the waterfall beneath the stone houses built
into the very surface of the overhanging cliff.
'I'm cold,' said Marianne.
'We must get inside,' said Raoul decisively. 'Follow me.'
The older man opened the door and skated over to the now-disused café and
pushed open the glass door. It was cold and dank but he soon had a fire going
in the grate as the girls huddled around it for warmth. They ate a meal of
goat's cheese and breadsticks before exploring the house, returning with
warmer clothing.
'Where is everyone?' Marianne asked.
'Why, dead of course,' assured her father.
'But the bodies. Why are there no bodies?'
Suzette frowned. 'Marianne has a point. I saw no bodies, either. Where is
everyone?'
'We are here,' said the voice from the doorway.
Through from the kitchen had walked a tall, suntanned frenchman with a neat
moustache and dressed in outdoor clothes and rubber boots. What caught their
attention was neither the face nor the clothing but the loosely-held,
double-barrelled shotgun he held in his strong hands. Two other men came in.
One was a smaller man carrying a service revolver, the other with a
wicked-looking machete which looked capable of splitting them down the middle.
'Who are you, pretty lady?' the youth said, holding the blade close to
Marianne's face.
'We are from Laroque des Albères, father and I,' she replied with a tremor in
her voice. 'My cousin is from England.'
'Angleterre?' said the tall one, crossing to Suzette. 'Why did you come here?'
'Do you mean here, to Navacelles, or here, to France?'
'Don't play coy with me, girl,' he threatened. 'What do you know of all this?'
'If you put the weapons down, we will explain. We are not armed and are loyal
to France.'
'Very well,' he gestured. 'Sit where we can keep an eye on you and tell us
what you know.'
Between them, they explained all. Suzette started with the first attempts on
her life in Cambridge and Paris, with Marianne continuing with the takeover of
the tracking station. Raoul completed the last few hours.
'So, the Americans finally showed their true colours,' he said. 'You should
know that we are members of the French Communist Party and we are very
interested to hear of your meeting with the Russians. Perhaps they will help
us to set up real government in France, one which understands the needs of the
people.'
'What France needs, first of all, is a way of caring for the wounded, setting
up communications again, providing for the homeless.'
'No. Those things can come when we have re-established government, when the
power is in the hands of the people.'
'Monsieur,' said Suzette kindly. 'I understand your feelings. However, for the
time being, we must all work together if we are to survive at all. For the
sake of Europe, we would gladly work with anyone to put things back on their
feet. We can debate over leadership at a later date.'
'Where will your brother be now?'
'Not far from here. We have arranged to meet in a place only we know of. I
would be happy to take you there, too. Together, we would make a good team.'
'I don't know,' he said, pacing the floor while the other two men watched the
trio closely.
'What do you have to lose?' ventured Raoul. 'We worked together to fight the
Bosch. Can we not do it again?'
'I agree on one condition,' he eventually offered. 'You stay here where Marcel
can keep an eye on you and Ramon and I will attend to the girls.' He looked
straight at Suzette. 'Be warned, Ramon is a killer. If there is any funny
business, he will not hesitate to cut you to pieces.'
Ramon smiled through broken teeth and Marianne looked from the cruel eyes to
the already-bloodstained machete and knew in her heart that the man meant
precisely what he said.
~~~~~




ENTER THE BLACK KNIGHT

SUNDAY 15th AUGUST - 1200 hrs.
Senator William Pritchard paced the floor of the tracking station at Laroque
des Albères, impatient at the delay.
'What's the problem?' he eventually asked, venting his frustration on the
leading data analyst.
'It's not easy. When the self-destruct sequence is initiated, it dumps all the
data. Naturally, it doesn't expect to be used again.'
'But you've been at it for hours,' he yelled, totally frustrated.
'I know. All the data needs to be fed in again before the CADE programme can
analyse it.'
'But you've hardly typed any information in.'
'We don't need to. The satellite is set to scan each section in sequence and
then move on to the next. It takes approximately two minutes to scan each part
so that's almost ten minutes to gather all the initial information.'
'Then why the delay?'
'Because that raw data is useless for the computer. It needs more to go on.
For instance, within the first twenty minutes, I knew the sun was shining.'
The politician put his hand to his forehead. 'I could have told you that by
looking out of the doorway.'
The analyst ignored his cynicism. 'I also knew that it was snowing in the
Massif Central.'
'So did I. Blue squadron radioed that information in when they lost the car.'
'Once that initial data is placed in the databank, the computer compares that
data with the incoming information from DX.'
'DX?'
'The ground probes. The ground will be at a different temperature here than in
the Cévennes. The computer needs a reference point to work around, to make
comparisons with. By comparing the heat outputs with the ambient temperature
in each area, the computer then comes up with a fix for any unusual
variations. Even using all this,' he said, indicating the vast array of
hardware; 'It takes time. The first results are just coming in now.'
They looked at the DX screen which flashed and then the printer started to
click away.
The computer man smiled and indicated. 'We have a group of heat emissions
here.'
'Where's here?'
'Between Nîmes and Alès.'
The Senator looked puzzled. 'What are they doing there? Blue leader reported
seeing them to the north-east of Lodève.'
'Then they must have split up.' He looked at the screens. 'There is no heat
emission near Lodève.'
'Then where are they?'
'I don't know. Until they move, we can only wait.'
'Then this equipment is useless.'
'Not entirely. We know where the others are.'
'So we do,' he smiled and picked up the microphone. 'Laroque to Columbia. Do
you read? Over.'
'Columbia receiving. Go ahead. Over.'
'Put me through to Commander Jakes. Over.'
There was a slight delay.
'John Jakes here, Mr Pritchard. Go ahead. Over.'
'I have the position of the trucks that got away. Over.'
'Very well. Go ahead. Over.'
Senator Pritchard relayed the information from the analyst and the Commander
thanked him.
'What is the weather doing at that point?' he then asked.
The Senator raised his eyebrow and the computer operator consulted the data.
'Slight cloud. Otherwise fine. Over.'
'Very well, Laroque. Red squadron will leave immediately. Over and Out.'
'Commander,' continued the Senator. 'Make sure you stop them this time. By
powers invested in me by the President, I instruct you to destroy those
trucks.'
'But that will mean killing French Nationals.'
'So be it, Commander. They started this.'
'With respect, Mr Pritchard. As UN representative, I must protest in the
strongest possible terms.'
'Protest noted, Commander. Now just go and do your job. I have my orders, you
have yours. Over and out.'
~~~~~
SUNDAY 15th AUGUST - 1220 hrs.
Red squadron crossed the coastline close to Aigues-Mortes where, eight
centuries earlier, the Crusaders had sailed to rescue Jerusalem from the
Scaracens with such gigantic loss of fanatical blood. Now, it seemed, history
was repeating itself.
'Red Leader to Columbia. Approaching Nîmes. Over.'
'Very well, Red Leader. You know what to do. Over.'
'Aye aye, Commander. Over and out.' He switched channels. 'Red leader to Red
squadron. Prepare to attack. There must be no survivors. Understood? Over.'
'Red One to Red Leader. Target radar on, dropping to attack speed. No
survivors, aye. Over.'
'Red Two to Red Leader. Target radar on, river in sight. No survivors, aye.
Over and Out.'
North of Nîmes, the three strike aircraft dropped into the wide Gard Valley
north of the gorges, their instructions quite clear.
~~~~~
SUZETTE looked out of the café window at the swirling snow and thought of what
they had to do. Somewhere to the east, Roger and Philippe would be
endeavouring to force their way through the snow to reach their secret
rendezvous.
'I think we should leave soon,' she suggested.
'Leave? In this weather?' asked the Communist leader. 'It is impossible to
climb the slope.'
'Not in my car.'
'Imbecile girl! Have you no sense at all? There are but two roads out of this
cursed hole in the ground. You came in one and the other goes up there.'
He pointed at the towering cliffs which encircled them, hemming them in on all
sides. Suzette knew that the road by which they had entered this natural abyss
was too steep to attempt in those conditions. Once, the River Vis had started
on the slopes of Montagne du Lingas and run southwards and then eastwards to
its confluence with the Hérault at Ganges. However, over the millennia of
time, the icy waters had channelled themselves deeper and deeper into the soft
limestone and had, eventually, gone underground at Vissec, only to re-emerge
less than a mile from where Suzette sat. Then, nature had continued her
sculpturing of the landscape by causing the river to deepen the gorge to such
an extent that virtually nothing but the waters filled the narrow, winding
canyon as far as Madières. At this point the road from Lodève descended, by
multiple hairpin bends, to the valley floor to follow the Vis to Ganges. Here,
in the Cirque, where the waters erupted from under a great overhang of rock,
the tiny village of Navacelles had been built. In winter, the gorge was often
flooded and no traffic moved in that part of the country so, to be sure of
escape, Suzette had to get her car up onto the plateau again to run the
gauntlet to the old market town of Le Vigan.
'I will make it,' she said firmly. 'I must make it.'
'Then I will come with you. Where a girl can go, so can a man.'
Marianne didn't know whether to admire his confidence or mock his stupidity.
Instead, she slipped on a borrowed coat and followed her cousin out into the
snow. Suzette opened the boot and produced four sacks. Stooping at each wheel,
she fastened on each tyre a strange device which resembled the clamps used by
traffic wardens in Paris.
'Ready?' she asked and Marianne climbed in followed by a less-enthusiastic
Georges, as they found he was called.
Ramon climbed into the other back seat as Marianne waved goodbye to her father
and the Cosworth slithered a little, gripped the ice and then rolled forward
along the narrow road which led in zig-zags straight up the cliff face.
~~~~~

