REQUIUM FOR A PRINCESS


Princess #2




by




Lee Edgar
















PRELUDE


MONDAY 28th June - 1115 hrs.

The scruffy little man climbed the steps slowly and painfully while other, younger men passed him, often leaping two at a time up the long stairway of the Foreign Intelligence headquarters in London. Harry didn’t mind, he had done his duty over the last forty years which had given him ample opportunity to prove his firm allegiance to the crown. Nowadays, he was quite content to let these fitter men do the running around while he helped with the planning. 
Pausing for breath at the top, he looked around the large but dingy landing with its large but dingy paintings hung on the walls and thought back to better times, before consoling himself that, in another few months, his long-overdue pension would begin. Then, he would have time to care for his rhubarb and carnations. Harry smiled then tucked the buff file tightly under his left arm, drew back his shoulders and walked down the long passageway until he came to the large door at the end. He knocked. 
‘Come in,’ said the stern voice. 
Drawing back his shoulders once more, Harry turned the ornate brass handle and entered the room. It was no surprise to him to find that, in the middle of the room was a desk and, behind the said desk was a man who was engrossed in signing some documents before him. Eventually, the man behind the desk finished his paperwork and, without a word, held out his hand. 
‘The Requiem file, Colonel Carstairs,’ said Harry respectfully, placing into it the small but neat cardboard folder. 
‘Is it all here?’ asked the senior man, holding up the file and then indicating the empty chair positioned squarely in front of the big desk. 
‘Everything, sir,’ was the confident reply. 
Harry sat bolt-upright, facing his superior, and smirked inwardly. As if he, Captain Harold Williams, who had faithfully served this little-known government department for most of his working life, would forget anything important. 
Only the ticking of the large clock on the mantelpiece disturbed the silence as the Colonel flipped casually through the file in front of him. The windows hadn’t been cleaned in years and it was difficult to see the fine view which otherwise must have been possible right across the tree-lined square. Harry sat patiently, his hands in his lap. For some reason he couldn’t explain, they felt strangely sweaty as he thought of the assignment ahead. 
The Colonel came to the end of the file and then looked again at the picture of the dark-haired young woman looking at him from inside the front cover. She was slim and the bottom half of bikini she wore was what he believed modern fashion-followers would describe as "microscopic". Her bare breasts were not large but the nipples stood tall, he could not help but notice. He peered at his colleage over the top of his glasses. ‘Is this the girl?’ 
The Captain coughed to hide his nervousness. ‘Yes, sir.’ 
‘We must be careful how we handle this.’ He looked down again at the picture and, in spite of his age, felt his heart-beat speed up a little. ‘It could jeopardise our position in view of the leak.’ 
‘Just one question, sir,’ asked Harry, already knowing the probable answer. ‘Will the young lady come out of this alive?’ 
The Colonel confirmed his suspicions. ‘I’m afraid we cannot allow that to happen.’ 
The Captain looked almost sad. ‘Shall I make the necessary arrangements?’ 
‘Of course.’ The senior man stamped the cover of the file. ‘Commence Operation Requiem.’ 
Captain Williams stood up and left as the Colonel looked once more at her photograph, shook his head sadly, closed the cardboard folder and filed it in his desk drawer under “Disposable Assets”.
~~~~~






FIRST MOVEMENT


THURSDAY 8th July - 0900 hrs.

The white car pulled into the car park of the office block in Cambridge and parked among the many others. The driver’s door opened and out stepped one shapely leg followed by its matching, suntanned companion. The owner of the aforementioned appendages was wearing a smart navy blue suit over a white blouse which contrasted well with her slightly dusky skin. The young woman took off her dark glasses, retrieved the black executive case from the rear seat and then closed the car door, locking it and setting the alarm with her remote control. 
She had not owned the car long. Liking fast cars, she had traded in her bright red XR3i for the brand new RS Cosworth last summer and had made up the balance of the price with what was left of the money from the sale of her father’s old house in Grantchester. The car had cost one arm and a leg to buy and the other arm and leg to modify to her specifications. That memory brought a sadness for a second as she thought of the brother whom she loved so dearly who had spent so much time on her car before disappearing suddenly. 
The young woman walked through the main door and collected her mail from the uniformed security officer behind the reception desk who's eyes glanced more than briefly at the shortness of her skirt. 
‘Good morning, Miss Blackman,’ he greeted cheerfully. ‘You’re looking radiant today.’ 
His attempt at chatting her up produced the kind of look which could freeze a waterfall at fifty paces as she turned towards the lift which would take her to the computer office. 
Suzette enjoyed her work. Not that evaluating data from a weather satellite was particularly exciting but her photographic memory helped with both the translating of the data into English and also the evaluation and interpretation of the said data from Princess. 
It’s odd, she thought as the lift took her to the correct floor, someone had once taken the initials of the Photoconductive Radiation Network Communications Satellite - P.R.N.C.S. - and they became “Princess”. No-one could remember who had started the trend but the name had stuck and, in the department, Princess was always “her”; never, ever, “it”. Suzette’s job was to supervise the small team of analysts who used the data from the heat sensors on the satellite to ascertain weather patterns. 
Arriving at her office and switching on her own terminal, she opened her mail as the computer booted up. The internal phone buzzed. 
‘Suzette Blackman,’ she stated pleasantly but business-like into the mouthpiece. 
‘Would you come into my office for a moment, please?’ said her boss’s voice. 
‘Certainly,’ she replied, a little puzzled at so early a summons. Nodding a greeting to the junior clerk who collected the many print-outs from the terminals, she walked quickly to the closed office in the corner of the open-plan complex of desks and monitors, knocked and then entered. The man behind the desk indicated one of the two chairs in front of a desktop which was empty except for a single sheet of paper. The other chair was occupied by a man in his mid-twenties with fair hair and a pleasant smile. 
‘Sit down, please, Miss Blackman,’ said the manager. 
Suzette sat on the edge of the padded wooden chair, trying to pull her skirt down enough to cover at least half her thighs and cast a brief, sideways glance at her male assistant who sat, cross-legged, beside her. 
‘You have been with us for four years now, haven’t you?’ continued the manager, consulting the paper in front of him. 
‘Yes, sir,’ she replied, wondering where the conversation was leading. 
‘According to my records, you have not had a holiday this year.’ It was more of a statement than a question. 
‘No, sir. Since Princess was placed in geostationary orbit by Ariane last year, I have not had the time to spare.’ 
His face softened. ‘You cannot keep working at this pace, Suzette. You must take a holiday.’ 
‘But I...’ started Suzette. 
‘I insist,’ he interrupted. ‘If you keep going like you have been doing lately, you will have a nervous breakdown or something. That would do none of us any good, least of all Princess.’ 