SUNDAY 15th AUGUST - 1230 hrs.
'I have a movement,' spoke the operator at Laroque.
'Where?' asked the Senator with sudden interest and excitement.
He pointed at the screen. 'There. One vehicle. Moving west.'
'West?'
The operator shrugged. 'I only read the data.'
Senator Pritchard relayed the information to Columbia and the peaceful day was
disturbed by the sound of more screaming jet engines as the units of Green
Squadron were launched out over the still waters of the Mediterranean, their
orders also clear.
~~~~~
SUZETTE kept in second gear. At slow speed, the wheels didn't spin and the
snowgrips dug into the hard ice, forcing the car upward, out of that chasm of
black and white contrast. Round and round the bends they went. At each corner,
death threatened as the edge of the cliff loomed so dangerously close. This
was a road to avoid, even in summer.
Unfortunately, the higher they went, the tighter the bends were, the more
precipitous became the drop by their side. At fifteen-hundred feet, they went
into cloud and, inching forward, they skidded and slithered over the top of
the ridge and breathed again.
SUNDAY 15th AUGUST - 1240 hrs.
Commander Jakes sat in the control room aboard Columbia and monitored the
progress of his forces. The radio crackled. 'Red leader to Columbia. Over.'
'Go ahead, Red Leader.'
'We are now north of Alès. No sign of the trucks.'
'What?' He stood up. 'Are you sure?'
'Certain, sir. No visual sighting, nothing on radar.'
'Nothing at all?'
'Not a thing. Permission to retrace to Nîmes?'
'Permission granted. Over and Out.'
Commander Jakes slowly sat down again as the Admiral walked in with Senator
Pritchard who had returned to the UN Flagship. 'Progress, John?'
'No, sir. Red Squadron just reported in. There is no sign of the trucks where
they were sent to look.'
'What?' said the Senator. 'Are you sure?'
The Commander looked tired. He was also not happy. 'Squadron Leader Alexander
is the best, Senator. If he says they are not there, they are not there.'
The radio spoke again. 'Green Leader to Columbia. Approaching Ganges now.
Over.'
'Very well, Green Leader. You know what to do?'
'Aye aye, sir.'
Before the Commander could respond, the radio spoke again. 'Entering the gorge
now, Commander. Hello, that's odd. There's a lot of snow and low cloud here
and...'    The radio went dead.
SUNDAY 15th AUGUST - 1250 hrs.
Colonel Andrei Narovic smiled as he was handed a copy of the last
transmissions received.
'Blagodarnos,' he said and gave instructions as Malinov One slipped below the
blue waters once more.
~~~~~
THE three F-18s banked as they once more passed over the deserted city of
Nîmes, their wings glinting as they reflected the light from the blazing sun.
Forty kilometres to the West, the sun was not shining as Suzette drove her
Cosworth over the Col des Mourezes and dropped out of the low cloud, down
towards the Chateau at Mandagout. Along the side of the road were signs of
recent destruction. Burnt-out armoured personnel carriers, overturned trucks
and jeeps, blistered trees and buildings. The old chateau that once stood
proudly upon its lofty pinnacle now looked as though it had received a direct
hit from a very big bomb.
'Mon Dieu! What has happened here?' asked Georges.
'This is where the Consortium had their French headquarters. The UN task force
attacked by air and my brother came in by road and captured the village. It's
abandoned now, of course.'
'There's not much left, is there?' observed Marianne.
'Not here. Which way is the hideout from here?'
'Past the Hôtel de Ville, through the village and left at the road junction,'
Marianne instructed.
'Okay,' said Suzette, easing her car around the hairpin bend and across the
narrow stone bridge.
The valley was deep and the chestnut trees seemed to cover every slope that
was presently thick with snow. After a while, the Village
Hall-cum-School-cum-Library came into sight, now blackened by fire. A
half-mile further, the road turned right and then left past the now-ruined
church and down the slope towards the river. They sat in silence as Suzette
slithered her car round the bend alongside the place where children had once
played their happy, cheerful games and, a kilometre further, the hideout came
into sight. Clinging to the wall of the valley, they turned and crossed the
narrow bridge and into the courtyard of the apparently undamaged place of
rendezvous.
'Welcome to La Planque,' said Marianne. 'The original hideout of the de
Bosviles.'
The snow had now stopped falling but the clouds were heavy and low as they got
out of the car and sank, knee deep, into the virgin blanket which covered all.
Struggling against the wind, they all filed through the arch and into the big,
wooden door that was to be their haven until Roger arrived and plans could be
made. It all seemed so peaceful as Marianne led the way up the stone steps and
into the living room where she pushed open the door.
The hackles went up on the back of Suzette's neck as she stood by the door,
watching the others taking off their outdoor clothes. Words would not come as
a fear came over her she could not explain. Wildly, she looked around but
everything seemed normal until the far door creaked open and two people came
into the room. The men who had accompanied her stood as if petrified, their
weapons already discarded. Georges made to reach for the shotgun but was
halted by the click of the automatic revolver. Ramon looked wary. Marianne
looked puzzled. It was Suzette who spoke first.
'Hullo Louis,' she said.
The middle-aged man nodded without smiling whereas the woman with him stepped
purposefully over to Suzette, a look of pure hatred on her face. The revolver
in her hand was held steady, pointed straight at her heart, as Suzette backed
until she was up against the wall. The hate seemed to fill the room as the
older woman faced Suzette until, with a great show of strength, she viciously
lashed out with the pistol, catching Suzette across the side of her face.
Marianne screamed as Suzette's blood spattered on the wall and she slowly slid
down it and fell blissfully into a deep, black well of unconsciousness.
~~~~~


THE MIDDLE GAME

SUNDAY 15th AUGUST - 1330 hrs.
There was panic at Laroque. Senator Pritchard, just back from the Carrier,
loosened his necktie as he watched the screens, trying to make head or tail of
the data coming through.
'It doesn't make sense,' said the operator.
'But the aircraft went where you sent them.'
'But they didn't, they couldn't have done.'
'Look,' argued the Senator. 'The pilot even reported sighting the Pont du Gard
and there aren't two of those in France. They went to Nîmes, as instructed,
and the cupboard was bare.'
'But they didn't, I tell you. I plotted them myself and the data can't lie.
They went up the Vis valley and then north towards Valleraugue. They were in
the wrong place.'
'And what about Green Squadron? What happened to them?'
'I don't know. They were crossing the Causse du Larzac when the simply... blew
up.'
'How could they? The last words that were said was that they were entering the
gorge south of Ganges. According to your data, there was little cloud and good
visibility. Just before he crashed, Green Leader reported running straight
into a snow storm.'
'But there is no snow there, I keep telling you. The snow is to the west and
north...' He sat down.
Senator Pritchard stared at the man as he went as white as a sheet. 'She's
tricked us. That bitch has tricked us.'
'What do you mean?'
'She's found some way to alter the data. We've been looking in the wrong
places.'
'What?'
'It must be. It's the only answer.' He turned to one of his colleagues. 'Give
me a hard copy of the autoboot programme.'
The screens flashed, the printer clicked and the analyst was handed a sheet of
paper.
'Good Grief!'
'What is it?'
'She's altered it. The co-ordinates are wrong.'
'The co-ordinates for what?'
'Princess. That satellite isn't where it's supposed to be.'
'Then where is it?'
'I don't know.'
'You don't know? Then how in hell do we find it?'
'We don't. Without details of the deviation angle, we haven't a hope of
finding her and, until we do, the data is all wrong.'
'How wrong?'
'I don't know that either. However, we can try to guess from the mistakes
we've already made and adjust to compensate. Don't worry, we'll soon have
them.'
SUNDAY 15th AUGUST - 1400 hrs.
The sound of approaching trucks disturbed the silence as Marianne crouched
over the fallen Suzette and attempted to stem the flow of blood from the side
of her head. She looked up but the gun threatened so she kept still.
'Who are they?' asked Corrine as Louis peered through the binoculars towards
the far side of the valley.
'Friends of these people, I expect,' he replied thoughtfully. 'We must find a
way to stop them.'
Corrine looked over to where Georges and Ramon sat, bound hand and foot and
looking thoroughly miserable and then at Suzette.
'Get her outside,' she snapped at Marianne. The young girl hesitated and the
hammer was pulled back as the barrel approached her face. She nodded and
attempted to pull on Suzette's parka as she lifted her to a sitting position.
'No, not the coat. Drag her out onto the balcony just as she is.'
'But she'll freeze,' pleaded Marianne.
Corrine sneered. 'Yes. Won't that be nice.' The gun was millimetres from
Marianne's face. 'Just do as you're told or I'll kill you both.'
With a supreme effort, Marianne dragged the still unconscious Suzette out
through the french windows and onto the high balcony above the courtyard as
the first of the trucks stopped below them.
'Throw down your arms,' shouted Louis as the engines were cut. 'Throw them
down or we shoot the girls. Do it now.'
'Who is he?' asked Roger, sitting in the first truck.
'Louis, the Consortium rebel from Rouen,' said Philippe.
'Well. It looks as if, for now, we had better do as we're told. That looks
like Suzette lying on the balcony.'
'If he's hurt her, I'll...'
'No you don't. Me first. You can have what's left.'
In the meantime, they threw their guns into the snow and climbed down from the
truck.
'Stand in the yard where I can see you all,' yelled Louis.
They did, huddling together for warmth in that cruel, icy wind.
Suzette stirred. Corrine saw her. 'Get to your feet, slut.'
Suzette didn't move so the older woman drew back her leg and drove it, hard,
into the younger woman's chest. Suzette moaned and sat up, clutching her
bruised ribs.
'Up,' said Corrine, grabbing her by the hair and half lifting her by it until
she rested against the wooden handrail which ran along the edge of the
balcony.
She turned to Louis. 'Give me the shotgun.'
Louis obeyed. 'What are you going to do?'
'What do you think? I'm going to spread her guts all over the valley.'
Marianne screamed and started forward but Louis caught her neatly around the
waist and fell back onto the sofa with her, the gun under her chin. 'Now you
just keep out of this, pretty girl, or I'll have to do things to you that will
really hurt you.'
His strength was greater than Marianne's and, combined with his weight, he had
no difficulty in holding her down and prevent her struggling. Suzette raised
her head and looked into Corrine's black eyes. She felt a shiver run through
her body that had nothing to do with the temperature.
'What do you fear most, Suzette?' asked the sadistic Corrine.
Suzette didn't answer.
'Not death, I know. Nor pain. No, I think I know. You fear what all women
fear, what I feared before I lost it.'
Suzette wasn't entirely sure what she meant but, one thing was certain, this
mad woman would not stop until she had caused her considerable pain and
finally, death.
'Take off your clothes,' spat Corrine with inspiration.
'What?' queried Suzette, her back up against the rail.
'Strip,' Corrine said, jabbing the end of the shotgun barrel hard into her
stomach.
Suzette fought for breath as she swayed, doubled over, the whole valley
seeming to spin around the hideout. The barrel drew back to strike again.
'Okay,' she said and forced herself upright again.
Watching the malicious woman's face, she painfully drew the sweater over her
head and dropped it to the veranda. Corrine kicked it off the edge.
'Now the denims.'
Suzette's fingers were stiffening with the cold as she fumbled with the brass
buckle. She managed the belt but the zip would only go down an inch or two.
'Why?' asked Suzette weakly.
'Why? You ask me why? I'll tell you why, bitch. When you sent us out of the
tracking station at Rouen, the radiation was still high. Not lethal, but high
nevertheless. After a week, I got sick and our doctor at Genève told me that I
would bear no more children. He said that, in a few weeks or months, my body
will have rotted inside and no man would want me then. He also assured me
that, by the end of the year, I would be dead and that for my last few weeks I
would be a cripple in great pain.' She paused. 'You ask me why, I tell you. I
want you to feel that same pain.'
'You're going to kill me?'
The laugh was horrible. 'Kill you? Oh no, my dear. At least, not yet.'
Slowly, the barrel descended from Suzette's heart, across her stomach and came
to rest at the point where her denims hung open at the top. 'First, I want you
to feel great pain and humiliation, Suzette. Lots and lots of it. What a woman
fears most is the thought that she might lose her childbearing capability, her
beauty, her man - all the things I am losing. I want to hear you screaming
with pain. Any minute now, I am going to pull this trigger and blow your pert
little belly all over this veranda. I'm going to perforate your womb, turn you
into a cripple by splitting your spine. I'm going to turn you into a freak
that no man will ever want to look at again.'
Suzette looked into her eyes and saw that she meant every word. She shuddered
violently with cold and fear.
'And when I do, I want all your friends to see it all.' She pushed the shotgun
hard into her abdomen.
Through the red mist of pain, Suzette heard, 'Take off the rest of the
clothes.'
Suzette shook her head but another searing jab in the gut hurried her along as
she tried not to vomit from the pain.
'Strip!' screamed Corrine, her eyes no longer human. 'I want you standing
stark naked in front of all your friends so they can see every detail as I rip
your pert little belly open with one barrel and then, when I am convinced that
you have begged to me enough for death, I will let you have the other one in
the face. I want to see you totally humiliated just as you humiliated me.'
'No!' defied Suzette and the barrel swung back and then viciously jabbed
again, tearing through her skin and crushing her abdomen against her spine.
There was a sound like an explosion and Suzette was falling - falling down
into an eternal sea of blazing fire which engulfed the whole of her body
before gradually turning to an icy coldness and deep darkness.
~~~~~
SUNDAY 15th AUGUST - 1700 hrs.
The tiny periscope barely made a ripple as it moved across the surface of the
water, its host appendage moving silently southwards against the current. Six
metres below, bathed in infra-red light, Major Petro Gobonev was unhappy. 'I
say we take them now, Comrade. Just one order from you and the whole of the
American fleet will be at the bottom of the sea.'
'I know that, Major,' replied Colonel Andrei Narovic, his eye to the glass.
'But we have nothing to lose by waiting a little longer.'
'But they must know we are here, they have the satellite.'
'Then why aren't they using it? They picked up our emissions so easily when we
approached last time, why can they not do the same again?'
'Perhaps they are not able. I told you at first hey are not simply a United
Nations Task Force. If they were, why are they not providing relief? And why
have those other men come from the United States? I say destroy them all now,
before they establish bases close to the borders with our Nation.'
'All in good time, Major. At the moment, I am more interested in why some of
their aircraft have not returned. The officer of the watch reported four
helicopters out from Omaha and eight strike aircraft from Columbia. So far,
two helicopters and three aircraft have not returned. I smell a rat.'
'Then sink them while we have the chance. I insist.'
The Colonel turned away from the periscope. 'Major Gobonev. I am in charge
here and there will be no attack unless I give the order.'
The Major drew himself erect. 'Then, under the powers invested in me by the
Presidium, I remove you from your command.'
There was a moment's silence and tension before the Colonel smiled.
'Comrade Markoff,' he said to his aide without looking at him. 'Lock the Major
in his cabin. If he tries to escape or talk to any of the men, see that he
meets with a serious accident.'
'Da, Comrade Colonel.'
The Major continued to glare, ignoring the grip on his arm and the fact that
his pistol was being taken from its holster. 'You will regret this action,
Colonel Narovic. I will write a full report of your actions this day.'
The Colonel turned away from him. 'Comrade Markoff, if you see a pen near his
hand, break his fingers.'
The sailor looked at the Major and smiled. 'With great pleasure, Comrade
Colonel.'
~~~~~
MONDAY 16th AUGUST - 0900 hrs.
The Admiral looked up as his Captain entered his stateroom. 'Are they still
with us, Henry?'
'I think so, sir. Sonar gets an occasional echo but finds it difficult to get
an exact fix.'
'Then we must sit it out for a while longer.'
'Are you not worried, sir?'
'By Narovic? No, Henry. He and I are of the old school. The Colonel will not
attack unless he is provoked and I have no intention of provoking him,
certainly not while we are in his sights. Half an ounce of plutonium stripped
of its electrons beneath our keel would play havoc with Columbia's paintwork.'
The Captain sighed. 'I wish I had your confidence Admiral.'
'It comes with old age, boy.'
'So we just ignore them?'
'Right first time,' he said, pouring another coffee. 'Whatever you do, though,
Henry, don't tell the Senator. He wouldn't sleep so well at night.'
The Captain took the offered cup. 'Doesn't he know?'
'Not a thing. He is back at the tracking station now and keeps insisting that
the Russians are miles away. I think he and his precious computer specialists
are just a little lost.'
'You can say that again. According to their figures, we are on land right
now.'
'So I hear.' He looked out of the porthole. 'Shame about all this water around
us.'
'Are we doing the right thing, Admiral?'
'Probably not,' he said and then smiled. 'But don't you dare tell the Senator
that I said so.'
~~~~~
MONDAY 16th AUGUST - 1100 hrs.
The computer analyst sat back, exhausted. 'It's no good,' he said. 'It's just
guesswork and the computer doesn't like it. It will only accept facts, not
maybes.'
'Can't you just alter the figures to make them right? Surely, if they were so
many miles out, it must be possible to allow for that discrepancy.'
'It's not that easy, Mr Pritchard. It's not the data. The satellite just can't
be where the manual says it is.'
'Then we are wasting our time? All this has been for nothing?'
'Not entirely, sir. We have this tracking station and, as long as we are here,
they can't use it, can they?'
Senator Pritchard thought for a moment and then smiled. 'You are right, my
friend. But don't tell the Admiral. He believes we have complete control of
things.'
~~~~~
MONDAY 16th AUGUST - 1200 hrs.
Major Al Slazinski stepped through the bulkhead and walked along the
passageway, the carefully-wrapped package under his arm, until he came to the
familiar cabin. He knocked and was admitted.
'Come in, Al. Have you brought it?'
'Yes, sir.' He opened the parcel and placed the contents in his Commander's
hands.
Commander Jakes, who was not easily shaken, stared at it without speaking for
a long time.
'How many?' he finally asked.
The Major shrugged. 'Forty, fifty perhaps.'
'Bloody Hell!'
'I couldn't have put it better myself, sir.'
'Who else knows?'
'No-one, Commander. I thought it best not to spread the bad news around.'
'You did right, Al. Keep it under your hat for the time being, eh?'
'Of course, sir. I understand.'
The Major left and Commander Jakes sat down slowly and stared at the piece of
wood for some time before picking up the phone.
GAME REVIEW

MONDAY 16th AUGUST - 1230 hrs.
The Admiral closed the door softly and bade the Captain be seated. 'I've
brought you here, Henry, because I think you deserve to know what John has
found. I must stress, though, that this information must, I repeat, must,
remain between the three of us for the time being. I hate to think what the
Senator would do if he found out. Can I trust you to do that?'
Captain Whittaker's left eyebrow lifted a little before he smiled. 'An
unnecessary question, Admiral. If you can't trust me by now, who can you
trust?'
'Forgive me, Henry, but I had to ask. The matter I am about to disclose
should, by all rights, be immediately reported to the Chief of Staff. As we
are unable to contact him by radio due to atmospherics, I really ought to
inform the President's representative but, under the present set of
circumstances, I do not think it would be the wisest thing to do. If, after
our discussion, the majority decision amongst we three senior officers is to
reveal the information, then so be it. Do I make myself clear?'
'Perfectly, sir.'
'Very well.' He turned to Commander Jakes. 'Tell him, John.'
'I received a coded message from Major Slazinski this morning which caused me
to be puzzled, but not alarmed. If I had know then what I know now, I would
probably have shot myself before lunch.'
The Captain laughed. 'Nothing could be that serious.'
The Commander did not laugh. 'Wait till you find what it is.'
Carefully, he unwrapped the piece of wood and handed it to Captain Whittaker.
'At lunchtime, Al brought me this. It was found near the tracking station.
Apparently, there could be fifty more where that came from.'
'Bloody Hell!' said the Captain.
The Commander grinned. 'That's what I said.'
Captain Whittaker looked down at the short length of packing case which was of
no special value. The grain was rough, the nails which had held it to mother
box were bent where they had been wrenched out. The shape was ordinary and so
was the colour. In fact, the only thing remarkable about it was the single
word boldly stencilled upon it in blood-red paint - DIABLOS.
'And there are another fifty of these lying around somewhere?'
'According to Al there could well be. After the Consortium had been defeated,
he saw a stack of these in the back of the truck being driven by Mr Blackman.
At the time, Al didn't realise the significance of course. It was only when he
got back to Laroque and found the empty crate and the lid lying nearby, that
he realised what it was he had seen in the lorry.'
'Do you think they know what they've got?'
'I think so,' interrupted the Admiral. 'For two reasons. Firstly, there was a
wrecked helicopter near the tracking station. I remember Al reporting in when
he first landed about the fact that the wreckage looked as if it had been
totally pulverized.'
'Could just one small missile do that amount of damage?'
'Oh yes,' said the Commander. 'Diablos is very special. It can be launched
from a standard bazooka, a modified mortar tube, fired from a tank, almost
anything. It has a range of about five miles and the warheads are
interchangeable from standard ballistic to lightweight thermonuclear. One
medium sized ballistic could blow up a tank, totally destroy a helicopter
gunship or bring down an F-18 in flight. With a nuke tip, this entire fleet
could be wiped out before we saw it coming. Guided right to the target, it
couldn't miss.'
'Hell's teeth,' quoted the Captain.
'Precisely. Diablos, the Devil. Appropriately named, eh? And stolen from the
nation that brought us Exocet.'
'What was the second reason for being so sure they know what they've got their
hands on?' asked the Commander.
Admiral Davison sat down and faced his two officers. 'When I was just a mere
lieutenant at the end of the last war, I was based on a carrier in the
Atlantic and assigned to contact a British officer by the name of John
Blackman. During the invasion, he and I met often and, after the war, he was
seconded from one special unit to another until, finally, he wound up in the
SAS. It was in the capacity of senior SAS instructor that he was sent on HMS
Sheffield to the Falklands.'
'So where is he now?'
'Unlucky for him, an Argentine Exocet put an end to that ship's part in the
conflict and, unfortunately, John Blackman was killed. I didn't realise, until
a few days ago, that he had a daughter.'
'Suzette Blackman?'
'Right in one. However, I did know that John had a son so, over the weekend,
I've been doing some digging in the computer records. What I came up with was
an officer on HMS Penzance, one of our escort ships, who once served with John
Blackman. I had him over this morning and had quite a chat with him.
Lieutenant Blackman was, apparently, very proud of his one and only son who
had, with his influence, landed a cosy little job just outside London. It was
with a firm called Technics. You may have heard of them.'
'Don't they make radar components or something similar?'
'All sorts of thing like that. This son, Roger, worked there for ten years
from leaving school and studied one particular subject at which he became an
expert. An expert to such an extent that he began to design and modify their
existing models.'
'And what was this specialist field in which he became so proficient?'
The words came like a bucket of ice-cold water. 'Missile guidance systems.'
There was a shocked silence while they took it in. The Captain was the first
to speak. 'I can see why you would not want to inform the Senator. Heaven
knows what he would make of it.'
'But that's only the half of it.'
'What?' said both the Captain and Commander.
'As you already know, the computer experts have not only lost the "rebels" but
seem, also, to have lost the satellite itself. In trying to alter the existing
programme, they seem to have dumped some of the data somewhere and are madly
scratching their heads to try to find brains inside them.'
The Commander smiled. 'I thought the radio had gone quiet.'
'What it means is that, at the moment, we seem to have no control whatsoever
of the satellite nor information.'
'Is that important?' asked the Captain.
'By itself, simply an inconvenience. However, what must never happen is for
Miss Blackman ever to get her hands on that computer. If she ever gets control
of her precious Princess, we could all be finished.'
'Why? I don't follow.'
'Tell me. What was the last threat the Consortium made before we attacked?'
'To destroy the United States if we didn't conform to their demands.'
'And how, do you think, did they intend to carry out their threat?'
'With missiles or nuclear weapons, I guess.'
'Wrong!' He turned to the Commander. 'John, how many missiles were found in
the silos at Aix when we attacked?'
'None. The last one had been fired at the fleet.'
'Yes. Short-range, low trajectory, medium capacity. Scarcely enough to scratch
Forty-second Street, even if they had gotten that far. No, the Consortium had
to have had something else up their sleeves.'
'But there was nothing else. Except for a few armoured personnel carriers and
a couple of helicopters, they had nothing.'
'Ah, but they did. They had something they had spent two years developing,
something they had spent billions of dollars perfecting, something which had
already been used to identify targets and corrupt attack instructions on both
sides. Something we had and now appear to have mislaid.'
'Princess?'
'Precisely.'
'But surely not. What could one Satellite do to harm the States? It doesn't
have the range, for one thing.'
'Doesn't it? Not if it is where it's supposed to be, it hasn't. Geostationary
satellites are usually at around forty thousand kilometres above the equator
and this one, according to the book, is supposed to be over Gambia.
Unfortunately for our dear experts up there on the mountain, Princess is at
neither.'
'Perhaps she has fallen back to earth or spun out of orbit.'
'No. The data is still coming in thick and fast. She is still there all right,
watching and waiting.'
'Waiting for what?'
'A certain signal.'
'What kind of a signal?'
'Listen. What do we know already?' He counted on his fingers. 'The Consortium
threatened the whole continent of America with destruction. For all we know,
they may well have threatened Russia in a similar manner. They had no missiles
yet they never bluffed about anything else.'
'That's true,' said Captain Whittaker.
'They said they would start a war and they did. They said they would survive
and they did that. They threatened to destroy our fleet and they would have
done it, too, had not Miss Blackman taken over control of the satellite just
in the nick of time.'
'You mean to say that the two greatest nations in the world were just part of
a great game?'
'Just pawns, John, to be sacrificed at will so that the Black King and Queen
could reign supreme.'
'But now they have been defeated.'
'But what about the girl? She is still on the board, somewhere. The trouble
is, where is she? And what the hell is she up to?'
'Is it important?'
The Admiral looked at them both with pity. 'Don't you realise? It's what the
game is all about. No longer is it a case of who Checks the King but who gets
the Princess.'
'What do you mean?' asked the puzzled Captain.
'I mean that we must, at all costs, prevent Miss Blackman ever gaining control
of that satellite. After the way we and the Russians have treated that young
lady and her friends, she has every right to take her anger out on the both of
us.'
'You mean that whoever controls Princess really controls Europe?'
'No, not exactly. What I really mean is that it is eminently possible that
whoever finds Princess first, gains control over the whole world.'
~~~~~