‘But who will run the evaluation while I am away?’ she asked, suspecting the worst. 
‘That is why I have brought in Mr Marshal.’ Her fears were confirmed. ‘He will take over for the period that you are absent from the department.’ 
Suzette glanced at her assistant again. ‘But with respect, sir, Jim knows nothing about the data. Only I can do it properly.’ 
Her assistant interrupted, much to Suzette’s annoyance. ‘I am willing to learn. I might not have your experience but I can try if you will help me.’ 
She stared daggers at him. ‘And what if you make a mistake?’ 
Their boss interrupted the friendly tête-á-tête. ‘Suzette, this is weather data that we’re evaluating, not some kind of secret material essential to national security.’ 
‘But I take my work very seriously.’ 
‘Yes, you do. Perhaps a little too seriously at times. I have to insist, take a week off. Do you still have your late mother’s house in the South of France?’ 
‘Yes, sir.’ She began to feel she was losing the battle. ‘Near Sorède.’ 
‘Then help Jim today and leave tomorrow night before the summer rush starts.’ 
Suzette looked down at her hands in defeat. Then, inspiration blossomed for a moment. ‘There is one problem,’ she admitted. ‘I can’t really afford it.’ 
‘That’s the other reason why I wanted to speak to you.’ The inspiration dissolved as the manager opened the drawer in his desk. ‘I’m afraid we made an error in your wages during this fiscal year.’ 
‘Error?’ 
He held up an envelope. ‘We owe you some back pay, certainly enough for a holiday and I have to insist that you go this weekend while it is quiet. I cannot afford to have you go ill on me, you are far too important to this department.’ 
The compliment went some way to calming Suzette down as she thanked her boss, took the envelope from his outstretched hand and got to her feet. ‘Sir...’ 
‘Go, Suzette.’ He smiled. ‘And don’t forget to send us a postcard.’ 
Suzette nodded, smiled briefly and then returned to her terminal. 
Jim Marshal approached a few moments later, cheerfully pleased with himself. ‘Well, where do I start?’ 
Suzette was clearly not so pleased. ‘We only have a couple of days, I just hope you are a fast learner.’ 
‘It’s okay, darling,’ he replied cheekily, ‘I’m a fast worker and I’ve been dealing with some of the data already. I may not be as clever as you, but I am not completely stupid.’ 
Suzette was livid. ‘Don’t you dare “darling” me. If you want any kind of a future here, young man, you had better get a bit more serious about your work.’ 
‘Yes, Miz Blackman,’ he replied smugly as Suzette scowled back at him.
~~~~~
THURSDAY 8th JULY - 1845 hrs.
Suzette’s car turned into a side street in Trumpington where most of the large, Victorian houses had been divided into smart executive flats. There were no children playing in this street and she was glad of the peace and quiet as she parked outside one of the houses, walked up the stone steps and in through the bright red front door. The flat itself was not large but it was modern and functional. The Purbeck stone fireplace had a gas fire fitted into it with a stone plinth, atop which sat her portable TV and CD player. 
Suzette placed her briefcase on the polished table, walked into the kitchen annex and plugged in both kettle and electric toaster. Pulling back her hair she tucked it up at the back. 
At the same time, she unclipped the halter neck top and allowed the top of her dress to fall to her waist after which she peeled off her panties and pushed them into the front door of the automatic washing machine. 
After switching on her TV, she turned as the toast popped up and then buttered in time with some pop hit before pouring boiling water onto coffee. With sudden inspiration, she turned down the TV sound and picked up the phone, kicking her shoes off as she sat down. As the phone dialled, she sipped coffee, hung her long legs over the arm of the settee, lay back and smiled. The weather was unusually warm and the breeze from the window wafted over her bare breasts. She had neither time nor inclination ever to wear a bra except while jogging. There was a click as the connection was made. 
‘Hi, Gill,’ she said into the instrument. ‘How’s things?’ 
‘Hullo, stranger,’ replied the excited voice. ‘I’m okay. We had a new horse delivered today, a lovely black stallion with a white flash down his nose. I’ve been given the job of training him.’ 
‘Good for you,’ said Suzette between mouthfuls of toast and coffee. ‘Do you like what you are doing now?’ 
‘Oh, yes,’ replied her friend. ‘I’d much rather ride a horse than fix it when it gets sick. You ought to try it sometime.’ 
Suzette laughed and relaxed. ‘So you keep telling me.’ 
‘Suzette, I’m serious. It’s about time you came out of yourself, got a boy friend or something. Meet up with the local rugby team and get seriously laid.’ 
‘Well you always seem to have plenty of blokes and you’re always cheerful enough.’ 
‘Come over at the weekend. I’ll introduce you to a few of them. I’ll have you married before you know what’s hit you.’ 
‘Not yet, you won’t,’ Suzette playfully scolded. ‘One day, I’ll find my Mr Right. Then I’ll commit myself and not before.’ 
‘Listen to the dreamer. The “Eternal Virgin” they used to call you at University, do you know that?’ 
‘I’m not surprised,’ Suzette laughed. ‘Those fellahs all had one-track minds.’ 
‘And what’s wrong with that? It’s done me no harm. Come over to Newmarket for the weekend. We’ll have some fun.’ 
‘Not this weekend,’ replied Suzette, almost sorry. ‘I’m off to France.’ 
‘France?’ The sigh was clearly audible. ‘Not another Satellite Communication training course?’ 
‘Not this time. I’m going for a holiday.’ 
‘Hang on, Suzette,’ said Gillian, tapping the phone, ‘I think we must have a crossed line. I could have sworn I heard the word “holiday” just then.’ 
‘You did,’ laughed Suzette, almost spilling her coffee onto the skin of her bare chest in the process. ‘I’m going down to mum’s old place in the Pyrenees for a week. Old Dimbleby has told me “take a holiday, or else”.’ 
‘Good for him,’ supported Gill. ‘Take my advice, Suzette. Find a couple of good-looking blokes down there and spend the week in bed with them. Three was always my favourite number.’ 
Suzette blushed. ‘Gill, I’m surprised at you. You, of all people, ought to know I’m not like that.’ 
‘No, you’re not, are you?’ her friend apologised. ‘Then just enjoy the sun and the mountains. When you come back with an all-over tan, I’ll show you the real life.’ She paused. ‘When are you leaving?’ 
‘Tomorrow afternoon, after work.’ 
‘Are you flying down?’ 
‘Not likely. I really hate flying and never do it unless I have to. No, I’m going to take my car. It’s not had a good run since Roger tuned it last year.’ 
‘Have you heard from that gorgeous brother of yours lately?’ 
‘No,’ Suzette replied sadly. ‘He just seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. I do miss him.’ 
‘Cheer up, Suzette. He’s probably over in France, waiting for you.’ 
Suzette sighed. ‘Wishful thinking, Gill.’ 


~~~~~
FRIDAY 9th JULY - 1715 hrs.
Suzette left her flat dressed in a white tee-shirt and denims and loaded her brown suitcase into the boot of the car. She imagined it felt a little heavier than normal but thought no more of it at the time. Climbing into the car, she fastened her seat belt, put on her dark glasses and started the 2-litre Cosworth engine. 
As she turned out of the close and into the gathering rush-hour traffic, she did not notice Harry’s signal from the window of the flat opposite nor the dark-blue Renault 25 which fell into position two cars behind her. Neither did she see nor hear the electronic signal emitting from the homing beacon which had been inserted, along with half a kilo of plastic explosive, into the silk lining of her suitcase.
~~~~~