CASTLING

TUESDAY 17th AUGUST - 1100 hrs.
The quiet hum of machinery was all that disturbed the silence in the control
room of Malinov One. Colonel Narovic sat, deep in thought, while his officers
held the submarine motionless in the water.
The radio operator removed his headphones. 'They've gone, Comrade Colonel.'
'Very well. Thank you.' He turned to his aide. 'By tonight, Malinov Two should
be through the Marmara Denizi and well on way.'
'Let us hope, sir, that they can get a message through to Moskva.'
'They must, Comrade. The President must act immediately, without delay. They
must send people into Europe quickly, before the Americans can do so.'
'It all depends on Malinov Two then?'
'The future of Europe does, my friend. It certainly does.'
~~~~~
TUESDAY 17th AUGUST - 1200 hrs.
The weather pattern was changing over the Massif Central. It had stopped
snowing at Mandagout and the billowing white clouds which had covered the sky
gently dissipated as the day wore on. Gillian Green smiled and opened the
stone-mullioned window overlooking the small stream, Rousseau des Vieilles.
Where the snow had melted, small flowers were already pushing their heads
through the dark, damp soil and, occasionally, there could be heard the song
of a bird. Things were gradually returning to normal in France. Now and then,
the sound of a chain saw could be heard across the valley where her Jim was
cutting wood for the fire. A slight sound behind her made her turn. Two brown
eyes were watching her.
'Hullo, Gill,' said the girl lying on the bed.
'Hullo, you, too,' Gillian said as she walked across the room and sat on the
edge of the bed. 'I was beginning to think you were never coming round.'
'Have I been out long?'
'Two days.' Gillian smiled. 'I was getting worried about you.'
'Am I badly hurt?'
'Suzette, you are an utter mess. You have at least two cracked ribs, terrible
bruising all over your stomach and abdomen, I had to put three stitches in the
side of your head and you've got the biggest and best black eye I've ever seen
in my life. I just hope there are no internal injuries. Corrine was pretty
ruthless with that gun barrel.'
'I know.' Suzette winced at the memory. 'I felt it.'
'Don't worry. You now have your very own veterinary surgeon to look after
you.'
'Vet?'
'What did you expect out here in the sticks? Doctors and hospitals?'
'I can't feel my legs,' Suzette suddenly said.
Gillian stood up and turned away. 'It's a side-effect of the medication I gave
you. Don't worry. You've still got the best-looking legs in Europe.' She
sighed. 'You always did have.'
Suzette tried to laugh but it hurt too much and she relaxed again. 'My back
hurts.'
'You did that when you fell off the balcony. Don't you remember?'
'I remember being rammed in the gut with the barrel of the shotgun, then a
loud bang, a great pain in my stomach and back and then I was falling. I
thought I had been shot.'
'It was the balcony handrail that saved your life. It was rotten and broke
when you were shoved against it and you fell twenty feet to the ground.'
Suzette groaned. 'No wonder my back hurts.'
'You were lucky, you fell close to the house where the snow had dropped from
the roof. It broke your fall quite a bit.'
'Corrine?'
'Fell further out. There was a vine cultivator standing in the yard. Its
blades had been sharpened for the harvest.'
'Ugh!'
'Ugh, indeed. Unfortunately for Corrine, she also fell on her shotgun and it
went off in her face. There was little left of it after it had been blown all
over the yard.'
'Poor Corrine.'
Gillian looked amazed. 'Suzette. The woman was a loony. She tried to kill you
at best, cripple and maim you at least. Don't feel sorry for her. We don't.'
'Where are the others?'
'Roger and Philippe have taken the trucks to Le Vigan and Ganges to try to
find food and see if there are survivors. Roger took Marianne as interpreter.'
'Roger can speak French as well as I can,' Suzette said with a wry smile.
'I guess they are in love.'
'Like you and Jim.'
'Just like. The man of my life is out there, cutting logs to keep you warm.'
Gillian hesitated. 'What happened between you and Philippe?'
'I'm not sure. I just don't think he's telling me the truth.'
'About what?'
'About what he's doing. When we were on Columbia, he let slip that he had a
helicopter.'
'He has, hasn't he?'
'He did have. It was left at the tracking station at Rouen but the Consortium
planted a thermonuclear device for us.'
'How did you survive?'
'Philippe knew how to disarm it.'
'Then that's how his helicopter survived.'
'No. He had to reset the bomb when we left or they would know we were still
alive and come looking for us.'
'Yes, the Directeur said he knew it had gone off. How would he know?'
Suzette shrugged. 'By using Princess, I guess. They would see the heat output
of the explosion.'
'Then Philippe must be lying for some other reason.'
'Yes, that's what I think. But Why?'
'Beats me. Are you hungry?'
'Famished.'
'Beans on toast do? I've only got tinned stuff and bread that Marianne and I
baked ourselves.'
'Sounds great. Where is Louis?'
'Locked in his room. He hasn't said a word since Corrine died.'
'I'd like to see him.'
'You are not going anywhere. Vet's orders.'
'He can come in here.'
'You want me to let him out? Roger and Philippe will have a fit.'
'Tough. I need to talk to him.'
Gillian shrugged and then grinned. 'Be it upon your own head.'
She left and, a few moments later, Suzette heard the murmur of voices in the
next room and then Louis appeared in the doorway. He was unshaven, unwashed
and his suit was irreparably creased. In fact, quite a different-looking
person to the man Suzette had originally met at Rouen.
'Come in and sit down,' offered Suzette.
'I'd rather stand,' he said gruffly.
'That's what all the tough guys say in movies and it doesn't impress me at
all. So just swallow your pride and take a seat. You'll get awfully tired
standing up.'
Reluctantly, Louis took a chair and swung his leg over it, leaning his arms
along the back and resting his head on his hands.
'I'm sorry about Corrine,' said Suzette kindly.
Louis looked stunned. 'You are?'
'Of course. I don't like to see anyone hurt.'
'She was going to kill you.'
'I know that. And you were going to let her, weren't you?'
He didn't speak for several moments. 'What are you going to do with me?'
'That might not be up to me, Louis. But you and I could do worse than join
forces.'
He laughed nervously. 'Join forces? What do we have in common?'
'Quite a lot. We worked together at Rouen, didn't we?'
'After a fashion,' he admitted.
'How many are left at Genève?' she suddenly asked.
It was some time before he spoke. 'How did you know?'
'Genève was on a list of your centres found in the Chateau down the road but
the Americans went there but couldn't find anyone. How many?'
He shrugged. 'There's no reason why you shouldn't know. About two hundred,
mostly bankers, financiers and other professional people.'
'Soldiers?'
He shook his head. 'A few security guards, maybe.'
'A bit pathetic, isn't it?'
'It wouldn't have been if you had kept your nose out of it.'
'Yes it would. I met the Directeur, remember? It wouldn't have been long
before he would have pushed the rest of you out.'
'He needed us.'
'Only at the beginning. After you had played your part with Princess, what
good would you have been to him?'
'Not a lot,' he admitted. 'And what good would I be to you now?'
'You know the people in Switzerland. Genève was to be the Capital, wasn't it?'
'All of a sudden, you know one hell of a lot.'
She smiled. 'It's from working with computers. In the end, you begin to think
like one. It was logical, really. To be frank, it still is.'
'What else do you want me to do?'
'You could help us.'
'What?'
'If we are to bring peace to Europe, we must find a way to satisfy all the
camps. The man you tied up when we arrived is the local Communist Party
leader. In the interim, I believe we could form a three-way coalition
government to satisfy everyone.'
'Who would be the third delegate?' he asked with a sneer. 'You?'
'Good Heavens, no. I'm no politician. I was thinking of Marianne.'
'Marianne? Marianne who?'
'The girl you threatened on Sunday. She is Marianne de Bosvile, descendant of
the Comte and Comtesse de Ramsden. Prior to that she is related, fairly
loosely I'll admit, to most of the Royal families of Europe.'
'Is she now? And what part would you play in all this scheme of things?'
'Me? What good would I be?'
'None at all,' interrupted Gillian, 'If you don't eat some breakfast.'
The sound of a tractor in the courtyard made her smile.
'The man of my life returns. It might be your breakfast time, young Suzette,
but it's my Jim's lunch time.'
~~~~~

TUESDAY 17th AUGUST - 2100 hrs.
The sun was setting as the waters north of Tavsan Ada swirled and then slowly
parted to allow the squat conning tower to rise majestically from the depths
of the Northern Agean. Water cascaded from the foredeck and glistened red in
the glow from the sun as the bows turned eastwards and began to enter the
narrow straits separating Europe from Asia. The Turks called the
six-kilometres-wide chasm Canakkale Bogazi while the Europeans once used the
name given to them by the ancient Greeks - Hellespont. Now, the location was
almost universally know by the name used by the French soldiers based at
Gallipoli during the war - Dardanelles.
'When shall we attempt contact, Comrade Captain?' asked the radio operator.
'We will try when we are through the Canakkale and into the Cernoje More. If
that does not work, we must try to get to Odessa or Nikolayev and see what
damage has been caused in Russia. If either port has survived, I must speak by
telephone to Moskva.'
'Will we ever see home again, Captain?'
'I hope so, Comrade. I certainly hope so.'
~~~~~
ROGER eased the truck around the hairpin bends above Costabague as darkness
began to fall. Stones rattled down the slope and the engine of the vehicle
began to labour as the gradient increased with the height. Above the great
outcrop that was the Rock of Courbière, he cut the engine and they peered down
into the valley.
'C'est magnifique,' observed Marianne as she observed the red-tinted clouds
ahead of them, overshadowing Serre de Roulon.
'I'll go along with that,' agreed Roger, slipping his arm around her
shoulders.
'We wait here all night, Señor Roger?' asked the grinning face from the rear.
'No, Carlos,' laughed Roger. 'We're just admiring the view. Don't you find it
romantic?'
'Romantic, Señor?'
'Typical Spaniard,' joked Marianne. 'If it's not Spain, it's no good.'
'Precisely, Senorita.' He dropped the flap back into place. 'Wake me when we
are there.'
'Dormez-bien,' said Marianne and turned her attention back to her man. 'I'm
glad we found them.'
'Who? Carlos and his men?'
'No, imbecile. Those people at Ganges. They seemed to have no idea what had
happened.'
'I don't suppose they did. No bombs dropped near to here. All they knew was
that communication suddenly stopped and, a day or two later, those who went
outside began to get sick. The clever ones soon learned to stay inside, away
from the fallout.'
'I wonder how Philippe and Manuel got on in Le Vigan.'
'We'll soon find out.' He started the engine. 'We'll be home in ten minutes.'
'It sounds funny to call this place home,' Marianne mused.
'It's all we've got at the moment and there are plenty of worse places to be.
Just think, we could be in Paris or Clermont-Ferrand, amongst all the rubble.'
'Will anyone have survived there, do you think?'
'I doubt it. Suzette and Philippe drove all the way from Rouen to well south
of Toulouse before they got out of the area of complete devastation. Northern
France must be a total mess. The Consortium knew the Russians would have their
missiles targeted on the industrial and commercial centres. I guess places
like Berlin and Dresden are similarly flattened.'
'What a waste.'
'And all for nothing.'
'I wonder if Suzette has regained consciousness yet.'
'We'll soon see,' he said, turning the truck around the bends at Beaulieu.
'If she has, will Gill have told her?'
'About her legs, you mean? I don't know. She might not until she is a little
stronger and able to take the news.'
'Poor Suzette, after all she's been through. To come all the way here, be
attacked by a nutcase and wind up never being able to walk again.'
TUESDAY 17th AUGUST - 2145 hrs.
The communicator buzzed on the bridge of Columbia. 'Message from Laroque,
Commander. Senator Pritchard says he's found them.'
The Commander looked at the Admiral. 'He has, has he? Tell him that we'll talk
to him in a few minutes.'
'With respect, Commander. I think the Senator is eager to have immediate
action.'
'Sparks, do as you're told,' barked the Admiral and switched off the intercom,
nodding towards his cabin. The two officers walked there in silence, carefully
locking the door before speaking.
'Well, sir. Do we speak to the Senator or let him stew?'
'I think we must speak with him, John. We have no choice.' He picked up the
phone. 'Put me through to Senator Pritchard at Laroque.'
'Pritchard here, Admiral Davison. The time has come for you to get off your
butt. By manipulating the data, we have managed to get a response from CX zone
which is the area where the rebels disappeared.'
'Have you now? And where might that be?'
'The place where you should have looked in the first place. I told you they
were up to no good and have now been proved right.'
'Spare me the sarcasm, Senator. Where are they?'
'Where I knew they would be. They have returned to the old rebel headquarters.
Launch your Hornets, Admiral, and finish them off. The target is La Planque
village at Mandagout.'
EN PASSANT
WEDNESDAY 18th AUGUST - 0900 hrs.
Malinov Two finally cleared the Bosporus and entered the big, empty Cernoje
More, the Black Sea. No signs of life had been seen as they passed the city of
Istanbul that, for centuries, had guarded the straits between the two great
seas.
'Extend the main aerial,' commanded the Captain.
Buttons were pressed and, after a short pause, the radio operator began to
speak. 'Malinov Two to Odessa Control. Do you read? Over.'
Static was the only reply.
'Keep trying,' said the Captain.
'Very well, Comrade Captain.' He pressed the button. 'Malinov Two to Odessa
Control. Do you read? Over.'
Captain Ralentov turned to his engineer. 'Emergency full speed, Comrade.
Unless you see a need to submerge, stay on the surface, we will make better
time that way.'
'I understand the urgency, Captain.'
'Radar,' added the Captain as he was leaving the main deck. 'Keep a good
lookout. Wake me if anything changes. I need some sleep.'
He walked down the gangway to the repeating, fading sounds of, 'Malinov Two to
Odessa Control. Come in, please. Over,' and, 'Malinov Two to Odessa Control.
Do you read? Over.
THE Senator's face was as black as thunder as he stormed into the Admiral's
stateroom to confront Admiral Davison.
'Why have I been brought here?' he demanded, pushing past Lieutenant Benson
who stood, impassive, his hands behind his back.
The Admiral did not reply at once but continued to reshuffle the papers in
front of him.
'I insist on an explanation,' added the statesman, thumping the polished
table.
Admiral Michael Davison stopped and looked at the Senator over the top of his
gold-rimmed glasses before slowly putting down his papers, standing and
removing his spectacles. 'These are my headquarters, Senator. I would be
grateful if you would respect that fact.'
'How dare you, sir?' blurted Senator Pritchard, his face red with anger. 'And
why haven't you sent out your aircraft to destroy the rebels?'
'Ask the Commander,' said the Admiral quietly.
The Senator turned on the tall, grey-headed man beside him. 'Well, Commander
Jakes. What do you have to say for yourself?'
'I have not sent out my attack squadron because I have not been given the
order.'
'I gave the order, sailor. Why haven't you obeyed?'
'I give the orders on this ship,' interrupted the Admiral.
'But I am the special representative of the President,' he spat through his
clenched teeth. 'I have his full authority to act as I see fit.'
'Not on my ship, Senator.'
'But you are an officer of the United States Navy. You have no alternative,
Admiral.'
'Rear-Admiral, retired,' corrected the senior officer. 'Specially seconded by
the Security Council of the United Nations to bring about peace in Europe and
under their direct orders. What you are proposing will not bring peace but
further conflict.'
'But we must destroy them, they cannot be allowed to gain the upper hand.'
'They already have that,' interrupted the Commander.
'What do you mean?' asked the politician, facing him.
'If I were to give the order to launch a large number of strike aircraft, we
would all be dead within a minute.'
Senator Pritchard looked bewildered. 'How?'
'Several reasons,' said the Admiral, slowly walking around the table towards
him. 'Firstly, Malinov One is just over a mile from us, waiting for us to make
any move that might be construed as an attack.'
'One submarine? Against our whole fleet?'
'You obviously are not acquainted with the fire power of a Malinov Series
Super-sub, Senator. If you were, you would not pose such a ridiculous
question.'
'You mean we must simply sit here, waiting?'
'Unless it becomes imperative to act. I am certain that, if an attack does
take place, this carrier will be the first to go to the bottom of the Med.'
'And that's not the only reason for our hesitation,' added Commander Jakes.
'The rebels have two weapons which could defeat everything but an all-out
invasion. One is a guided-missile system so sophisticated that our aircraft
might never get close enough to launch an attack.'
'And the other weapon?'
'One that could destroy the United States.'
The Senator stood, scowling, for a long time before he suddenly burst out
laughing. 'You are not serious.'
'Perfectly serious,' said Captain Whittaker. 'It's no longer a question of how
many of them are killed but, possibly, how many more millions of innocent
people are to be sacrificed so that you can play the hero.'
'How dare you, Captain? I have the full authority of the President of the
United States.'
The Admiral confronted him. 'Then why did he ask me how the plans for peace
were coming along?'
The politician swallowed. 'When did you speak with him?'
'An hour ago. Atmospherics have improved considerably during the morning. He
asked what further aid we could give to the French Nationals and how you were
dealing with the distribution of what aid we already have in the holds of
Perigrine and Weymouth.'
'But he must now realise that there are some things which are more
important...'
The room fell silent until the Admiral, though older, grabbed the Senator by
the lapels and almost lifted him from the deck. The Senator's bodyguard
reached into his coat but was halted by a click close to his face as
Lieutenant Benson rested the end of the barrel of his automatic against the
man's neck. The naval officer reached in and retrieved the revolver, tossing
it onto the table.
'On your knees, sir,' he ordered, deliberately over-stressing the title, and
the miserable man sank to the floor, his hands upon his head.
'The President doesn't know, does he?' accused the Admiral. 'My God, this is
another Irangate, isn't it? Because of your greed and power-lust, I have lost
two helicopters and three planes as well as a score of personnel. I ought to
have you thrown overboard right now.'
The Senator's mouth fell open but no words came.
'Get Al in here, John,' seethed the Admiral. 'I want this slob and his
baby-sitter off my boat right now. Have them taken direct to the airport and
then flown home. I don't ever want to see their faces again.'
'And the engineers?' asked the Captain.
'They can stay, we might need them. That cursed satellite might now be our
only means of getting out of this mess in one piece.'
WEDNESDAY 18th AUGUST - 1300 hrs.
'Odessa Control to Malinov Two, go ahead,' came the eventual, faint reply as
the super-sub raced northward across the surface of the Black Sea.
A cheer went up on the vessel and the Captain was woken. He staggered to the
control room, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and then sat down to give a full
report to the Russian Naval Commander at Oddessa Submarine base.
~~~~~
SUZETTE was restless as she tossed in her bunk despite the efforts of Gillian
to hold her still.
'She's running a fever,' observed Gillian. 'We must find a way to restrain
her. If she keeps rolling about like this, she could do irreparable damage to
herself.'
'Can we do nothing to help her?' asked Roger.
'Very little. She's fairly well sedated with pain-killers at the moment. I
guess the fever is some kind of a reaction.'
'After what she's been through, it's hardly surprising,' said Philippe.
'She needs proper medical help, I've done all I can for her.'
'We have found a couple of local doctors but they have their hands full
treating the survivors of fallout.'
'What Suzette needs is a specialist of some sort. I really can't tell just how
badly her spine is damaged.'
'Where will we find such a specialist?'
'On Columbia?'
'Suzette would not agree to that. It would mean throwing away all she has
achieved.'
'Then don't tell her. Just radio them and call for help. It's her life that is
at stake.'
Philippe and Roger looked at each other. 'It's worth a try,' they agreed.
Roger found the walkie-talkie in Suzette's car and took it back upstairs.
He pressed the button. 'Mandagout to Columbia. Do you receive? Over.'
No reply. He tried again. Same result.
'We must be out of range.'
'Perhaps we should try to get higher,' suggested Jim. 'We are in the valley
here. If we could get up there...' He pointed to the lofty peak of Serre de la
Toureille dominating the North-Western skyline. 'It must be almost
four-thousand feet high and should improve transmission.'
'Are we doing the right thing?' cautioned Marianne.
'Right now, nothing is more important than Suzette's welfare. Surely you must
see that.'
'I see it, Philippe. It's just I don't think that Suzette will see it that
way.'
'What else do you suggest?'
Her head dropped and then shook, sadly.
'We'll not find it easy to make it up there in the truck,' observed Roger,
following the line of the road with his eyes, shielded from the bright
sunshine which now bore down upon the valley.
'Suzette's car?' offered Philippe.
'If I wrecked that, she'd kill me,' smiled her brother. 'Legs or no legs.'
'How about Louis' Fourtrack?' broke in Gillian. 'It's in the old barn by the
bridge.'
'Perfect,' said Roger with a smile. 'Let's go and get the keys from him.'
Roger and Philippe unlocked the bedroom door and asked for the keys to the
Fourtrack. Louis handed them over without objection but simply asked why. They
told him.
 As they turned to leave, he placed his hand on Philippe's shoulder.
'Philippe. There is a neuro-surgeon at Genève. If her spinal column is
damaged, he may be able to help.'
Gillian interrupted. 'We don't know what it is. I was trained at Cambridge as
a veterinary surgeon but horses are not quite the same as humans.'
'What do we know about her condition?' asked Louis.
'Only that she cannot feel her legs and her back gives her considerable
pain.'
Gillian lifted the girl's tee-shirt a little. 'Look at that bruising. She sure
took a hammering when she hit that handrail.'
'And then fell,' added Marianne.
'Is her back actually broken?' asked Louis, surprisingly very concerned.
'I don't think so,' said Gillian. 'At least, not laterally. There seems to be
no actual displacement of the vertebrae at any point. But that means nothing,
in itself.'
'Then we must get her to Karl Mitzen. He will know precisely what to do.'
'You're not moving her anywhere. Heaven knows what damage we might do to her
spine bumping her half way across France and then through winding mountain
passes.'
'Then he must come here,' said Louis.
'Why would he help us?' asked Marianne.
'He is a doctor. He would help anyone, especially if I asked him.'
'How can we trust you?' asked Roger after a pause.
'One of you can come with me. Several of you, if you insist.'
'I'll go,' said Philippe to Roger. 'My command of the language is better than
yours.'
Roger smiled. 'You're probably right.'
They told the others and relief showed all round except on the face of Gillian
who suddenly remembered Suzette's suspicions.
'Roger,' she said, trying not to let her trepidation show. 'You had better go,
too.'
'I can't,' he said. 'No-one else can operate Diablos.'
'Don't let them go alone,' she whispered frantically.
Roger laughed. 'Okay. Marianne can go with them.'
'I'll go, too,' said Jim, remembering what Gillian had told him though not
altogether sure he believed it.
'I don't mind going along for the ride,' said Marianne, puzzled at the
unspoken tension. 'I'll be with Philippe, so what danger could there possibly
be?'
~~~~~
WEDNESDAY 18th AUGUST - 1500 hrs.
The three naval officers were uncertain as to what to do next.
'Do you think that they really have returned to Mandagout?' asked the Captain.
'It would seem an unusual thing to do if they are as innocent as they first
seemed,' observed Commander Jakes.
'Perhaps, gentlemen,' mused the Admiral. 'That is precisely what the whole
point is. Under normal circumstances, it would be the last place we would
expect them to go and, if they are really rebels, they would be stupid to
return there. However, if they really are as innocent as I believe them to be,
it is just the sort of clever move I would have expected from the daughter of
John Blackman.'
'But that's ridiculous, if you don't mind me saying so, sir. It's too obtuse.'
'That's what you said about her chess, wasn't it, John? A weather-Girl's
Gambit, I think you called it. While you're busy discounting her unorthodox
moves, just remember who it was won that game with Colonel Narovic.'
The Commander fell silent.
'What do you suggest we do?' asked Captain Whittaker.
'I suggest we do what we came here to do and ignore them. I would think there
are plenty of places around that could do with the food and supplies we
brought across the Atlantic. Now that our White-House friend has taken off, we
can get the operators at Laroque to do something useful, like finding people
for us, instead of chasing the White Queen all over the chess board.'
Captain Whittaker looked startled. 'What did you call her?'
'The White Queen. That's how she beat Narovic, don't you remember? White Queen
to King's Bishop Six.'
'You've got a good memory.'
'It's what has kept me alive so long. At last I'm beginning to see a pattern
to all this.'
'A pattern?' said the Captain. 'But it was just a game.'
'Chess is never a game, Henry. It is war and we are the pieces.'
'Then where is King's Bishop Six?'
'If I knew that, John. I would not be sitting here, wondering whether she
views me as the Black King or not.'
'Do you think she does? View you as her enemy, I mean.'
'If she does,' the Admiral said seriously. 'Then it's high time I started
getting worried.'
~~~~~