SECOND MOVEMENT


SATURDAY 10th JULY - 1600 hrs.
The weather became warmer as Suzette came off the tunnel shuttle at Calais and swiftly made her way southwards along the A26. She stopped for the night just south of Paris and arrived at what had been her mother’s villa high up in the narrow valley above Sorède by late afternoon. 
‘Bonjour, Suzette,’ cheerfully greeted the girl who was waiting for her as she stepped out of the car. ‘Est ce que tu as un voyage sans danger?’ 
They embraced warmly. 
‘Oui, Marianne,’ Suzette replied with a smile as the fair-haired girl carried her suitcase inside while she plonked herself onto the only bed. 
Yes, she had journeyed safely except for one brief incident just outside Paris, where some nutcase in a Renault had tried to cut-up the car behind her on the Boulevard Périférique. 
‘Le dîner?’ she asked without opening her eyes. ‘A quelle heure est il?’ 
‘A huit heures,’ replied the nineteen-year-old girl dressed in skirt and floppy sweater. 
‘D’accord,’ replied Suzette from the bed where she lay, hot after her long journey. ‘Je suis trés chaud.’ 
‘La piscine est pleine,’ offered Marianne as she hesitated by the open patio doors. ‘Tu veux nager?’ 
‘Oui, merci.’ She sat up and smiled as Marianne left to arrange things. ‘A bientôt, cherie.’ 
It was a good system. Marianne’s father ran a small auberge just outside Laroque des Albères and it saved Suzette having to do any cooking at the villa. If dinner was not to be until eight-o’clock, she would take heed of her young cousin’s suggestion and spend a little time in the swimming pool. The birds were still chirping away as she stepped through the doorway and onto the patio. Today, the valley was empty of humans but soon, she knew, it would be time for the French “vacances” and the valley would echo to the cries of playing children. She shuddered at the thought and was glad she would be gone by then. Stepping out of her denims, she threw them onto the bed and then pulled her tee-shirt over her head. The water was cool and refreshing after her long drive and she was soon feeling better. Then, as the sun was still warm, she climbed out of the pool, tied her hair up on top of her head and lay down to soak up the last of its rays.
~~~~~
SATURDAY 10th JULY - 1700 hrs.
In spite of her youth and good health, Suzette would probably have had a heart attack if she had suspected the effect she was having on the man with the binoculars. He was watching her from the cover of the trees on the hillside opposite and was having considerable difficulty holding them steady. 
‘What is she doing now?’ asked his companion who lay back on the soft grass. 
‘She’s just lying there, sunbathing. Won’t these things focus any better?’ 
The older man rolled over and held out his hand. ‘Here, give them to me.’ After adjusting the knurled knob, he observed her closely. 
‘Shame about the panties,’ sighed the younger man. 
‘Ramon, you are a sex-maniac,’ André said with disgust as he handed back the glasses. 
‘I’m only doing as I have been instructed. Monsieur le Directeur said to observe her very closely and that’s exactly what I am doing.’ 
‘Just don’t be tempted to go near her, that’s all.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I wonder why she is here?’ 
Ramon shrugged. ‘On holiday, I expect.’ 
‘Imbecile. That girl is the one person in England who has been trained to interpret the data from the satellite. This week, just before the holidays begin, we arrange to test the new heat-seeking probes and she turns up here, just two kilometres from the tracking station. That, mon ami, is just too much of a coincidence.’ 
‘What are we going to do?’ 
André got to his feet and pondered a moment before reaching a decision. ‘You, stay and observe. I am sure that you can do that with some enthusiasm. Moi? I’m going to ring Monsieur le Directeur and find out precisely what he wants us to do with her.’ 