ROOK TO    KING FIVE

WEDNESDAY 18th AUGUST - 1600 hrs.
Marianne lay back in the comfortable back seat of the Fourtrack as it raced
along the straight, narrow road to St Hippolyte du Fort. On the left towered
the great limestone gash in the landscape that was Pic du Midi; an
unmistakable landmark on the edge of the Southern Cévennes. Philippe sat in
front of her, his arm resting on the edge of the open window, cradling the
steering wheel confidently in his hands. Beside her, Louis was deep in
thought. The last passenger, Jim, toyed with the radio in the hope of finding
a station still transmitting.
'We should be in Nîmes by five,' calculated Philippe. 'And I guess we will be
in Lyon by nightfall.'
'Assuming the bridges are intact,' commented Jim. 'If they are not, we may
have to go a long way north before we can cross the Saône to get to Geneva.'
'We'll follow the Rhône where possible. If we see a bridge that looks safe,
we'll risk it and cross.'
'Where did you cross, Louis?' asked Marianne in French.
'Me?'
'Yes,' she replied, a little puzzled at his lack of involvement. 'You came
from Genève, didn't you?'
'We crossed close to Lyon. I can't remember precisely where.'
'What was Lyon like?' asked Jim.
'Lyon?'
'The city. When you came through. Were there any signs of life?'
'We didn't see any,' Louis said quickly. 'We came through at night.'
'I see,' pondered Jim thoughtfully.
~~~~~
WEDNESDAY 18th AUGUST - 1620 hrs.
The intercom crackled. 'Señor Roger. Are you receiving? Over.'
Roger picked up the instrument, watching Gillian as she gently wiped Suzette's
forehead.
'Go ahead, Carlos.'
'I am in position. The road is clear right to the top of the hill and I have
parked the truck under the trees close to the refuge and walked the short
distance to the top. Over.'
'Excellent. I can hear you very clearly. Can you see anything? Over.'
'The cloud is almost gone now. I can see right to St Hippolyte and across to
Mont Aigoual. Over.'
'Southwards? Over.'
'Across the plateaux into the distance. There is nothing to report. Over.'
'Very good, Carlos. Keep in touch. I will send Manuel to relieve you just
before sunset. Over.'
'Gracias, Señor Roger. Adios.'
Roger placed the intercom on the table and sat down beside Gillian and looked
at his sister. 'How is she?'
'No better. But at least she is holding her own. I suppose that while she is
not conscious, she feels no pain.'
'Will she survive?'
'That depends how long it takes for Louis and Philippe to return with this
famous surgeon.'
'They should get as far as Lyon tonight. Then it's a fairly short hop to
Geneva. If they find the doctor quickly, they should get back to Lyon by
tomorrow night. All being well, we will know by this time on Friday.'
'I'm worried.'
'What about?'
'About Jim and Marianne.'
'Why? They are in good hands. I don't think Louis will try to fight all of
them, even if he is so inclined. He seems quite helpful at the moment. We have
to trust him anyway. He is Suzette's only chance of survival.'
'I don't know why I'm worried. I suppose it is just that Suzette thinks
Philippe may not be all he seems.'
Roger shrugged. 'He seems all right to me.'
'And me. It was Suzette who was suspicious. It's probably nothing to worry
about.'
'I'm sure it's not.' He stood up. 'Hold on here, will you, Gill? I'm going to
check on a little devil.'
'Carlos?'
'No,' he laughed. 'Diablos.'
His footsteps gradually faded as he went down the stairs, passing a greeting
with the ever-vigilant Georges on the way. Gillian looked down at Suzette who
stirred restlessly, her tee-shirt soaked with perspiration.
'Hold on, Suzette,' Gillian whispered. 'Just a little while longer. Don't go
and die on me now.'
~~~~~
WEDNESDAY 18th AUGUST - 1700 hrs.
 Major Slazinski zipped up his jacket as he stood beside his helicopter,
facing the Commander.
'Are you sure you want to do this, Al?' shouted the senior officer above the
noise of the rotors.
'Of course, sir. There is no-one else whom she will trust. Not now.'
'You do realise that as soon as they see you approaching you could easily be
blown out of the sky.'
'Yes, sir. I understand. At least I shall know nothing about it.'
'It's not funny, Al. You and I have served together for... How many years is
it?'
'Twelve, sir.'
'Twelve years. You are one of my best officers and I'd hate to lose you.'
'So would my lady, Commander. But I have no intention of getting killed yet. I
think I can get through to Miss Blackman. She and I talk the same language.'
'What's that?'
'Common sense, Commander. I'm not sure about the others, though, I don't know
them well enough. I just know that, if I can talk to the girl, it will be all
right.'
'Are you sure you won't let me send others to cover your back?'
'Quite sure, sir. Just Martin and I. We'll get through. We have to.'
'I hope so, Major. A lot of lives are depending on you.'
The two officers shook hands before the black Major shoved the cigar back into
his mouth and waved at the pilot. 'Take her up, Frank. Let's go put our heads
into the lion's mouth.'
Commander Jakes held onto his hat as the helicopter rose slowly and then
slipped sideways and slowly and disappeared towards the land.
'Goodbye, Al,' murmured the Commander. 'God go with you.'
He turned to find the Admiral standing beside him on the wide flight deck.
'Well, John?'
'He's gone, Admiral. I only hope we haven't sacrificed a very brave pawn.'
'Time will tell, John. We should know in less than thirty minutes.'
'We are held in check, sir. It is the only move we can make.'
The Admiral looked eastwards across the calm Mediterranean. 'Let's hope
Comrade Narovic sees it that way.'
'If he doesn't?'
'Then, in about...' he looked at his watch, 'twenty-four minutes, you and I
will no longer be worrying about who is winning the game.'
~~~~~
WEDNESDAY 18th AUGUST - 1720 hrs.
Carlos sat up straight and pricked up his ears. Getting to his feet, he peered
across the distant plateau to where a tiny dot showed clearly against the pale
sky. He reached for his radio. 'Señor Roger. Come in. Over.'
'Go ahead, Carlos.'
'Unidentified aircraft approaching from the south.'
'Okay. Get under cover. I'll deal with it.'
'Si, Señor Roger.' He peered through his binoculars. 'It looks like a
helicopter.'
Roger dragged the case from the back of the truck and prised open the lid.
With help from Georges and Manuel, he was soon ready. In the distance, the
faint sound of rotors could be heard.
'It approaches slowly, Monsieur Blackman,' observed Georges.
'Trying to sneak up on us, no doubt.'
'Rather a noisy way to do it,' commented Gillian, coming out of the doorway.
'Could it be a distraction, do you think?'
'Gillian, you are not just a pretty face.' He kissed her cheek and reached for
the radio. 'Carlos, are you still with me?'
'Si, Señor Roger.'
'Take a quick look around. Are you sure there is no-one else approaching, from
another direction, perhaps.'
There was a delay of several minutes while the sound of rotors gradually
increased, almost filling the narrow valley with the sound. Tension increased
as they looked around for signs of other approach.
'All clear,' spoke the communicator, and then another voice broke in. 'Major
Slazinski to Mandagout. Do you read? Over.'
Gillian jumped at the interruption. 'That's Al's voice.'
'They are not fooling me, Gill,' said Roger. 'This is some kind of trick.'
Gillian picked up the communicator. 'Gillian Green here, Al. What do you
want?'
'To talk,' came the reply.
'He's stalling,' observed Roger.
'Wait,' she said. 'Al?'
'Go ahead, Miss Gillian.'
'I'd advise you not to come any closer. We've got you on screen now and you
know what that means.'
'I swear I come in peace. Don't shoot until I've spoken to Miss Suzette.'
Gillian looked at Roger, poised to fire Diablos into the air on a one-way trip
with a big bang at the end of short journey. Roger nodded.
'Come in slowly, Al. If this is some kind of a trick, Roger's finger will
bring an end to our brief friendship.'
'No tricks, Missy. I promise.'
The watchers waited as the gunship came around the bend in the valley,
trailing a large white sheet, wheels down and doors wide open. Slowly, it
approached and hovered above the old village before settling down amid the
stumps of vines beside the stream. Slowly, Al Slazinski lit his cigar and
casually clambered out onto the grassy slope. The sight of Diablos sent a
shudder through him before he started walking into the jaws of death.
'Thanks for hearing me out,' he eventually said.
'I hope this is good, Major,' said Roger.
'I would prefer to speak with Miss Suzette.'
'I'm afraid that is not possible,' said Gillian. 'Suzette has met with an
accident.'
Al was noticeably shaken. 'H...how did it happen?' he stammered, clutching
Gillian by the upperarms.
She looked at Roger who nodded and sat down. Gillian held out her hand to the
Major. 'Come with me.'
Together, they walked up the narrow, stone, spiral staircase until Gillian
pushed open a wooden door to admit them. Ramon rose to his feet, suitably
armed with his machete, but Gillian indicated that all was well. The Major
stood by the bed and looked down at the girl who lay, delirious with fever, on
the small cot.
'What happened to her?' he eventually asked.
'She was attacked by one of the survivors of the Consortium.'
'There are survivors?'
'Not many and, fortunately, hardly any like Corrine LaFleche.'
'How did it happen?'
Gillian sat on the bed and explained in detail what had happened while Al
paced the room, getting more and more agitated as the details became clear.
'Do you believe them?' asked the Major.
'About Genève? I don't know but we had to take the chance, we have no
alternative.'
'Yes you do. I will fly her to this specialist.'
'Fly her?'
'In the 'copter. It might be days before your people get back. If we leave
now, we will be there before they even arrive.'
'But how will we find this doctor?'
'It shouldn't be that difficult. Geneva is not a big place. Hold on a moment.'
He picked up the communicator. 'Martin. Get Commander Jakes on the horn. I'm
coming down.'
Al pummelled the stairs with his boots as he descended and then ran over to
the Gunship. Corporal Fisher handed him the microphone.
'Commander? Al Slazinski here.'
'Go ahead, Al.'
'Could you get out the aerial photos Red Squadron took of Geneva.'
'Geneva? Okay. Hold on.'
After a short delay, the communicator spoke again. 'I've got them, Al. What am
I looking for?'
'There are around two hundred people there, survivors of the Consortium.'
'Well done, Al. I'll launch Blue Squadron to finish them off.'
'Not yet sir. I just need to know if there is any indication as to where they
might be.'
'Why?'
'I don't have time to explain, Commander. I'm leaving for there now. Could you
get your experts onto it and come up with possible locations.'
'Leaving? For Geneva? I can't let you do that, Al. Not without further
information.'
Al tossed the mic to the embarrassed corporal and gave rapid instructions. A
few moments later, Suzette was carried carefully downstairs, zipped up in her
sleeping bag. Gillian brought a case containing some hurriedly-packed clothes
and sat in the open bay next to Suzette. Martin Fisher strapped the stretcher
down and offered the safety harness to Gillian. Roger and Al carried a couple
of the crates to the gunship and climbed aboard.
Roger tossed the communicator to Georges. 'Can you hold the fort here?'
Georges nodded. 'Take Ramon. He is useful in a scrap if you should meet
trouble.'
'Hope we don't. But thanks. We'll be back.'
'Au-revoir, Monsieur Blackman.'
'Au-revoir,' replied Roger as the noise increased and the helicopter rose,
wobbled a little, and then dipped its nose, roaring off towards the
South-East, following the line of the valley. Just skimming the tops of the
lofty chestnut trees, they accelerated quickly and La Planque soon disappeared
behind them.
'I want to keep low,' clarified the pilot. 'In case they have radar.'
'Columbia to Major Slazinski. Come in. Over,' boomed the radio.
'Al here, Commander. Sorry to break off just then. This is a matter of life or
death.'
'Do you have the Blackman girl with you?'
Al looked at Suzette then Roger and said 'Affirmative, Commander.'
'Then your instructions are to bring her to Columbia, do you read? Over.'
The pilot looked over his shoulder at Al. Roger's finger curled around the
trigger of his Uzi machine-pistol.
'I'm sorry, Commander,' Al replied. 'Reception is bad. Could you repeat?
Over.'
'I said. Return to Columbia immediately. Do you read? Over.'
'Message not understood. Will try to contact you later. Over and out.'
Al looked at the pilot. 'Well. What are you waiting for? Let's get the hell to
Geneva before all the nice girls go to bed.'
'It will take some time, Major, following these valleys.'
'Forget the secrecy, we don't have time now. Take to the hills, boy, before
our revered leader realises he's been had.'
Instinctively, the helicopter rose like an eagle on a thermal and veered to
port. Small, green valleys criss-crossed the landscape below them as they
roared North-Eastwards crossing the Gardon after a few minutes and then,
later, descending into the upper Ardèche valley. Within an hour, they had
reached the Rhône and the valley echoed with the sounds of the whirring rotors
and whining turbo-drive.
~~~~~


KNIGHT TO BISHOP SEVEN

WEDNESDAY 18th AUGUST - 1840 hrs.
In the Rhône Valley, just north of Valence, the Fourtrack pulled in under the
trees as the helicopter roared overhead, seemingly intent on reaching its
destination quickly.
'Phew, that was close,' said Jim, watching the dark shape quickly disappearing
up the wide valley.
'Do you think they saw us?' asked Marianne nervously.
'I don't think so,' murmured Philippe, clambering out and peering from under
the low branch. 'I wonder where he is going in such a hurry.'
'Looking for us?' ventured Jim.
'Not at that speed. If we were being hunted, there would be several of them,
flying slowly in a search pattern.'
They waited for several minutes but no more came.
'Good job we weren't on the Autoroute. We'd have been spotted for sure.'
They had attempted to cross the Rhône south of the town of Orange but the
river bridge was down and they had been forced to keep on the west bank
through Banyols and up to Pont St Esprit. There, they found that, although the
modern bridges all seemed to have suffered, the old stone bridge across the
river, built centuries ago by friars, still remained intact. Unfortunately,
modern architecture had again suffered and, six kilometres to the east, the
canal bridge lay in ruins. From there, they had been forced to drive northward
over Isle Margeries and then back across the rubber-matted Rhône suspension
bridge near the Defile de Donzère.
'You look tired, Philippe,' offered Louis. 'Do you want me to drive for a
while?'
'D'accord,' said the younger man. 'We'll keep going for another hour or so and
then we must find somewhere to spend the night. I don't fancy driving on these
unlit roads at in the dark, not while they are so littered with abandoned
vehicles.
'We'll head straight for Lyon,' said Louis, climbing into the driver's seat.
'There will be somewhere there we can stay. Also, there is bound to be a place
to cross the river.'
'It is narrowest there,' remarked Marianne. 'After the Rhône and Saône split,
we can at least take the river in two bites.'
'Of course, you are right,' said Louis with a knowing glance at Philippe who
nodded.
~~~~~

WEDNESDAY 18th AUGUST - 1900 hrs.
The helicopter banked to the right as it passed over the ruined city of Lyon,
great office blocks flattened by the blast which had clearly originated in the
province of Villebanne, totally devastating an area of many square miles. It
was also clear that fire and radiation had obliterated all signs of life for a
long way further out. Lyon was a ghost town.
'At least the bridges in Perrache and Guillotière survived,' noted Ramon.
'You know the city well?' asked Gillian, surprised by the sudden attempt at
conversation from the youth who had barely spoken a word since they had met.
'My family are from Lyon.'
'I'm sorry,' said Gillian, her hand on his arm.
'Not all parts have been obliterated,' pointed Roger. 'The parts in the gorge
along the river were obviously protected from the main blast. Wow! That was
some bomb that did that.'
They passed over the initial crater which looked around four kilometres across
and very deep.
'A ground burst,' clarified Roger. 'Probably caused a lot of fallout around
the area, depending on which way the wind was blowing.'
'Too early for Mistral,' pondered Ramon. 'So the wind will have likely been
towards the north. The vineyards will have perished.'
He looked sad and Gillian suddenly had a terrible notion. Perhaps the
destruction of the grape-laden vines meant more to him than the deaths of many
millions of people. She shuddered at the thought.
~~~~~
WEDNESDAY 18th AUGUST - 2000 hrs.
The Fourtrack stopped at the airport to the east of the city and pulled in
beside an intact building that looked as if it had once been a hotel. No-one
greeted them as they arrived outside and nothing disturbed the deathly silence
as they stepped down and Jim pushed open the front door. Marianne canonned
into him as he turned.
'Don't go inside,' he said, blocking the doorway. 'Let's try over there.'
'Bodies?' she asked, her hand on her chest.
Jim nodded and looked very ill indeed. 'A young couple, it looked like. On
honeymoon by the look of their luggage.'
'Oh, no,' said Marianne sadly and Jim put his arm around her shoulders while
she shook.
'Let's try to find empty rooms,' suggested Philippe.
'You may have to go in there for keys,' warned Jim. 'Be careful, it's not
pretty.'
'Fairly instant though,' mused Louis, as if that made it all right.
After trying several rooms, they finally found two without occupation.
Marianne lay down on her back on the big double bed, exhausted, while Jim
brought in the bags.
'I'd like someone to stay with me,' begged Marianne quietly.
'Are you sure?' asked Philippe.
She nodded. 'You've been driving so you can have the bed if you like. I don't
mind sleeping on the settee.'
'It's a double bed,' joked Louis, rolling onto the bed beside her while
Philippe went to look for water.
Marianne looked puzzled and then wary as Louis' hand first rested on her flat
stomach and then began to toy with the buckle of her belt.
Marianne turned her head and looked straight into his eyes. 'Roger would kill
you.'
'Only if he caught me,' he said, trying to tug the tee-shirt out of her
denims.
The door opened. 'No, Louis,' said Philippe, pointing his revolver at Louis'
face. 'This is not the time. Get in the other room.'
Louis let go of her and she re-covered herself as Jim walked in and dropped
the bags. Begrudgingly, Louis stood and then went through the doorway,
followed by Philippe.
Jim sat on the bed. 'Want me to stay?'
She nodded. 'Please,' she said, patting the bed beside her.
'I'll use the armchair. And before you say anything, it's not Roger I'm
worried about, it's Gill.'
They laughed together as a frantic row broke out in the other room.
'Thieves falling out,' Jim murmured.
'Why do you say that?'
'Oh, nothing. Just remembering something Gill said before we left.'
Marianne looked startled. 'Do you think they're up to something?'
'Probably. But we'll worry about it when we've been to Geneva, collected this
doctor fellow and made sure Suzette is all right.'
'I suppose you're right. It's the most important thing to us all right now.'
~~~~~
THE helicopter continued to race up the Rhône valley and, gradually, the trees
and villages began to look more normal as they got further from the blast
zone.
The Major tried the radio. 'Al Slazinski to Columbia. Do you read? Over.'
'Columbia receiving, loud and clear. Where are you, Al?'
'Approaching Geneva now, Commander.'
'What the hell are you doing at Geneva, Al? I told you to return to base.'
'No time to explain, sir. Just believe me when I say it's for the best.'
'We'll discuss that when you return, Major. What is it that you want?'
'The information from the photographs of Geneva.'
Commander Jakes reluctantly agreed and gave him the information he required.
The Major thanked his Commanding Officer and gave the pilot instructions.
~~~~~
THURSDAY 19th AUGUST - 0100 hrs.
Marianne stirred restlessly as the moonlight shone in through the open
curtains. Somewhere, she heard snoring; the only sound to disturb the stark
silence. Suddenly, she was wide awake and, gently, she lifted the duvet to one
side and got softly to her feet. Pulling the bottom of her long tee-shirt
down, she tiptoed, barefoot, to the window, and looked out. Near to the
Fourtrack, a darker shape moved, clearly outlined in the moonlight. Without
thinking of any danger, she reached for the knob of the door but, as the
handle began to turn, a powerful arm wrapped itself around her waist from
behind. She opened her mouth to scream but another hand closed firmly over her
mouth, stifling the sound.
As she struggled, she realised there was something in the hand, something
which smelt sweet, something which made her mind swim and drift in and out of
consciousness. Gradually, her knees sagged. She fought bravely but sluggishly
and, inevitably, lost the battle as a deep darkness came over her.
~~~~~
THURSDAY 19th AUGUST - 0500 hrs.
The lights in the room were bright as Dr Karl Mitzen gently ran his fingers
over Suzette's back while she lay on the table in front of him. The walls of
the room were clean and bright, the curtains pulled back to reveal the sun
rising over Lac Leeman and glistening off the snow on the far slopes which ran
down to it.
'Try again,' he said to his colleague who carefully lifted her arms and pulled
them above her head, gripping her firmly under the arms while another doctor
held onto her ankles. Together, under Karl Mitzen's directions, they carefully
stretched and massaged, eased and probed, pushed and pulled, until the Doctor
was thoroughly satisfied.
'Turn her over,' he said, delicately draping a towel across her lower abdomen.
'What a mess,' he commented as the assistants made her comfortable while Karl
Mitzen examined her belly carefully. 'You did right in bringing her to me.'
Her brother nodded. 'We had no choice.'
'And the LaFleche woman did this?'
Roger nodded again. 'With the barrel of a shotgun.'
'That woman is mad,' he said without looking up from Suzette's stomach which
he was probing gently with his long fingers.
'That woman is dead,' contradicted Roger.
The specialist smiled. 'Then perhaps now we shall all get some peace. That
woman thought of no-one but herself.' He looked at Suzette, looking so young
and innocent before him. 'Is this young lady important to you?'
'She is my sister.' Roger looked down at the polished floor. 'I love her very
much.'
'Well, Monsieur, as far as I can tell, your sister will probably live. My best
estimate of her condition is that three of the vertebrae are damaged, but not
irreparably. With complete rest for a week or two, the cracks in the bones
will heal and she will be able to get about fairly normally.'
'She will walk?'
'She is able to walk now, but I wouldn't recommend it for a couple of days.
Any undue lateral strain or exercise could do considerable damage to her
spinal column - permanent damage.'
'And her stomach?'
The doctor glanced up from his ministrations. 'I can tell you are not familiar
with the human anatomy, Monsieur Blackman. The stomach is very high, close to
the rib cage. The bruising is on her abdomen, the part of her body which
contains the parts to do with digestion and reproduction. If this amount of
damage had been inflicted higher up her body, she would not be still alive.'
'Corrine LaFleche said she didn't want to kill Suzette outright, she wanted to
hurt her as much as possible first, to damage her insides without actually
causing death.'
'She certainly achieved that.'
'Then she...'
'There will, inevitably, be some internal damage, possibly haemorrhaging. It
is far too early to ascertain the precise extent of the damage to the internal
organs and I don't want to have to go inside unless I have to. I would rather
keep her under constant observation for a while and then act as necessary.'
'You feel there is reason for concern?'
'I'd rather not commit myself until I am more sure. On the basis of my initial
examination, the most likely damage will have been either to her ovaries or
kidneys.'
'How soon will we know for sure?'
'With the kidneys, we'll have a fair idea in a few days. As far as her ovaries
are concerned, ask me again nine months after she is married.'
'You have been very honest, doctor. I appreciate it.'
'Don't mention it.' He pulled the sheet up to cover Suzette's limp form,
nodding to the others that they were dismissed. 'Tell me, Monsieur. Do you
have a girl of your own?'
'Yes, I do. She is on her way here with Louis and Philippe. She is quite
safe.'
'Do you think so?'
A sudden, stark fear ran through Roger's whole being. 'What do you mean?'
'It may be nothing. However, Louis gave us the impression that he would never
return here. He is certainly not welcome.'
'Not welcome?'
The Doctor looked up from his work. 'After what has happened? Without our
consent?'
'Without your consent? But I thought...'
'That's what you were meant to think, Monsieur. However, we were tricked just
as much as you were. I understand the leader was killed at Mandagout.'
'Yes. I killed Monsieur le Directeur myself.'
He turned sharply. 'Monsieur le Directeur? But he was not the leader.'
Roger's heart dropped through his boots and was halfway to Australia. 'Not the
leader? Then who...?'
'I don't know. I met him only once and do not know his name.'
'Would you describe him?'
The doctor pondered for a moment.
'Thirty-ish. Tall. Dark-hair,' he said as he removed his rubber gloves.
'Moustache. Otherwise fairly normal.'
'That description would fit a dozen frenchmen we've met. What do you know
about his life? His work?'
'I remember him once saying that he had dreamed up the whole idea after his
wife had been killed by terrorists. He was very bitter about it.'
'Where was this?'
'In Beruit, he told us. He was assigned to the French Embassy there. He was
very young and his wife was just nineteen when she died. Ever since then, he
has had this kind of irrepressible mania about girls who are of that age.'
He pushed open the door and they walked in to the lounge where the others
waited for news. Gillian poured them coffee.
'It all seems so unbelievable,' she said after Roger had brought them
up-to-date with what the doctor had told him. 'To start a war, cause the death
of millions of innocent people and destroy so much just for some sort of
revenge. Louis gave Suzette the impression that the motives of the Consortium
were to do with business and ridding Europe of corrupt government.'
'He would, wouldn't he? Hitler tried that. Kill millions in war, murder Jews
and children in concentration camps and for what? To make the world a better
place for people to live in, or so he said.'
'And this leader is like that, you think?'
'Certainly. During the brief period he was here in Genève, he used to sicken
us by boasting about some of the terrible atrocitiess he has inflicted upon
young women.'
'He sounds quite a nut case.'
'Précisement. None are safe as he sees them as a kind of replacement, a
ransom, for his dead wife. He is a sick man who, I believe, rapes and
mutilates these girls in an attempt to bring back his own wife. Your English
Jack the Ripper was an angel of mercy alongside that evil man.'
'It certainly sounds like it.'
The doctor smiled. 'Let's change the subject. Tell me, Monsieur Blackman. How
old is this girl of yours?'
'Marianne?' Roger calculated. 'She is...,' his smile faded, '...nineteen.'
Then it is a good thing she has this... Philippe... to protect her.'
~~~~~