~~~~~
SATURDAY 10th JULY - 2000 hrs.
The patio door opened silently some time after Suzette had dressed and left for dinner. André carefully searched through her things and found nothing significant. Carefully, he raised her negligée, smelt the sweet perfume and dreamt for a moment before switching on his electronic detector. The light flashed, indicating that, somewhere in the room, there was a radio transmission source. Eventually, he found it. Something was sewn into the lining of her suitcase. Smiling, he carefully emptied it and crept away into the growing darkness.
~~~~~
SUNDAY 11th JULY - 0930 hrs.
‘Marianne,’ Suzette called as she crouched on her knees, peering under the bed. ‘Have you seen my suitcase?’ 
‘Non. Isn’t it under the bed?’ 
Suzette thought that she had left her suitcase under the bed, too. But now it had gone. ‘Never mind, nothing else seems to be missing. I will buy a new one just like it from Le Perthus this morning.’ 
‘Le Perthus? You are not thinking of going over the mountain are you?’ 
‘Of course.’ 
‘But it is dangerous. The road is steep and narrow and...’ 
‘Marianne. I am going.’ Suzette knew of the track through the forest which crossed the Albères and came out just to the north of Le Perthus. She had found it one day as a teenager when walking in the mountains but, today, she was going to drive over. As her cousin had told her, the track was certainly narrow and indeed very rough in places but she owned a rally car, so she was going rallying. 
‘What are you going to wear?’ asked Marianne as she watched Suzette debating with herself. 
‘I can’t make up my mind. I feel daring today and want to wear something different for a change.’ 
With inspiration, the younger girl delved into the back of the alcove and then produced a plastic carrier bag. ‘Voila!’ 
Suzette’s eyes opened wide. ‘What is that?’ 
‘Clothes,’ smiled Marianne as she tipped the contents onto the bed. What Suzette saw made up her mind for her. When she was fifteen, her brother had bought her some holiday clothes to celebrate her coming into the big, wide world and here they were: the armless tee-shirt she had never dared wear in public; those tight red shorts; the cheesecloth top that had horrified their father when he had once caught her wearing it; the bikini which had barely covered her then and most certainly would not now. She smiled at them all but lifted out the tee-shirt. Even at fifteen, she had been sufficiently well-built to keep falling out of it and Roger had doubled-up in hysterical laughter. It was that thought which jogged something in her mind. 
With sudden comprehension, she realised just why it was she had spent all her youth avoiding boys and now was automatically repulsed by men. She was still madly in love with the brother who had been her greatest confidant in both childhood and youth. It had been Roger who had taught her to ride her bike and then to drive her car. It was Roger who had carried her books home from school and frightened away the bullies. After the news had arrived about father’s sudden, tragic death when the Argentine Exocet had struck H.M.S. Sheffield, it had also been left to poor Roger to look after a very naive and innocent sixteen-year-old girl and he had had to brave tremendous embarrassment to explain what life was about, and sex and marriage. She guessed it had been then that she had fallen deeply in love with her own brother and no-one else had come close by comparison. 
‘I know,’ she said, dropping her dressing gown to the bed. With great difficulty and much heaving while lying on the bed with her legs in the air, she managed to struggle into the shorts while Marianne convulsed with laughter. ‘Alors. I seem to have grown a little. My bottom is not as skinny as it was.’ 
Both girls laughed at the tightness of the shorts but, despite the fact that she had grown in other places, the armless tee-shirt was still a little “over the top”. Instead, she selected the cheesecloth blouse her father had erupted over but which still made it most of the way around her, tied it at the front and stood in front of the full-length mirror. The top was virtually transparent and her small, round nipples clearly visible and she was almost tempted to try something less raunchy but decided that for once, she didn't give a damn what people saw or didn’t see. 
‘Suzette,’ Marianne gasped. ‘You look great. A little sexy, even.’ 
Suzette had to agree. With her hair in a pony tail and wearing her sunglasses, she looked absolutely devastating and Roger would have been proud of her. Perhaps Gillian was right after all. She ought to come out of herself a bit more. As Marianne got into her Citroen 2CV to return to the village, Suzette slipped into white socks and trainers, climbed into into her own car and opened the sun roof. As she accelerated away from the villa, the Cosworth left a cloud of dust behind as it climbed the forest trail towards the summit of Pic Neulos. It was only a couple of miles to the top as the crow flies. However, any crow daft enough to follow that particular forest trail would have become very dizzy indeed.
It was days like this when Suzette wished she had gone for a soft-top car, but then there was always the English winter to contend with. Expert though she was at reading the data, it had a nasty knack of fooling her, regardless. In four-wheel drive, she easily wound her way around the bends and, soon, reached the top of the pass. The view was breathtaking. Behind her lay the entire Plain of Rousillon, spread out like a map below her and, ahead, the forest and coastline of Northern Spain visible almost to Barcelona. 
However, there was one thing different. When she had last been here, there had been only a forest trail most of the way to Le Perthus but now, here at the very top of the Anti-Pyrenees, there was a brand new tarmacadam road. She paused a moment with indecision then, with a sudden feeling of daring, she reversed her Cosworth then turned up the road which led to the top. 
It was most disappointing. All there was in sight was a flat-roofed, concrete building with a communications dish and some antenna on top. Probably some sort of relay station, she thought to herself. What a waste of time. The road she had driven up was very narrow so she had to drive right into the car park to turn her car round. It was then that she did something she had never done before in her life. She stalled the car. 
She excused herself by blaming the high altitude. The fuel injection system had been set up for damp, cold England whereas here, it was hot and dry and she was at an altitude of over four thousand feet. She smiled. Road builders in Britain would have given themselves apoplexy just thinking about making a road so high. Waiting a moment, she tried again, but to no avail. In desperation, she got out and lifted the bonnet. Fortunately, she had learned a thing or two from her brother and she was soon able to get it going again. It was when she was about to lower the bonnet that two men came out of a steel door in the side of the building and approached her. 
‘C’est le domaine Privée,’ André declared, suspicious of her motives for being there. 
‘Je-suis désolée,’ she said, hoping her apology would suffice. ‘Ma voiture,’ she pointed at her car. ‘Elle-est Anglaise et...’ 
‘Nous-comprenons,’ soothed Ramon as he put his head under the bonnet. ‘Oo-la-la.’ 
It was doubtful whether he could see much of the engine through his dark glasses, but it wasn’t the engine he was interested in. It was then that they both deliberately contrived to get into a long conversation with her about holidays and cars while they closely observed her pleasantly wobbling assets from behind their dark glasses.
~~~~~
SUNDAY 11th JULY - 1100 hrs.
The Birdwatcher adjusted his camera so that he could see them all very clearly. From perched in a tree beside the road, he zoomed in his 800mm telephoto lens onto her cheesecloth top and face and carefully opened the shutter a number of times. There was little his camera missed and he felt it a shame that it could not record the words as well as the close-up pictures of this particularly shapely girl having this particularly long conversation with these two particularly infamous gentlemen.
~~~~~
SUNDAY 11th JULY - 1130 hrs.
The blue Renault followed the white Cosworth along the long and winding road over the Col de L’Ouillat and down into the little border town of Le Perthus. The traffic was heavy with people coming to take advantages of the bargains that were still to be had and it was some time before he saw Suzette parking her car. He then parked his own car a short distance away as Suzette started to look round the shops. The Birdwatcher finally found a phone box where he could keep an eye on her as he dialled a number in London. He had to query the number with the operator and, in doing so, missed a vital clue - Suzette’s purchase of a suitcase identical to that which had been stolen by André. 
‘She knows,’ said the Birdwatcher into the phone. 
‘What do you mean?’ asked the Colonel at the other end of the line. 
‘This morning, bold as brass, she drove right up to the front door of the tracking station and got herself into conversation with two of the operators.’ 
The Colonel didn’t sound terribly happy. ‘That wasn’t supposed to happen. We arranged for her to go to France simply to convince them that we knew all about what they are doing.’ 
‘Don’t we?’ 
‘Of course not. But they don’t know that.’ 
‘So what happens now?’ 
The Colonel made up his mind. ‘The girl must be eliminated.’ 
‘Immediately?’ 
‘Before she leaves France,’ he insisted. ‘But it must look as if the French found out about her supposed spying and did it to cover themselves.’ 
‘Don’t worry.’ He smiled. ‘Leave it to me. I’ve had a little surprise inserted into her suitcase.’ 