BLACK KING TO QUEEN ONE

THURSDAY 19th AUGUST - 0700 hrs.
Marianne woke slowly, feeling dreadful. Gingerly, she opened one eye and
instantly wished she hadn't. For some reason, the room was being spun around
at a thousand revolutions per minute and she was in grave fear of being thrown
off her bed. After a few minutes, she tried again with the same result
although the spinning did seem a little steadier. Gradually, as her senses got
better, the room slowed down and finally stabilized. She felt awful.
Carefully, she looked around the room and saw that she was alone, tucked up in
her duvet as if nothing had happened. The bathroom door stood open and so, bit
by bit, she inched out of the bed, swinging her bare legs to the floor.
It was a mistake. She fell to the floor to prevent herself being spun off the
revolving room and laid her head on the edge of the bed until it stopped
again. Eventually, on hands and knees, she made her way to the bathroom where
she was violently sick. Groaning, she lay propped up against the bathroom
wall, her face over the toilet bowl, until the entire contents of her stomach
were on way to the sewers. Did it really happen, she thought to herself?
Tentatively, she ran a hand all over her body and it felt as if she was still
in one piece. It must have been some kind of a bad dream, she thought. It was
then that she realised that one item of her clothing was missing. It had not
been a dream, not even a nightmare. What had happened? Her heart beat
frantically as she tried to sit up but groaned at the dizziness and sat down
again. There was a soft knocking at the door and her hands instinctively went
around her body.
'Marianne,' came the quiet voice. 'It's me, Jim. Are you all right?'
A flood of relief washed over her as she moved her legs to allow the door to
open.
Jim looked down in horror. 'Good grief, Marianne. You look terrible. What have
you done?'
What should she say? That she felt as if she had been raped? 'I've been ill.
It must have been something I ate.'
He reached out his hands to her. 'Let's get you back to bed. You'll feel
better there.'
Gently, he helped her to her feet and half carried her into the bedroom and
tucked her into bed.
'Drink?'
She nodded. 'S'il tu plait.'
Marianne watched Jim carefully as he plugged in the kettle, got the
ingredients from a carrier bag they had brought with them and set about making
coffee.
'I don't suppose that coffee is the best thing for an upset stomach. But it
will take away the taste.'
He picked up her denims from the floor and laid them across the bed. 'I'd get
dressed if I were you before the others return.'
'Have they gone out?'
'Just gone to reconnoitre. They'll be back soon. I managed to get a look into
the Fourtrack last night but I could see no signs of anything suspicious.
Maybe we're imagining all the intrigue.'
'Jim,' she said carefully, her hands on his arms. 'Whatever happens, promise
me you'll stay with me. Don't leave me.'
He sat on the bed beside her. 'Of course I won't. How could I?'
'Thanks. I don't expect you to understand.'
He kissed her forehead. 'I might just be a mere man but I'm not completely
insensitive.'
She sat up and put her hand on his. 'Jim. You're a good friend.'
The sounds of a vehicle approaching made Jim look up and he went over to the
window.
'They're back,' he observed but Marianne was not listening. Instead, she was
rummaging in her bag beside the bed. Eventually, she found what she was
looking for and was smiling a welcome as Philippe walked in the door, a
cheerful look on his face. Louis followed him inside but could not look her in
the eyes. So now she knew. She would wait until Louis had served his purpose
by getting the doctor for Suzette and, when that purpose had been fulfilled,
that horrible little man was going to die. She was certain she would be doing
the whole world a very great favour.
~~~~~
THURSDAY 19th AUGUST - 0800 hrs.
The Fourtrack drove steadily northwards along the Autoroute du Soleil,
descending from the foothills of the Mont d'Or. Jim looked relaxed but
Marianne was puzzled. 'Aren't we going a long way north?'
Louis, beside Philippe in the front, smiled. 'Nowhere to cross the river, ma
cherie. That's why Philippe and I went out this morning, to check on the
bridges. It looks as if we might have to go right up to Macon or even Tournas
before we can cross the Saône.'
Marianne offered no more comments as they roared along the motorway, the city
of Lyon now far behind them. Ruined vineyards stretched along the sides of the
valley. Just a short time ago, Côtes du Rhône was a byword among connoisseurs
of good wines. Now, as withered vine stalks poked their heads through the
barren soil, it would be a long time before that would again be true. The
river came into sight on their right as they neared Villefranche-sur-Saône.
'A bridge!' called Marianne, pointing excitedly. 'We can get across.'
The Fourtrack slowed as it neared the turning to the bridge but then
accelerated again.
 'Doesn't look safe to me,' judged Louis. 'What do you think, Philippe?'
'Definitely not. Cracks all over it.'
Marianne looked to Jim for support. 'I didn't see any cracks. Did you, Jim?'
Before Jim could answer, Louis turned in his seat and faced her. 'Believe me,
Marianne. I know what's best for us.'
Suddenly, she saw it all. 'You're not going to Genève, are you? You have no
intention of getting help for Suzette.'
'She's a clever girl, isn't she, Philippe?'
'Too bad, Louis,' remarked Philippe, his eyes never leaving the road ahead.
'What's going on?' asked Jim. 'Where are we going?'
'Can't you guess?'
'But...but Suzette,' cried Marianne, desperately trying to get through to
Philippe. 'What are you going to do about Suzette? You can't let her die. Not
now. You love her, don't you?'
She looked into the rear view mirror and his blue-grey eyes met hers. A cold
finger touched the base of her spine and crawled slowly upwards as he smiled.
'Suzette? Suzette who?'
~~~~~
THURSDAY 19th AUGUST - 1200 hrs.
The atmosphere was relaxed in the house overlooking the lake at Geneva. Al,
Martin and Roger sat ready for lunch while Gillian finished cooking the meal
and Ramon honed the edge of his machete. Karl Mitzen walked in the door and
pulled up a chair. 'That smells good.'
'Spaghetti Bolognese a la Newmarket,' announced Gillian with a flourish. 'I
hope you like pseudo-Italian food.'
'With the border just a few kilometres away? I have little choice.'
'How's Suzette?'
'Much better. Her colour seems to have returned a little and her face seems
much better already. The cut on her head is healing nicely.'
'I wonder where Philippe and Louis have got to,' observed Roger. 'They are
long overdue.'
'Perhaps the passes are blocked,' said Karl.
'The ones we came over looked okay,' said Gillian. 'There were a few abandoned
vehicles but nothing too serious.'
'Then where are they?'
'They're not coming,' said the voice from the doorway.
'Suzette,' called Gillian almost dropping the bowl of Spaghetti. She rushed to
her friend's side, guiding her to a chair, pulling the sheet she was wearing
more tightly around her body to keep her warm. 'You shouldn't be up.'
'I agree, Mademoiselle Blackman,' scolded the doctor. 'I am glad to see you
are better but you must rest. It is very dangerous for you to be on your feet
right now.'
'I've been so stupid,' was all Suzette would say as if in a daze.
'Stupid? What do you mean?' asked her brother.
'I trusted Louis. I should have known better.' She looked around her. 'Where
are we?' she asked and Roger explained about the journey to Geneva, the
examination results, the missing Fourtrack.
Suzette started to cry. 'Oh, no. Not Marianne. Poor Marianne.'
'What do you mean?' asked the alarmed Roger. 'You must tell us.'
'They are not coming here. They never were. I see it all so clearly now.'
'See what?' asked Gillian.
'What this is all about. Why couldn't I have seen it earlier?'
'May I make a suggestion?' interrupted Doctor Mitzen. 'Give her something to
eat, Miss Green. When we have all eaten, we can discuss this in detail.'
'No,' cried Suzette frantically, trying to stand. 'There is no time. I must
leave.'
'Leave?' queried Roger, holding his sister down in her chair. 'To where?'
'To find them.'
'But why? Where can they go?'
'To get control of Princess.'
Major Slazinski jumped at the mention of the name and leant forward in his
seat. 'Princess? What do you know about Princess?'
Suzette looked confused. 'You know about Princess, Al. I explained at
Laroque.'
'I know about Princess. What I don't know is how you expect this Louis feller
to be able to get control of her.'
'Why, the tracking station, of course.'
'But it is guarded,' he said, slowly coming to the conclusion that he must
have missed something important along the line. 'No-one can get access to
Princess now.'
'But he can. Don't you see? There is another tracking station.'
The silence lasted a long time.
'Where?' Roger finally asked.
'I should have known at once but I didn't want to believe the evidence that
was staring me in the face.'
'Suzette, stop talking in riddles and tell us what this is all about. Where
has Louis gone?'
'He has gone to Rouen.'
'Rouen?' exclaimed Gillian. 'But the tracking station at Rouen was destroyed.'
'Who said so?'
'The Directeur.'
'He saw what he was supposed to see, an explosion in Northern France.'
'And what about Philippe? He arranged the detonation.'
'He arranged the detonation all right, but not at the tracking station. I
should have known when he mentioned the helicopter. If the bomb had gone off
at Rouen, it would have been destroyed.'
'But he couldn't have been mistaken, surely. Not that mistaken.'
'Mistaken? No, he wasn't mistaken. He arranged it.'
They were now all thoroughly confused.
'I feel such an idiot. All along, while I've been looking for rebels, he's
been laughing at me.'
'Louis, you mean?'
'Louis? No, not Louis.'
'Then who?' asked Roger.
'Philippe. Don't you see? He's one of them.'
'But that's not possible,' said Gillian. 'He helped to defeat them.'
'After they had served their purpose and no longer essential to him.'
'And he saved your life,' observed Roger.
'Because he needed me. I was the only one who could operate the equipment
until he could find one of his own people to take over.'
'Then he can't operate the computer? What good is Princess without you?'
'He doesn't need me any more.'
'Then how..?'
'He's got Jim now.'
'Jim's not one of them, surely,' said Gillian incredulously.
'No. Jim's not one of them. Poor Jim, caught up in all this.'
'Jim won't help them. Not if they offered him the whole world.'
'They won't do that,' said Karl.
'No, doctor,' agreed Suzette. 'He wouldn't fall for that one and that's why I
have to go. I got Jim into this in the first place, I must get him out of it.'
'But how? If he won't help them what will they do?'
'But don't you see? Jim will help them. He has no choice.'
'Why?'
'They have Marianne. Somehow, I can't see Jim sitting back, impassively, while
the two of them take it in turns to cut pieces off her.'
'They wouldn't do that,' said Roger, barely controlling himself.
Suzette stood up and put her arms around his neck. 'Brother, dear brother. You
may be very clever at technical things but you have a lot to learn about human
nature. All of a sudden, our Marianne has become a toy, something for them to
play with at will and to use as a mere pawn.'
'Pawn?'
'Bait, for me, if it were to become known that I have survived.'
'And if you hadn't?'
'To put pressure on Jim.'
'Excuse me,' interrupted Karl Mitzen. 'What does this Philippe look like?'
'I have a photo,' said Suzette. 'Where are my things?'
'Here,' said Gillian, holding up a bag containing a few clothes and personal
belongings.
Suzette rummaged and finally produced a folder. Extracting a single
photograph, she held it out to the doctor who sat down, his head in his hands.
'What is it?' Suzette asked.
'It's him.'
A knife seemed to stab deep into Roger's heart and began to twist.
'H..h..him?'
'The man who came here. The leader.'
'Then...'
'Then it will already be too late.'
'Too late?' asked Suzette.
'For your Marianne. She will probably be far beyond our help by now.'
'But how?'
Between them, Roger and Karl told her what they knew and tears dribbled down
Suzette's cheeks.
'Then we must leave immediately.'
'Now?' said the doctor.
'Before he starts on her. He will not damage her too severely until he has
used her to persuade Jim to set up the computer.'
'You are right, Mademoiselle. They may use her, abuse her, torture her even,
but they will not put her out of her misery until they have complete control
of Princess.'
'And then?'
'Checkmate! Her life will not be worth one centime.'
'Nor Jim's,' observed Gillian.
'No,' said Al Slazinski, getting slowly to his feet, remembering the extent of
the power Princess controlled. 'Nor will anyone else's.'
~~~~~




QUEEN TO BLACK KING

THURSDAY 19th AUGUST - 1500 hrs.
The Fourtrack drew up in front of the double garage doors of the tracking
station and Louis pulled out an infra-red, remote-control device. Punching the
button, he watched the big, steel shutters roll up and into the roof to admit
them. After driving forward into the garage, Philippe turned off the engine
and stretched.
'You can get out now,' he told his passengers. 'However, if you try to do
anything silly, Louis will shoot you in the leg. For a short time, we need you
alive, so behave yourselves.'
Jim and Marianne said nothing as they clambered out, stiff after the long
journey.
'This way,' indicated Louis, waving the revolver towards the far doorway.
Jim glanced at the big door closing behind them, at the movement sensors that
warned of approach, at the big door leading to the main control room.
In other circumstances, Marianne might have been impressed by the amount of
hardware in that room. However, under the present circumstances, she was more
concerned with seeking a way to escape.
'Put her in there,' Philippe ordered and Louis grabbed Marianne's arm.
Jim made to move towards her but was halted by Philippe's pistol.
'Don't be a hero, my friend. It is not Louis that you should be worrying
about. He won't hurt her. He wants her for himself. If you are a good boy,
I'll give her to him as a replacement for Corrine.'
'And if I don't co-operate?'
'She can be yet another replacement for my wife.'
'For your wife? The one who was killed by terrorists?'
'Precisely. I see you remember our little conversation well.'
'I believed you.'
'But I told you the truth. I said I had not made love to any woman since she
died. I did not lie. In fact, it is still true.'
'Then...?'
'When I married my Liselle, she was pure, a vierge. You understand the word?'
Jim nodded, wondering where the conversation was leading.
'We were still on honeymoon and I had been busy. She died before I touched
her. Since then, I cannot bear to find a girl of that age without feeling
anger. Have you never wanted to use a woman? To abuse and hurt her? To slowly
take her to pieces so that no-one can use her again?'
'You're mad,' observed the shocked Jim.
'Mad? Do you know the meaning of the word? It is the others who are mad, the
ones who killed my Liselle.'
'The terrorists?'
'Oh no. They were the ones who laid the bomb. But the ones who are to blame
are the others; the Americans who knew of the terrorists but did nothing to
stop them from killing; the Russians who supplied them with arms.'
'But you are French. It is the French nation which has suffered the most.'
'It is they who are most to blame. They ran the military hospital in Beruit
and Liselle was taken there, dying. They refused to help her, saying the
hospital was full and was for service personnel only. They sent us to the
Israeli garrison to the south but she died before we reached it. The Americans
and Russians were guilty but the main blame lay with the French. They killed
my wife. She was just nineteen and I loved her.'
'I'm sorry,' said Jim.
'Sorry? I don't want your pity. Your British troops were with the UN peace
force there and they held us up at the frontier, unnecessarily questioning me
about where I was going and the like while Liselle was dying in the back of
the car. You are finished, all of you.'
'What are you going to do?'
'I am going to completely wipe out America, Russia and Britain like I have
already destroyed France and neither you nor anyone else is going to stop me.
Do you hear?'
The face was not that of a sane person and Jim had little alternative but to
nod. Philippe smiled. 'So you understand. I knew you would.' He put an arm
around Jim's shoulders. 'Now you must come and help me.'
Jim hesitated but the look in Philippe's eyes warned him against protest.
Perhaps later, though he had no idea how.
~~~~~
LOUIS finished tying Marianne firmly to the bunk bed and then smiled.
'Struggling will only bring you pain, dearest Marianne. I would lay still if I
were you. If Jim does as he is told, you will be well-treated, I promise. If
he doesn't...' He shrugged and left, locking the airtight door.
Marianne looked around at the stark room. The bed had been stripped of sheets
and she had been tied, spread-eagle, across the bed with no slack. She
observed her bag close by. Close but too far away. Raising her eyes, she
noticed the closed-circuit TV camera in the corner of the room, pointing
straight at her. There was a faint hum of fans and a slight draught from the
air-conditioning unit. She was stuck and now realised, for the first time,
that it was not Louis who had grabbed her during the early hours. It was not
his hands which had removed her most intimate item of clothing and then
examined and molested her. It had been Philippe.
~~~~~
THURSDAY 19th AUGUST - 1600 hrs.
It was a waste of time talking to Suzette. They had ordered, pleaded, reasoned
but she ignored them all and walked around the table, now fully dressed,
discussing the plan of attack.
'We could just destroy the tracking station,' offered Ramon.
'With Jim and Marianne inside?' said Gillian. 'Don't be crazy.'
'But if what Major Slazinski told us is true about the potential destructive
power of Princess, would it not be worth the sacrifice?'
'Only as a last resort,' said Suzette. 'If all else fails, we may have to
consider that. But not yet.'
'What if we use the element of surprise to attack them?' offered Roger.
'No good,' said Suzette. 'Princess will see us coming by our heat output
unless we walked there. There would be no surprise.'
'Describe this place,' said Al.
'It's on three floors,' said Gillian. 'The top level is, in fact, at ground
level. Outwardly, it looks like any other office building. It contains stores,
garage and reception.'
'Above that?'
'Nothing, just a flat roof with the tracking dish on top, surrounded by a low
parapet.'
'And what is below?'
'On the middle floor is the security room. Closed-circuit TV monitors from the
cameras on posts around the perimeter.'
'So it's not possible to sneak up on them?'
'Out of the question as there are infra-red sensors around the grounds. If
anyone approaches, lights come on automatically and a warning sounds inside.'
'Can't we cut off their power?'
'Internal generator.'
'Smoke them out?'
'Self-cleansing air conditioning plant. The place was designed to survive an
all-out nuclear attack. In fact, it did, didn't it?'
'The bottom floor?'
'The main control centre. Computer, CADE terminals, printers, screens. Just
equipment.'
'Access routes?'
'Pardon?'
'Ways in an out.'
'Oh, yes. Front door into reception. Garage door at the back.'
'Aha!'
'Remote-controlled, pre-stressed steel roller-shutter.'
'Oh.'
'And roof access,' pondered Suzette.
'Roof access?'
'Yes, don't you remember, Gill? Philippe and I used it to check on the dish
mechanism. Just a small hatch at the back of the garage for maintenance.'
'How would we get to it?'
'We'd have to get onto the roof first and that won't be easy, not with all
those cameras about.'
'And they'll see us on the roof, I expect,' said Roger.
'No,' said Gillian. 'When Suzette had her row with Philippe on the roof, we
couldn't see them. The cameras are designed to keep a watch on the perimeter
and won't pan far enough to sweep the building itself.'
'Are you sure?'
'Perfectly. We tried when Suzette was on the roof and they wouldn't go that
far round. Something to do with the power cables not being long enough.'
'Then it's the roof or nothing,' said Al. 'I'll get the pilot to land on the
roof.'
'Not that simple,' said Suzette. 'They'll see you coming on the tracking
screen and know what you're up to. They could then either shoot the hostages
or Philippe will remember the roof access and guard it. If they shut the inner
doors, there is no way to flush them out. It's totally secure and, while we're
knocking on the front door, they can simply press buttons and destroy people.'
'Then we have to find a way to distract them,' said Roger.
'That's what I thought.'
'What had you got in mind?' her brother asked with trepidation.
'You simply fly up to the door and drop me off. Jim is not as experienced as I
am with Princess so they would be very silly to turn down a chance of getting
their hands on me.'
'Then what will he do?'
'He will open the door and let me in. When he does, you can get in, too.'
'It won't be that easy,' said Roger. 'But I think I can see a close
alternative.'
'Then let's go.'
'You're not going anywhere,' said Karl. 'You're not well enough, yet.'
'Maybe not,' said Suzette. 'But you just try and stop me.'
~~~~~
THURSDAY 19th AUGUST - 1800 hrs.
Jim's fingers moved over the keyboard as the screens flashed and data flowed.
He saw no harm in setting up the information bank. If only he could remember
what Suzette had said about the declination angle, maybe he could corrupt the
data somehow. From time to time, he looked at the monitor on the wall and saw
Marianne strapped down in the tiny bunk room. Philippe watched him closely as
he fed in the codes and re-aligned the dish to receive the stream of data from
Princess.
'Don't get it wrong, will you?' warned Philippe. 'It will be Marianne who will
suffer.'
'I won't get it wrong.'
'Just in case, I will give you a small demonstration.'
He went to a small panel touched a few buttons. Nothing happened, as far as he
could see, for several seconds. Then as they watched the screen, Marianne
began to writhe on her bunk, straining at the bonds which held her. As Jim
watched, her nose began to bleed, then her ears as she fought, wide-eyed, with
some unknown force which was tearing her apart. Philippe touched the volume
knob and the sounds of her screaming made Jim wince and then shake.
'Stop!' he said. 'No more, please. I'll help.'
Philippe deliberately allowed the sound to go on for a further few seconds
before he touched a button and Marianne relaxed and fought for breath as the
screaming died away with the struggling.
'What did you do?' asked Jim.
'Simple,' grinned the sadistic Frenchman. 'From this panel, I control the air
pressure throughout the whole building. The system is designed to economise,
if necessary, by draining unused rooms of air and concentrating it in here. I
simply switched the pumps to evacuate the air from the bunkroom. Pressure
drops and anyone in there.... dies.'
'Suffocates?'
'Oh, no. Not enough time. A normal person can hold his breath for around two
minutes. However, these pumps can drain a room of that size in under a minute.
The human body has an internal pressure of one kilogramme per square
centimetre so, without the external air pressure to hold it together, Marianne
simply... bursts, explodes all over the room.'
Jim said nothing. He knew it had to be true because he had just seen Marianne
suffer. He felt sick as he turned back to the controls; all thoughts of
rebellion driven from him by that terrible screaming.
~~~~~
THURSDAY 19th AUGUST - 2200 hrs.
Doctor Mitzen watched with sadness as the helicopter rose into the air while
the sun dipped below the mountains. It was an impossible task, no longer
simply a case of rescuing two people, but now one of saving the world from a
madman. Somehow, it reminded him of the James Bond films he had seen as a
younger man. Never would he have believed such a thing could happen in real
life. All the men were dressed in combat suits with blackened faces, Gillian
among them. She carried no arms, of course, but was going as radio operator.
Al and Martin checked their automatic rifles while Ramon honed his already
razor-sharp machete. Roger fiddled with Diablos. Few would have recognised
Suzette dressed in that mini-skirt and low-cut, sleeveless beach blouse and
with her dark hair bleached almost white and then cut short in a boyish style.
She only hoped that Karl had remembered it right.
After about twenty-minutes, they saw the Autoroute and followed the course of
the main road North-Westwards, towards Paris. The towns of Avallon, Auxerre
and Nemours fell behind them as darkness began to fall. The lake beside the
palace at Fontainbleau passed below them as they neared the dark blur where
Paris had been. Gone were the familiar landmarks and not a solitary light
shone from the devastated city. It was dark as they left the city, following
the glint of the Seine as it ran towards the sea.
'Five minutes,' called the pilot.
'You all know what to do?' checked Al. 'We only get one shot at this.'
Roger and Martin nodded. Ramon smiled. Gillian swallowed and tightened the
straps around her shoulders. Suzette winked mischievously.
'Good luck, people,' said Al as the outskirts of Rouen came into sight.
~~~~~

THURSDAY 23rd AUGUST - 2330 hrs.
Jim couldn't conceal the data that flowed in, Philippe knew too much about the
system.
'Heat source approaching from the South-East,' he announced glumly.
'So I see,' Philippe murmured. 'I was getting worried about whether you were
going to tell me.'
'I did promise.'
'So you did. Who are they?'
Jim shrugged. 'I don't know. They're in AX so they must be airborne. At the
speed they are travelling, I would suggest a helicopter.'
'Aren't you sure?'
'Suzette is better at this than me. I was only her assistant at Cambridge.'
'I know that, remember? It was me who saved you from the Russians.'
Jim did remember. If he knew what he knew now, he would have willingly gone
with the Russians.
'Where is it headed?'
'Here, I think. There is nowhere else.'
'Keep watching and report its every movement.' He pressed a button which kept
him in contact with the middle floor. 'Louis? Helicopter approaching, keep an
eye on the closed-circuit TV screens.'
'D'accord,' said the intercom. 'I'll turn the external floodlights on.'
'No,' said Philippe. 'Just in case it's just passing over. Keep all lights out
until we're sure it is landing here.'
'Understood.'
There were several tense moments as the helicopter slowly passed low overhead
and then hovered above the wide car-park. With a cloud of dust, it settled and
Louis hit the light switch and the area was flooded with brilliant light. For
several minutes, nothing happened as the rotors slowed and then a lone figure
stepped down. With a roar, the helicopter rose into the air once more and then
banked off towards the north. As the dust slowly settled he could see, in the
middle of the pool of intense light, a strange young woman.
'Philippe,' said the intercom. 'I think you'd better come up. One person got
out and she is now standing in the car park.'
'She? A woman?'
'A girl of about eighteen or nineteen.'
'I'm coming up,' Philippe said. He turned to Jim. 'Don't move from here and
don't forget to warn me if anything else happens.'
'I won't,' said Jim with a glance at the picture of Marianne in the monitor.
Philippe went up the steps two at a time and halted before the TV monitor for
the external camera. His face went as white as a sheet as he made a croaking
noise.
'It can't be,' was all Philippe said.
'Can't be what?'
'Liselle. It... it's my Liselle.'
'You're right it can't be, Philippe. She's dead. You told me so.'
'But she's there, outside.'
Louis looked suspicious and zoomed in one of the cameras. The figure did look
strangely familiar but he could not place it as he stared at the screen.
Philippe began to cry.
'Snap out of it, Philippe. It's a trick. It must be.'
'It's not. It's Liselle.' He stepped towards the door. 'I must go to her.'
'No,' said Louis pulling out his gun. 'It's a trick, I tell you.'
Before he could use it, Philippe snatched out his hand and grabbed the barrel,
twisting the revolver from the other man's grip.
'Watch him downstairs,' he commanded and turned away.
~~~~~
MARIANNE moved her arms and found she was not tied as securely as she had
been. Whatever it was that they had done to her, it had made her pull on the
bonds with a strength beyond normal and there was now a couple of inches of
movement. Tentatively, she moved the hand that was out of sight of the camera
and slowly worked it free. With relief, her left hand came out. Could they see
her? She had to risk it. With a lithe movement, she rolled over and stretched
for her bag but it was still out of reach. She rolled again and, this time,
her hand touched the canvas. On the third attempt, she had it in her hand. She
opened the bag and removed from just below the handle the object she had
located at the motel. It was nine inches in length, jewelled at one end, razor
sharp at the other, an heirloom from Lady Mary Beth de Bosvile.
~~~~~
THE five of them crouched on the roof where they had jumped as the helicopter
had passed over.
'You stay here,' Al told Gillian. 'I'll need you with the radio to call the
pilot back when we need him again. And keep out of sight.'
'Where do you want me?' asked Roger.
'You stay here with Martin. Only you can control Diablos. Ramon and I will try
to get inside.'
~~~~~
JIM looked up as Louis walked in and sat on the chair, facing him. On the
screen behind Louis, Jim saw a movement. He had to keep Louis talking, prevent
him looking at the screen.
'Who has arrived?' he asked innocently.
'Some woman. Philippe has gone to sort it out.'
'Anyone I know?' he asked as Marianne sliced through the bonds which held her
ankles, stood up and walked towards the door of the bunkroom.
~~~~~
PHILIPPE paused by the main door. Was it a trick? It could not be Liselle, he
told himself. Getting himself under control, he gripped the revolver firmly in
his hand. If it was a trick, she would die first. He walked towards the girl.
Roger peered over the edge of the roof as Martin raised his rifle.
'Not yet,' whispered Roger. 'He has a gun and might shoot Suzette if you
miss.'
'I never miss,' said the offended corporal.
'I don't doubt it but we also have to wait until Al and Ramon can get inside
to help Jim and Marianne.'
~~~~~
PHILIPPE stood a metre from Suzette, the gun pointed at her chest.
'Liselle?' he ventured, still not believing the evidence of his eyes.
'Of course, darling,' the girl said. 'Who did you think it was?'
He stepped closer then stopped, the barrel of his gun under the girl's chin.
'Mon Dieu,' he said, recognising Suzette at last. 'You've fooled me yet again.
I ought to shoot you, right here and now.'
'Go ahead. There are two automatic rifles aimed at you right this moment.
Shoot me and you will be dead before I hit the ground.'
He looked wildly around but could see nothing due to the glare of the
floodlights. 'I don't believe you.'
'Call it. I'm not indispensable any more. It's your move.'
'This is not a game, Suzette.'
'Of course it is. And what's more, I've won.'
'Not yet. I have one more move to make.'
'There are no more moves, Philippe. You are finished.'
'Louis has control of the computer and I have already had Jim pre-set the
self-destruct. If I don't return, Louis will arm the satellite and you know
what that means.'
Suzette looked at him and knew he could be telling the truth. She must stall
him for a while longer until the others could get inside and secure the
console.
~~~~~
JIM fought to keep his eyes averted from the empty screen. If Louis were to
turn now...
'I must go and see what is happening to Philippe,' said Louis. 'You'd better
walk in front of me so I can keep an eye on you.'
Jim stood and walked around the console so that Louis would have to keep his
eyes off the screen. It didn't work. Louis stopped and did a double-take. He
pressed buttons to move the camera but the room was bare. He pushed past Jim
and threw open the door and Marianne stood, framed, in the open doorway. Louis
reached out and grabbed her by her long, golden hair, dragging her into the
room. Marianne swung round and her hand came up fast and Louis grunted as the
long blade sank deep into his gut. He cried out and stepped back as she struck
again, blood flowing down his shirt front. Before she could strike a third
time, his left hand grabbed her dagger arm and his right hand encircled her
petite neck, slowly crushing the life out of her and repeatedly slamming her
head against the door frame. Jim moved forward to help but he was too late.
There was a sound like the chopping of a log and Louis stood, swaying slightly
and then, dropping Marianne's limp form, pitched forward, Ramon's machete
sticking out of the middle of his skull.
Louis fell down the bottom two steps into the control room and against the
tracking console. Jim watched in horror as Louis' eyes suddenly went wide and
he began to slide down the console and then seemed to deflate like a punctured
balloon as his life-blood ran all over the floor. With a last, supreme effort,
he reached out and pushed the red button.
~~~~~

PHILIPPE looked up as the siren started to wail across the empty car-park.
'He's done it without my command,' he stammered. 'Louis has started the
self-destruct sequence.'
'Then you and I must stop it.'
'I can't,' he said as he thought of hs power diminishing. 'I don't know the
numbers.'
Suzette was worried. To cnacel the auto-destruct sequence, it was necessary to
know those six numbers. Together, they ran towards the building while a
bewildered Roger and Martin looked on. They pushed past Al and ran down the
stairs. Jim smiled with relief as Suzette burst into the control room,
stepping over Marianne in the doorway.
'Look sharp, Jim,' said Suzette. 'We've got to stop Princess from going
haywire.' She turned to Philippe. 'What is she set to do?'
'What I came here to do,' he said, matter-of-factly. 'Destroy them all.'
'All?'
'America, Russia and Britain,' clarified Jim. 'He told me earlier.' He looked
at her dress and appearance. 'What on earth have you done to yourself?'
'No time to explain,' said Suzette. 'Did you see Louis enter any numbers?'
'No,' said Jim. 'He didn't touch the console except to press that button.'
She whirled on Philippe. 'Then you must have set it. What are the numbers?'
'Wouldn't you like to know?'
'Yes, I would,' she said, gripping him by the lapels. 'Tell me.'
'For my freedom?'
Suzette looked at her allies. 'Very well, you have my word.' Al came in at
that moment and she spoke for them all. 'No-one will harm you if you tell me
the numbers.'
Philippe pondered for a moment as the seconds ticked away. There was a groan
at his feet as Marianne stirred and rubbed her bruised throat. Philippe
suddenly pushed Suzette away and then grabbed Marianne by the waist and held
her light body in front of his own as a shield as guns pointed in his
direction.
'Go to hell,' he sneered digging his own revolver into Marianne's side. 'I
didn't set the number, it was already programmed. When the time runs out, this
control room goes up, the satellite goes into its destruct sequence and then
you're finished, all of you. And good riddance.'
Somehow, he managed to stagger up the stairs, closing the airtight doors after
him and dragging Marianne out into the car park. Marianne screamed and kicked
as Philippe dragged her towards his little helicopter and Martin, on the roof,
could not get in a clean shot. Philippe threw her inside and started the
engine and the rotors began to turn, slowly at first and then racing to give
lift. Marianne stirred on the floor where she had been thrown and then
realised where she was. Frantically, she struggled and, finally, managed to
roll free as the helicopter began to rise into the air. The helicopter lurched
sickeningly from side to side as Marianne repeatedly slashed out with her
dagger at her former captor and tormentor. His blood splashed all over them
both as he tried to fight her off and control the staggering helicopter at the
same time. With a final, frantic effort he managed to push her away from
himself and clutched at the revolver on the seat beside him. Marianne saw
death staring her in the face as his finger tightened on the trigger.
'Bon Nuit, Marianne,' he said but the helicopter lurched as one of Martin's
rifle shots hit it and Phillipe's bullet caught her in the shoulder, spinning
her round with the force. Frantically, she fought to gain a handhold but
missed, pitching head-first out of the open doorway into empty space.
~~~~~