~~~~~






DEATH MARCH


THURSDAY 15th JULY - 0915 hrs.
The Birdwatcher focused his binoculars on Suzette as she said goodbye to Marianne. He had seen her load the suitcase into the boot of her car so he knew the trap was set. He continued to watch as the delectable Suzette embraced her cousin, got into the car, roared away from the house and started to descend the long, narrow valley towards the hairpin bend above the deep chasm. Taking a little metal box from his pocket, he extended the stubby aerial and pushed up the switch until the red light glowed.
~~~~~
THURSDAY 15th JULY - 0920 hrs.
Three men stood around the suitcase on the table in the main control room at the tracking station. 
‘Is it booby-trapped?’ asked André. 
‘I doubt it,’ replied Jacques, running his fingers around the lining of the empty suitcase. ‘There would be no reason for them to do that. No, there is just some kind of radio device here and a long package taped along the hinge side. Have you tried to open it yet?’ 
‘No,’ said André. ‘You are the expert in these things.’ 
‘Very well,’ he said, unfolding a sharp-bladed knife. ‘Shall we begin?’ 


~~~~~
THURSDAY 15th JULY - 0925 hrs.
The note of the Cosworth engine changed to a bark as Suzette throttled back. The Birdwatcher listened carefully so as to gauge the best time for the detonation, then pressed the button. Nothing happened. The car appeared around the next bend and he tried again. Still nothing. He raised his head and listened as thunder rolled down from the mountain. If it was going to rain, he had better get to his car. 
Suzette took one last look back towards the mountains as she reached the open road at Sorède. That’s odd, she thought, there’s some kind of forest fire on top of the mountain. Still, they’ll soon put it out. Fires were not that unusual at this time of year; probably due to lightning. She thought she had heard thunder a few minutes ago.
~~~~~
FRIDAY 16th JULY - 0900 hrs.
The only overnight stop Suzette made on the way home was in Lyon. There, she slept well and changed out of her shorts and bikini top in favour of a neat, white blouse and a denim skirt far more suitable for the cooler climates. As she started the engine outside the motel in the warm morning sun, she calculated. If she was quick, she might just make Paris by late afternoon. The thieves who had stolen her suitcase from the villa had also taken her passport which had been in the side pocket. However, she had phoned ahead and arranged to collect a permit to leave France from the British Embassy in Paris. Dual nationality was all right, but she still needed an exit visa, even in the European Community. She had been told that it would be waiting for her at the Consular Office in Rue D’Anjou and, after that, she could take the shuttle and be with Gillian in Newmarket by Saturday afternoon. Her friend would show her the ropes for her new life and, for the first time, she was rather looking forward to it. 
Suzette was rarely tempted to break speed limits, but today was going to be an exception. As she emerged from the Tunnel de Fourvière to the north-west of Lyon, she looked into the rear view mirror and saw the car. Did French traffic cops drive Renault 25s, she wondered? A dark blue one had been following her for a few kilometres now as she kept dead-on the speed limit of 81 mph. But she had worried for nothing, he was now coming up to overtake her. Suzette looked across at his face as he drew alongside and started to wind down his car window and raise his right arm. Suzette smiled. Huh! A Renault! She would show him what a British car could do. Looking straight ahead, she dropped down into fourth gear and slammed her foot onto the accelerator. 
The pedal she hit moved the linkage to the fuel-injection pump and a burst of high octane petrol was forced, under tremendous pressure, into the injectors of her Cosworth engine. The diaphragms opened wide and allowed oxygen to flood in through the eight inlet valves and, a tenth of a second later, the Turbo added its fourpenneth. Seven seconds later, she went back into fifth gear as she passed the 138 mph mark with the Renault a mere dot on the rear window. She eased off the accelerator only when the needle of the rev counter touched the edge of the red section. 
The sun was still warm when she reached Paris, turned off the Boulevard Pérépherique at Port St Cloud, drove along the riverside expressway, and eventually parked in the underground car park beneath Avenue Foch. Hating driving in the busy city centre of Paris, she took just her briefcase containing sufficient identification and hailed a taxi. Fifteen minutes later, she was walking towards the reception desk at the British Embassy.
~~~~~
FRIDAY 16th JULY - 1550 hrs.
The phone rang. ‘It’s me,’ said the Birdwatcher as he carefully loaded his automatic rifle. 
‘Is it done?’ asked Colonel Carstairs. 
‘No, the bomb failed to detonate.’ 
‘What? Is she still alive?’ 
‘Yes, I tried to get her on the motorway but she tumbled me and escaped in that racing car of hers.’ 
‘Where is she now?’ 
‘Inside one of the buildings at the British Embassy.’ 
‘You know what this means?’ 
‘No, sir.’ 
‘It means that the game is over. Not only do they know that we know, now our own people know that they know that we know.’ 
‘Pass that one by me one more time.’ 
‘It means, my friend, that you and I are going to have to disappear. I will contact you again if I need you. In the meantime, I’m going a long way away from here.’ 
‘Is there anything else that you want me to do?’ 
‘Yes, it is most important. The girl knows far too much and, therefore, cannot be allowed to return to England under any circumstances. Go and kill her now. Shoot her, stab her, strangle her if you like. But make sure, without fail, that she dies. Do you understand?’ 
The Birdwatcher looked across at the Embassy and rammed the first shot into the breech. ‘It is as good as done.’ 


~~~~~
FRIDAY 16th JULY - 1600 hrs.
Thanking the clerk who had handed her the replacement passport, Suzette turned to leave. The sunshine was bright as she emerged from the visa office and started across the courtyard and out through the wide passageway. 
Through the telescopic sight, the Birdwatcher could clearly see the long, dark hair which bounced behind her smiling, suntanned face and the dark glasses which, he knew, hid those big, brown eyes. He allowed the cross-hairs to drop a little to the vee of her blouse as she skipped across the wide pavement, her black executive case in her hand. 
Pushing back the dark hair from her face, Suzette squinted for a second as a flash of light reflected off something that moved and reflected the sunlight in an open, second-floor window of La Poste sorting office across the street. 
As she paused for a moment at the edge of the kerb, the Birdwatcher was almost tempted to think this was such a waste of a beautiful, twenty-three year old girl. However, he had been given his very specific orders. 
Suzette saw the taxi approaching and the sun was warm on her face and legs as she raised her arm and thought of the short ferry crossing to England. By tomorrow, she would be in Newmarket with Gillian. 
Gradually, the knuckle of his index finger became white as it slowly tightened on the trigger of the high-powered, automatic rifle. 
As the taxi saw her and slowed from behind a bus loaded with foreign tourists, Suzette thought briefly of work. As soon as she got back, she would crack the code lock that the French had placed on the computer programme and find out what they were up to that was so important. But first, a long drive home. 
The Birdwatcher smiled. ‘Goodbye, Sweet Suzette.’ 
He opened fire.






THIRD MOVEMENT


SUNDAY 18th JULY - 1200 hrs.
The four men at the police headquarters building were undecided as to what to do next. The noise of the traffic in the Quai d’Orsay invaded through the open window of the office as the City of Paris sweated under a brief heat-wave. Monsieur le Directeur stood, in a suit and tie despite the heat, ogling the girls of Paris in their mini-skirts and scanty summer-tops as they skipped along beside the Seine, while the three police officers behind him discussed the recent assassination. 
‘Are you sure there is no reason for this girl to have been killed?’ asked the fat Frenchman behind a desk piled high with papers and correspondence. ‘I mean, can you be sure she is totally innocent?’ 
‘Certainement,’ replied the Inspector. ‘I have been right into her background and so has my sergeant. There was no way the assassin could know that there had been an accident which had diverted the traffic nor that this particular tourist was going to be sitting with her friends in the front of that particular open-top bus as it drove past the front of the British Embassy. I am convinced the mysterious assassin must have been aiming at someone else and the bus just happened to get in the way.’ 
‘What have you come up with?’ asked the tall man with the moustache without turning from his external observations. 
‘Nothing which could affect national security, Monsieur le Directeur,’ the Commissioner replied quickly, clearly unhappy about the involvement of the Départment de Sécurité Nationale. ‘I have a list of the people who were in the locality and all of them check out. As far as I can see, there is no-one at all that this English Assassin had any reason to eliminate.’ 
‘Monsieur,’ he turned and faced them. ‘I do not doubt your thoroughness, but this man went to a lot of trouble to get into that post office building opposite the Embassy. He also managed it with a high-powered automatic rifle which loosed off a dozen shots during that single burst of fire. It was very fortunate that this Mademoiselle...’ He consulted his notes. ‘...Hungerford, was the only casualty. He also used highly illegal projectiles which just about tore her to pieces. You’ve seen the body, there was practically nothing left of her. He certainly wanted to make sure that he did the job properly.’ He paused briefly. ‘Now no-one is going to tell me this was some kind of an...accident.’ 
‘You are right, Monsieur le Directeur, he certainly intended killing someone. If not this Hungerford girl, then who?’ 
‘Show me the complete list again.’ He held out his hand, took the clipboard from the policeman and looked down the list of names. ‘What about passers-by? Was there anyone else nearby he could have been shooting at?’ 
‘Very few, Monsieur le Directeur. In fact, the only other person anywhere near the line of fire was a young English woman who had just come out of the British Visa Office.’ 
‘English? What do we know about her?’ 
‘Not much, sir. Only that the girl lives in Cambridge.’ 
‘What was she doing in France?’ 
‘On holiday, she told me. She also has a house just south of Sorède.’ 
The Security chief suddenly stiffened and his eyes closed to slits as he stepped forward. ‘Where did you say?’ 
‘Sorède,’ the gendarme repeated, not seeing any significance. ‘Near Laroque des Albères.’ 
‘That’s odd,’ the Security chief replied, deep in thought. ‘On the morning of the previous day, our satellite tracking station in the Pyrenées was damaged by a bomb.’ 
‘What’s the connection?’ asked the Commissioner. 
‘It is less that two kilometres from Sorède.’ 
‘You think this English girl had something to do with it?’ 
‘I don’t know, but it’s certainly worth looking into.’ He turned to the policeman. ‘What does she do for a living? Do we know?’ 
‘Yes. I managed to get some details from the Embassy.’ He read from his notes. ‘Name - Suzette Blackman (mademoiselle). Occupation - Computer Data Analyst.’ 
The Directeur frowned. ‘What kind of Computer data?’ 
He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t say.’ 
‘So, what do we have?’ he reviewed as he paced the room. ‘We have a Computer Data Analyst who leaves Sorède in a hurry on the very day that our tracking station is damaged and is then in the line of fire of an English assassin at the entrance to the British Embassy. This needs further investigation.’ 
‘Can we help?’ 
‘Non. This matter must be dealt with it in the most appropriate way. It is perhaps better that you all now forget about this case.’ 