CHECK
THURSDAY 19th AUGUST - 2345 hrs.
Roger watched as the helicopter rose into the air. He jumped when he heard the
shot and saw Marianne fall ten feet to the ground. As Martin opened fire with
his automatic rifle, they watched Philippe's body jerking as round after round
pumped into him. But still, the helicopter climbed. Roger gripped the handle
of the portable Diablos launcher firmly and pulled the trigger. With a brief
flash of light, the devil flew into the air and headed straight for its
target. In his death throes, the Black King tried to move across the board but
failed as the White Knight's sword struck with the kind of blow which left
nothing but an empty, black square.
~~~~~
SUZETTE stared at the console as the numbers decreased steadily. She had to do
something or they were all dead. Her own death was not important but the
others were.
'Try some numbers,' said Jim.
'No. We've got to get it right first time. One wrong number and it activates
automatically.'
'How long do we have?' asked Al.
She looked at the digital readout. 'Fifty seconds.'
'How do we stop it?' screamed the frantic Gillian who had just come down from
the roof.
'Taking the detonator out this time won't help. It might save our lives but it
won't stop Princess destroying the rest of the world.'
'What numbers did Philippe mean?'
'The numbers I used at Laroque, it has to be.'
'How?'
'Because the two tracking stations are linked via Princess. One number must
control both of them.'
'What was the number you used at Laroque?' asked Jim.
'I can't remember. Eight-Six-Zero something or other, wasn't it?' She stood
over the keyboard. 'I hope I get it right,' she said and pressed the three
numbers.
'Did you get it right so far?' asked Al.
'We're still here so I must have done.'
'The other three, Suzette,' pleaded Jim. 'What were the other three numbers
you used?'
She looked at the readout as it counted down from ten. She closed her eyes and
tried to remember. 'Three,' she said and pressed the button. She opened her
eyes wide in realisation. 'Gill, your phone number at Newmarket, what was it?'
'Eight-Six-Zero-Three-Two-One,' she recited, puzzled as to why Suzette should
want to know that now.
Suzette pressed two buttons and the siren stopped its banshee wailing.
'It was your phone number I used, Gill. I finally remembered.'
Al looked down at the readout which read "0002" and said, 'About time, too,
kid.'
~~~~~
FRIDAY 20th AUGUST - 0900 hrs.
The control room was very quiet after the helicopter gunship had left, taking
the wounded Marianne to Geneva to gain the urgent ministrations of Doctor Karl
Mitzen. Gillian had gone to look after her en route and Jim and Roger,
naturally, had accompanied them. Fortunately, Marianne had not been seriously
hurt because the bullet from Philippe's gun had passed right through the top
of her shoulder. Her three metre fall to the ground had not helped but Gillian
had given her what painkillers she had with her and they left with her;
damaged but comfortable. Al and Martin had stayed behind to guard Suzette as
well as to protect the installation from further attack. Ramon watched Suzette
closely as her hands ran over the keyboard. For the first time since she had
first seen him at Navacelles, he was not sharpening his machete.
'Do you understand computers, Ramon?' she asked without taking her eyes off
the screen.
'I took a course at college two years ago, programming and data processing. I
was at home for the annual vacances when the bombs struck.'
Suzette turned and looked at him. 'Then you understand what I am doing?'
'Some of it. What I don't understand is why you have so many monitors.'
'Five scanning zones. AZ, BX and CX in the air; DX on the ground and EX below
ground or sea level.'
'What can you tell by what you see now?' he asked, leaning forward in his
chair.
'It's too early to tell yet. Wait a while and the computer will have enough
data to start an accurate analysis.'
'What were that Philippe and the others talking about when they mentioned
destruction?'
'I don't know. The satellite, Princess, is by itself completely harmless. It
has no destructive potential whatsoever.'
'Then what did he mean? Philippe said he could destroy whole nations. How
could he do that if Princess is as harmless as you say?'
'There has to be some signal which can be emitted by the satellite. One that
can trigger off something on the ground.'
'You mean there could be bombs in the USA and USSR now waiting to go off?
Ready for a signal from Princess?'
'It's possible. I'd guess they would have to be very big bombs though.'
He thought for a moment. 'Not if they were in each others' camps, they
wouldn't.'
Suzette started. 'What do you mean?'
'How did the war start in the first place?'
'A signal, presumably via Princess, was sent to the Malinov submarines in the
Mediterranean and others in the Baltic. They launched nuclear missiles.'
'And then?'
'NATO fought back, believing itself to be the subject of a Russian invasion.'
'Suppose, just suppose, that it could be done again.'
'Again?'
'How many missiles do you think the Russian fleet has left?'
'I have no idea. Malinovs One and Two launched quite a number from the
Mediterranean though I didn't count them.'
'They could still have some left, perhaps?'
'It's possible. What are you getting at?'
'If what I understood from the Major is correct, Malinov Two disappeared some
days ago.'
'I believe so.'
'Where did it go?'
'I have no idea. I had no access to Princess at the time.'
'Then just suppose, for a moment, that Malinov Two, or some other sub or subs
like it, is off the coast of the United States right now waiting only for a
pre-arranged, coded signal from the Kremlin before they fired all their
missiles, perhaps hundreds of them, upon the USA.'
'And?'
'And Princess was to give that signal.'
She stood up. 'Ramon. I think you've got it. The USA would strike back
immediately. It would have to.'
'Especially if Princess had already given a similar pre-arranged signal to the
NATO subs in the Arctic Ocean.'
'Then wham! Just like before.'
'So it appears,' he mused quietly. 'It seems that, from here, we can control
the whole world. We can enforce peace between the United States and the
Russian Federation.'
'But they already are at peace, Ramon. They were at peace before the war; a
peace negotiated between Ex-President Bush and Mr Gorbachev. It was only the
Consortium who triggered the war off. I think both nations must know that by
now.'
'But with Princess, we can make sure that they do. Force their hand, so to
speak.'
'I don't know. That sounds pretty hairy to me. I don't even know the codes
they used to contact each sides' attack forces.'
'But we have the computer. You could find out very easily, I'm sure.'
'I'm just a weather girl.'
He faced her. 'You're more than that, Mademoiselle Blackman. You must do it,
for France.'
They were interrupted by Al Slazinski who came in and dropped his rifle beside
a chair. 'Hi, kid. Found anything, yet?'
'Not yet, Al. Won't be long.'
'When you do, let me know so I can radio the Commander. He will want to know
immediately.'
'Why?' Suzette suddenly asked.
'So we can watch for Russians, of course. We want to know if they are planning
to move in on Europe while it is at its weakest.'
Suzette stood up, anger in her eyes. 'You two are as bad as each other. There
is no way I am going to get involved in some political manoeuvrings about who
is or who is not going to rule Europe. There are more important things to be
done first.'
'More important than the security of Western Europe?' shouted Ramon. 'We must
be in a position to protect ourselves in case they invade.'
'Not with my Princess.'
'YOUR Princess? Hey, girl, she belongs to the world not just to you.'
'Then let her serve the world, all of it.'
'She will. But only if one or the other side is in total control. Only then
can we ensure true peace and security.'
'Get out!' she seethed. 'Get out of my sight, both of you.'
'But,' said Major Slazinski. 'I'm just doing my job. I have my orders.'
'So have I and this is my ship. So both of you get the hell off it before I do
something you'll both regret.'
'I can't do that,' said the Major. 'I have orders to keep a close watch on
you. I'm serious, Suzette, I have no choice this time.'
'But I do, Al, and I'm just as serious. Get out now or I'll shut Princess
down. Permanently!'
'You wouldn't.'
'Try me,' she said. 'I haven't come all this way to hand her over now.'
'But we don't need you. We have Laroque.'
'Then why are you still here? Right now, you need me more than ever. I suggest
you check with Laroque. I think you will find that your precious analysts have
compounded my data corruption beyond repair.'
'You did that?'
'Of course,' she said. 'I altered the trigonometrical equation that interprets
the information and allows for the correct position of Princess. You see, Al,
only I know where Princess really is.'
'We are searching for it now.'
'Your people are real dumb, Al. They are not even looking in the right part of
the sky. Admit it, they're totally lost.'
'They have had a few problems,' he admitted.
'A few? Look, you only found me at Mandagout because I put the CX data correct
and even that took them ages. I did that deliberately so you could find any
survivors in Southern France and assist them from Columbia. As for the rest,
they're tens of miles out.'
'They'll get it right soon.'
'Wishful thinking, Al. Only...'
Their discussion was interrupted by the sound of the printer starting up.
'What is it?' asked the Major as Suzette tore off the sheet of fanfold paper
it spewed out.
Without answering, she went to the screen marked BX and ran her fingers nimbly
over the keys. The printer started again.
She read the result. 'There are large airborne movements in Eastern Austria
and close to Berlin.'
'Russian missiles?' he said, reaching for his gun.
'I don't think so,' admitted Suzette. 'Aircraft, perhaps.'
'I must warn Columbia.'
'No!' said Suzette.
'But the Russians are invading.'
'You don't know that.'
'What else could it be?'
'It could be anything.'
'Where are they headed?'
Suzette consulted the data and stood up slowly. 'The first wave appears to be
converging on Geneva.'
~~~~~
FRIDAY 20th AUGUST - 1000 hrs.
The pilot rushed into where the Doctor was applying a dressing around
Marianne's shoulder. She smiled up at Roger as the door opened. 'Mr Blackman.
Major Slazinski is on the radio for you.'
'Okay. Tell him I'm on my way.'
He leant over and kissed Marianne briefly before walking out to the gunship.
'Roger Blackman here,' he said into the microphone.
'We have a problem,' radioed Al. 'Princess has spotted massive numbers of
aircraft crossing Austria and Germany. One group of them seems to be headed
your way.'
'Who does Suzette think they are?'
'She can't tell. All she knows is they seem to have come from the East.'
'Russians?'
'Bombers, I reckon.'
'Well, Major. There's not a lot we can do about it here. I brought three
missiles with me and have used one already so I have two left. Poor defence
against the entire Russian Air Force.'
'Perhaps if you are able to knock a couple down, the rest will go away.'
'Are you serious, Major? It's more likely that they will obliterate Geneva. I
can't see the Russians packing up and going all the way home again just
because they lose a couple of planes.'
'Then you won't attack them?'
'Not on your life, Al. I'm no coward but neither am I completely stupid.'
'Then you must relay a message forward to Columbia. They must launch a defence
squadron.'
'Must they? Think again. Why do you think the Russians left Malinov One
guarding the UN fleet? Start launching Hornets in any sort of volume and boom!
Columbia will be spread all over the Mediterranean.'
'But we can't just let them walk all over Europe. Not after all that has
happened.'
'We have no choice. How long have we got?'
There a was a brief silence while Al presumably consulted Suzette.
'Thirty minutes,' he replied.
'Contact me again when they are five minutes away.'
'What are you going to do?'
'Get ready for them.'
'Then you'll fight?'
'Wait and see.' He signed off.
~~~~~
FRIDAY 20th AUGUST - 1020 hrs.
The radio crackled on Malinov One. Colonel Narovic grabbed the handset from
the operator. 'Da?'
The message was brief and concise and, when it was finished, he stood up and
spoke to the crew.
'Now we have a great opportunity to show the whole world what the Russian
people are made of. We have received our orders relayed direct from the Moskva
via Odessa Control and are to act immediately.' He saluted. 'Long live the
Motherland.'
'Long live the Motherland,' the crew repeated.
Colonel Andrei Narovic took one last look through the periscope, closed the
eyepiece and said, 'Blow all ballast! Surface!'
MATE

FRIDAY 20th AUGUST - 1025 hrs.
Suzette looked up from the screen marked BX. 'Tell Roger five minutes.'
Al Slazinski nodded and walked outside to relay the message.
'You're crazy, all of you,' said Ramon. 'You're throwing away the only chance
we've got to save what's left Europe for the West.'
'Trust me,' she said simply.
~~~~~
FRIDAY 20th AUGUST - 1030 hrs.
Roger stood beside the helicopter, the microphone in one hand, Marianne in the
other. They stood together in silence as the steady drone got louder. Marianne
slipped her arm around his waist. Her other arm was in a sling.
Roger pressed "Talk". 'This is your roving reporter, Roger Blackman, speaking
direct from Geneva which, until recently was the headquarters of the Red Cross
and occasional home of the United Nations. More recently, it was the centre
for the Consortium which sought to rule Europe. I hope someone's recording
this for posterity.'
'If there is any,' replied Suzette on the radio. 'Stop messing around and tell
us what's happening.'
'Right now, I'm standing at the Western end of Lac Leeman watching a fantastic
sight. Between the mountains at the other end of the lake there are dozens of
black specks in the sky and I have been informed by reliable sources that they
are aircraft from Russia. I am having to shout because the noise level is
increasing steadily as they approach, in formation, across the lake at around
three thousand feet. It is quite clear that the leading aircraft have their
bomb doors open and are lining up to cross the centre of the city. As I speak,
objects are falling from the aircraft. Objects cylindrical in shape are
falling towards the town.'
There was a silence so Suzette broke in. 'Roger, are you there? Come in,
Roger.'
'I'm here,' came back the voice. 'Do you know what's happening?'
'No, tell me. Is it goodbye?'
'Not on your life. Parachutes are opening from the cylinders. They're falling
slowly into the city. The other people are all in the shelters, so there's
just Marianne and I, with the pilot and the doctor watching as Russia showers
us with supplies. Food, tools, materials, all the things we need to start
again. It's a glorious sight. I only wish you were here to see it.'
~~~~~

FRIDAY 20th AUGUST - 1035 hrs.
Captain Whittaker adjusted his binoculars. 'Malinov One on the surface,
Admiral. What do we do?'
'Do, Henry? We wait.'
'Wait, sir?' asked the incredulous Commander Jakes. 'Isn't she going to
attack?'
'Narovic didn't need to surface to attack us, John. Let's see what he wants.'
The intercom crackled. 'Sparks here, Admiral. I'm getting garbled messages
from Geneva. Something about Russia aircraft dropping supplies.'
'What?'
'I also have Colonel Narovic on the radio, sir. Do you want to talk with him
direct?'
'Of course. I'm on my way down.'
The three men crowded into the radio room and the Admiral took the mic.
'Admiral Michael Davison speaking. Go ahead, Colonel.'
'Greetings Admiral. You will be pleased to know that we have now received our
orders from Moskva. We are to assist you in every way possible. Aircraft have
already been dispatched to drop supplies where they are needed.'
'That is indeed good news, Colonel. How can I help?'
'By ascertaining the position of survivors. I understand from what Miss
Blackman told me that you are able to do that with your satellite.'
'I am afraid Miss Blackman is not here and our own specialists are having some
difficulty reading the data. We will be of little value to you until we can
get through to her at Rouen.'
'Then try, Admiral. For the sake of Europe.'
Commander Jakes watched the Admiral put down the microphone. 'Does he mean it,
do you think?'
'I'm not sure. But for the moment, we have no alternative but to trust him.'
He turned to the radio operator. 'Sparks. Try to contact Geneva. Maybe they
can relay messages to Rouen.'
'Aye, aye, sir.'
~~~~~
FRIDAY 20th AUGUST - 1200 hrs.
Al raced down the stairs and shouted to Suzette. 'We have made contact with
the Northern fleet. Apparently, they have found large numbers of survivors in
Britain.'
Suzette looked greatly relieved. 'Any further news from Geneva?'
'Roger says that they have started relief centres and are shipping supplies
out by truck to isolated areas. What he needs is more information from you as
to where the survivors might be. Can you track their heat sources with
Princess?'
'I will soon. I am having to fine tune the data balance so that individual
people show up. It's not that easy.'
'Right,' he said. 'I'll leave you to it.'
Suzette watched, waited, adjusted, analysed. It took a long time but,
eventually, she had the information and gave it to Al to forward on to the
groups that were in the best position to help.
~~~~~
IT was some time before she also saw another unusual pattern emerging. At
first, she refused to believe the evidence of her eyes but, in time, she was
forced to the conclusion she least of all wanted to reach.
'Ramon,' she said suddenly as a tremendous pain shot across her back. 'Would
you get Al for me?'
The lad nodded, stood up and walked out of the door. Quietly, Suzette
followed, limping a little. On the middle floor, she waited until Ramon had
cleared the building and then closed the airtight door leading to the
reception area. Stumbling to the anti-room, she checked the generator and fuel
levels before switching off all the outside monitors and lights and then
descending into the bowels of the earth. Before she could get into the control
room, she heard them hammering on the outside door. Would they realise what
she had done? She had no way of telling as there was no radio contact with
outside.
After some thought, she also closed the main door separating the two floors
and sealed it. Now she could not get out and they could not get in to stop
her. From her seat at the terminals, she controlled the whole, wide world. To
make certain she could not be disturbed, she painfully got to her feet and
went to the small console marked "AIR CONTROL" and, leaning on the wall for
support, she pressed the button.
'Location? >' asked the screen listing all the rooms in the tracking station
complex. She entered her choice.
'PRESSURIZE OR EVACUATE? (P/E)>' asked the screen. She pressed "E" and the
pumps started, draining all the air from the middle floor. Now she was truly
alone. No-one could enter to disturb her with a ninety cubic metre vacuum
between herself and the outside world. Using the consoles for support, she
went back to the screens which continued to relay the bad news. Heat emissions
were all converging on one spot - Rouen. They were coming from the
Mediterranean, from Switzerland, from Germany. There were no survivors in this
part of Northern France, she had told them all that, so why were they coming?
There could be only one explanation, they all wanted to get their hands on
Princess and they all knew that whoever reached the tracking station first
could dictate terms to the world. However, Suzette she did not intend to
release her control that easily. She had to stop them and there was only one
way to do that.
Painfully, she sat down at the main console and entered a code.
'READY >' said Princess.
'DESTRUCT,' typed in Suzette as another twinge gripped her back.
'ARE YOU SURE? (Y/N) >' came the screen response.
'Y,' she entered and the disc drive whirred as the programme was entered into
the mainframe.
'DO YOU WISH TO SAVE THE CO-ORDINATE DATA? (Y/N) >'
The co-ordinate data contained, among other things, all the codes for
launching the nuclear weapons. Most of all, she wanted that information
irrevocably dumped.
'N' she entered, thus totally destroying the data forever.
'DATA NOT SAVED. DO YOU WISH TO ARM THE SATELLITE? (Y/N) >'
'N' she entered, rubbing her left leg with her other hand to try to bring back
the lost feeling.
'DO YOU WISH TO ACTIVATE THE PRNCS SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE? (Y/N) >'
She hesitated for a few seconds. Did she really want to do this? In she
didn't, whoever gained control of Princess would try to find a way to use her
to destroy others. Maybe they would try to persuade her to work for them,
perhaps threatening Roger or Marianne with harm so as to force her hand as
Philippe had done with Jim and Marianne. Was there another way? Or was this
now the only way left remaining to ensure Europe kept the new-found peace it
had acquired?
'Y,' she typed.
'SELF-DESTRUCT INITIATED. ENTER SIX-DIGIT SECURITY CODE >'
Her fingers touched the keys and then she stopped. Last time, she entered a
telephone number; something easy to remember so that she could cancel the
destruct procedure. Suzette smiled to herself. She dare not even trust her own
heart so, after a few moments consideration, she simply pressed "ENTER".
'RANDOM CODE SELECTED,' came the reply. 'DO YOU WISH TO CONTINUE? (Y/N) >'
Suzette took a deep breath. This was the point of no return. Having forced
Princess to choose her own random destruct code, unknown even to herself as
the operator, it would be impossible to stop once the sequence was triggered.
'Y' she typed and was committed.
'SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE IN OPERATION. DEFAULT TIME DELAY IS THREE MINUTES,'
read the screen. And then; 'PRESS RED BUTTON TO ACTIVATE >'
Lastly, came the word she hated the most. 'END>'
The screen cleared except for that single, ominous word that illustrated the
finality of what she was about to do. There was no way out now. Once she
pressed that red button, she had just three minutes to painfully make her way
across that control room and enter the tiny bunkroom, lay down on her bed and
simply wait for the end. The nuclear device installed inside the console was
not a large one as bombs go, so the structure of the building would probably
remain intact whereas the interior would be totally obliterated, everything
inside instantly vaporized in one flash of blinding atomic-fission.
Suzette put off the moment of decision and reflected on all that had happened
over the last few weeks. She thought of all the deceit, the intrigue, the war,
the battle for survival. She also thought of the future and smiled for a
moment. There was Roger and Marianne, Jim and Gillian, starting again like
Adams and Eves. A new world that could only be guaranteed by the deaths of
Princess and herself. She sat at the controls and just stared at the red
button in front of her which seemed to grow and fill the whole room. She and
Princess had worked together for a long time and it now seemed appropriate
that they should die together. Suzette and the satellite, White Queen and
Princess.
A tear dripped onto the keyboard as she thought briefly of the only man she
had ever loved, ever wanted, and even he was now dead because of his own
deceit and treachery. At university, they had called her the "Eternal Virgin"
and her brother had often ribbed her over it. However, they had been right.
She was born one and was now about to die one.
At first, she had refused to believe she had been badly hurt by Corrine but
now, things looked different. The pains in her back were increasing steadily
and, at times, she lost the use of one or the other of her legs for several
hours at a time and it would get no better, she knew deep in her heart. Only
this morning, she had noticed a considerable amount of blood in her urine and
she knew the doctor had not exaggerated the degree of damage done to her
internal organs. However, she had done her best and the rest was now up to the
others.
'Goodbye, Roger,' she said sadly. 'Goodbye, Marianne.'
She sobbed softly as her fingers toyed with the console, drawing patterns in
the thin film of dust which coated it while the teardrops splashed onto her
hands.
'Goodbye, Gillian. Goodbye, Jim.'
Suzette blinked at the screen through her tears and finally said, 'Goodbye,
Princess.'
She pressed the button.




Is this the end for Suzette and Princess?
Are you sure?
Then you obviously have not read                      Aftermath of a Princess.