~~~~~
MONDAY 19th JULY - 0900 hrs.
The receptionist at S.I.E.D. got the shock of his life, one from which he never recovered - Suzette smiled at him when she collected her post. Observing the hair hanging long and the white blouse and short, dark skirt he was unable to suppress a low whistle which she chose to ignore. 
Suzette’s mail was heavier than normal due to her holiday and the data clerk had arrived with the files before she had finished. ‘Good holiday?’ 
‘Terrific, thanks, Kate. I don’t think I have ever enjoyed one more.’ 
‘Well, you certainly look well on it, and I can see you’ve got a tan to prove it.’ 
Suzette brazenly lifted the hem of her skirt to display deep brown thighs and whispered conspiratorially. ‘What you see is only the half of it.’ 
Kate, more than a little surprised at Suzette’s apparent change in temperament, made her excuses and beat a hasty retreat. After a few moments, Suzette picked up the receiver and pressed a button on her phone. ‘Jim, can you come over a minute.’ 
Her assistant arrived fairly quickly, a smug smile on his face. 
‘How did you manage without me?’ asked Suzette. 
‘Very well, actually. I’m surprised how quickly I got the hang of it.’ 
She smiled. ‘I’m glad.’ 
‘You are?’ He was puzzled, then became wary. ‘I suppose you’ll want to take over the weather data again now you’re back?’ 
‘Not at all. If you think you can handle it, you carry on. There’s something else I want to concentrate on for a few days.’ 
‘And what is that?’ he asked, leaning over her. ‘Some special project?’ 
She kissed the end of her index finger touched his nose with it. ‘That would be telling.’ 


~~~~~
MONDAY 19th JULY - 1530 hrs.
The figures were wrong. Puzzled, Suzette tried again but with the same result. She had finally broken the access code but the data information on her screen definitely did not relate to any of the known weather patterns she had seen during her year at S.I.E.D. Mystified, she took a print-out of the figures and, after consulting it for some time, she stood up, walked over to her manager’s office and knocked on the door. 
‘What is it, Suzette?’ 
‘I don’t know, sir. It’s Princess.’ 
‘What is she up to now?’ he joked. ‘Forecasting snow?’ 
Suzette didn’t laugh. ‘No, sir. Not for several months, I hope.’ She handed him the print-out. ‘This data is from DX section and it doesn’t make sense.’ 
The room fell silent and he slowly looked up from the papers and straight at her. ‘But we don’t have access to DX section. That is in French for the French. We only have access to the weather information in sections AX, BX and CX.’ 
She looked down at her feet. ‘Yes, sir. I know that. It’s just that I’ve broken the access code and got into the main data bank.’ 
He stood up. ‘You’ve done what?’ 
‘I know that it is restricted information, sir, but look at the data on the printout. It has nothing to do with the weather status. The heat-seeking probes on Princess have picked up some other kind of information.’ 
‘Miss Blackman.’ She did not fail to notice the sudden change to the use of her surname. ‘This is very serious, do you know that?’ 
‘Yes, sir. But just look at the data. It’s all wrong.’ 
‘Very well, Miss Blackman.’ He snatched the print-out from her hand. ‘Leave this with me. Have you other, useful, work to do? Work for which you are being paid?’ 
His manner seemed unnecessarily brusque and Suzette was glad to be back at her terminal. Jim and Kate noticed her change in deportment and exchanged knowing looks but did not interfere. Alone, the Manager dialled a number. ‘Dimbleby here. We have a problem.’ 
‘What kind of a problem?’ said the voice. 
‘The girl working on the data from the Satellite has broken the access code to DX section and found out about the ground probes.’ 
‘Has she now? She is a clever little girl, isn’t she? What have you done about it?’ 
‘Sent her back to work on weather data for the time being. What should I do?’ 
‘Suspend her immediately until further notice. We don’t know who she’s working for, do we?’ 
‘Working for?’ 
‘Yes, she’s half French, isn’t she? So we can’t have her discovering too much. Do you think she suspects the implications of what she has found?’ 
‘I’m not sure. She is very intelligent, so it is possible.’ 
‘If she has, she must be eliminated. The issues are too important for this to leak out so soon.’ 
‘Eliminated?’ he was genuinely shocked. ‘You mean killed?’ 
‘Naturally. But you leave it with me. If she suddenly... disappears, just replace her as if she had left normally. Can you do that?’ 
‘Whatever you say,’ he said as he put down the phone and stared at his desk for a very long time.
~~~~~
MONDAY 19th JULY - 1600 hrs.
The Directeur was sitting at his desk when a pretty clerk entered his office. He smiled at her as she handed him the hastily-written message and she blushed as he held her hand for longer than any of the others had ever done. As she left, he glanced at a pair of long legs protruding from below a very short dress and smiled a little as if contemplating imminent nocturnal activities. Returning to reality, he looked at the message and suddenly picked up the phone. ‘Céleste? Get me Jules at Rouen, immédiatement.’ 
‘So, my petite chou,’ he said to himself with a sly smile on his face. ‘You are working for S.I.E.D. are you?’ 
The phone rang. ‘Jules? I have a very important job for you. I want you to pack your toothbrush, you’re going on a little trip to England.’ 


~~~~~
MONDAY 19th JULY - 1700 hrs.
Suzette was furious at being sent home and, to prove it, left black scorch marks on the road at every corner as she drove home. Entering her flat with her heart still drumming against her chest, she threw down her keys and barely suppressed tears as she switched on the TV set with full volume and slumped into the armchair. 
The phone rang and she picked it up roughly. ‘Suzette Blackman.’ 
‘Hi, Suzette. How was France?’ 
‘It was okay, Gill,’ she said as she turned down the TV sound. 
‘Suzette, are you all right? You sound thoroughly miserable.’ 
‘I am thoroughly miserable. I’ve been suspended.’ 
‘Suspended? For going on holiday?’ 
‘No, not that. I’m afraid I found something out I shouldn’t have.’ 
‘Tell me.’ 
‘I don’t know that I can.’ 
‘You mean it’s top secret?’ said the hushed voice. 
‘No, nothing like that. At least, I hope not. It’s just that I don’t understand it myself.’ 
Gillian laughed. ‘Now I’ve heard it all. Something about computers which confuses Suzette Blackman just has to be very complicated.’ 
‘Don’t joke about it Gill. It’s not very funny right now.’ 
‘What has happened? Talk to Auntie Gill.’ 
‘I think someone is trying to kill me.’ 
‘Kill you?’ 
‘Yes. At first, I thought I was imagining things. I kept seeing the same blue Renault behind me whenever I went out.’ 
‘So, some man has taken a fancy to you, has he?’ 
‘I don’t think so. No-one tried to talk to me.’ 
‘I think you had better tell me everything that has happened.’ 
Suzette did. 
‘And this girl in Paris was killed?’ 
‘More than that, she was shot to pieces.’ 
‘Shot to pieces?’ 
‘Gill, stop repeating everything I say. There was blood everywhere.’ 
‘Perhaps she was a spy.’ 
‘I don’t think so. She looked as if she was just on a trip with some friends. There had been a traffic accident somewhere down on the Rue de Fauburg St Honaire. No-one could possibly have known in advance that her bus would be diverted down Rue d’Anjou.’ 
‘And you think this has something to do with your suspension?’ 
‘I really don’t know. I wish I did.’ 
‘Are you sure there isn’t something you’re not telling little Gillian Green?’ 
‘Nothing, Gill. I swear it.’ 
‘This man in the blue car. Have you seen him again since you saw him on the motorway near Lyon?’ 
‘No. All the way home, I watched very carefully but never saw him or his car again.’ 
‘Do you think it was him who killed this girl?’ 
‘I don’t know, Gill. I just don’t know. I’m so confused, especially after today’s trouble.’ 
‘What do you think is going on?’ 
‘I have no idea but I intend to find out. I’ll ring you when I’ve got it sussed.’ 
‘Okay. But don’t mope. It’ll work out, you’ll see. It’s all some big misunderstanding.’ 
‘I hope so, Gill.’ She put down the phone. 
After a few minutes, Suzette rose and, taking off her blouse and skirt, carefully peeled the adhesive tape from the smooth skin of her chest and removed the neatly-folded, copy print-out from down the front of her tiny white panties. Spreading it open on the table she studied it carefully for some time. Eventually, she carried the document into the corner where she uncovered a micro computer terminal and switched it on. She drank one-cal from the fridge as the programme loaded and then spent the next few hours keying in data. 
By dawn the next morning, the flat was a complete mess. There was discarded fanfold paper and rubbish everywhere and a line of empty coffee cups stood on the floor near her chair. Gone was the smart facade of the career girl and, instead, here was a young girl who was beaten, looking very tired and thoroughly frustrated at her lack of progress. In her anger, she slammed down the pencil onto her desk and it broke in two under the force.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 20th JULY - 0300 hrs.
Suzette stirred and looked at the TV which, by now, was issuing a steady static hiss. Reaching out, she turned it off and lay back, staring at the blank ceiling. The frustration had gone. Now there was simply the cold resignation that, after hours and hours of analysis, she had failed to interpret the data from Princess and, on top of that, had probably lost her job in the process. Slipping from the chair to the floor, she lay full-length among the scattered print-outs and just stared. Nothing. Rolling onto her back, she threw her arms above her head and stretched, her stomach rumbling from lack of food. With back arched and body tensed, she stopped suddenly and her eyes flew wide open with inspiration. Slowly, she got to her feet and stepped over to the bookcase and, extracting a particularly large volume, dropped to her knees on the carpet and selected a page. Placing the book squarely on the floor, she picked up a tracing the printer had made of a number of reference points and laid it carefully over the map of Eastern Europe. Gradually, the implications dawned on her and her face became a distorted mask at the total horror of what she had discovered. Reaching for the phone, she dialled a number. A man answered with a grunt. 
‘Jim? It’s Suzette.’ 
‘Suzette? Good grief, girl, do you know what time it is?’ 
‘I’m sorry, Jim. You know I wouldn’t disturb you unless it was very important. Can I come over to see you?’ 
‘At three in the morning? Are you that desperate?’ 
Suzette blushed. Even at twenty-three, she still found veiled innuendoes embarrassing. ‘I really am desperate, Jim. I must see you at once. It’s about Princess.’ 
‘I’m sorry, Suzette, but we’ve all been forbidden to talk to you about work. What is it you have you done?’ 
‘I’ve broken the computer access code to section DX of the satellite data.’ 
‘You did what? No wonder everyone is panicking. You’ve certainly dropped a bombshell at S.I.E.D.’ 
‘Jim, this is important. If what I have found out is true, then I dare not speak over the phone or be seen with you in day time. Please can I come over?’ 
‘What are you wearing?’ 
‘Never mind what I’m wearing or not wearing. Can I come over or is this turning into an indecent phone call?’ 
He sighed and gave her instructions on how to find his cottage.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 20th JULY - 0330 hrs.
The shower was paradise after all that non-stop analysis and she dallied as the warm water ran over her body. Then, drying herself, she slipped into her denim shorts and cropped tee-shirt before quietly descending the stairs. Her car was garaged at the end of the block and she practically ran all the way. There were several cars parked near the isolated garage where she stabled her Cosworth but, due to her tiredness, she saw nothing unusual. Nor, as she opened the up-and-over garage door, did she hear the soft footsteps behind her as she fumbled for her keys. 
Suzette sensed rather than saw the men behind her and turned to run, but it was too late. She saw stars as she was slammed, face down, over the front of her car and her arms were stretched tightly across the bonnet by men who had obviously done this sort of thing before. She opened her mouth to scream but the hand got there first and stifled any sound. Although she struggled frantically to be free, she could not move an inch as she felt hands roughly pulling down her shorts. She panicked as her heart-rate trebled and her eyes opened wide with terror just before the stabbing pain came to her bottom and she gradually faded into unconsciousness.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 20th JULY - 0600 hrs.
It was some two hours before Jim began to worry. He kept looking out of his cottage window which had a clear view across to the main road, but nothing came. A little later, he rang Suzette’s home number but there was no answer. In desperation he frantically rang another number. 
‘Hullo. Police? I wish to report a missing person.’ 
‘Yes, sir,’ came the calm reply. ‘Who is it that is missing?’ 
‘My supervisor at work. A Miss Suzette Blackman.’ 
‘And a description of the lady, sir?’ 
‘Oh, yes. Early twenties, five-foot-six-ish with dark hair, brown eyes and well-suntanned.’ 
‘And what was she wearing when you last spoke to her.’ 
‘Well, er, just her underclothes.’ 
‘I see, sir. And what was she doing so scantily clad, might I ask?’ 
‘I was speaking to her on the phone, constable.’ 
‘Oh.’ He sounded disappointed. ‘And when did this telephone conversation take place?’ 
‘About two hours ago. She was leaving her home in Cambridge to come to my cottage in Wilbraham.’ 
‘At three in the morning? Yes, sir, I think I understand. Perhaps the young lady got cold or changed her mind on the way.’ 
‘Oh, no. She wouldn’t do that.’ 
‘With respect, sir, anything could have happened. I suggest you wait a while, sir and, when she is REALLY missing, give us a call back. Goodnight, sir.’ 


~~~~~
TUESDAY 20th JULY - 0800 hrs.
Suzette half awoke once but saw nothing in the darkness. The vibration she felt seemed somewhat familiar but, in her drowsy state, its significance did not click. She struggled to sit up but firm hands held her down onto the bed and the sharp pain came once more.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 20th JULY - 0900 hrs.
Jim rang the police again and, this time, they promised to look into her disappearance.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 20th JULY - 1800 hrs.
The hunt was on. As soon as the police had been to Suzette’s office at S.I.E.D., the manager reluctantly admitted that something was going on though he didn’t know what. Consequently, all ports were notified and police reserves called in. Every officer in England was given Suzette’s description and that of her car. 
It was not an easy job, particularly with so much holiday traffic about but it was at Portsmouth that the first break came. One of the vehicle loaders, a car racing fanatic, had remembered a white Cosworth by the unmistakable sound of its engine. However, the trail went cold at Le Havre. Jim accompanied the police in case he could recognise her. 
‘I’m sorry, Mr Marshal,’ said the detective sergeant as they stood beside the P&O ferry. ‘But for some strange reason the French Security Department have became involved. There is little more to be done except return to England.’ 
‘But there must be something you can do.’ 
‘I’m afraid not. We rely on good co-operation with our counterparts here but, strangely enough, they seem to have become obstructive.’ 
‘Can I stay?’ 
The policeman shrugged. ‘Of course, if you wish. What do you hope to accomplish?’ 
‘Probably nothing. However, I owe it to Suzette to try.’ 
The Sergeant smiled and held out his hand. ‘Best of luck, Mr Marshal. Keep us informed if you can.’ 
Jim watched him collect his constables and head for the ferry and then returned to the terminal building as it began to prepare for the next arrival. For an hour, he sat near to customs, watching all who came and went. Suddenly, he caught sight of the plain-clothes security officer who had spoken with the sergeant. He was just leaving and heading for a black Citroen parked near the perimeter fence. 
Jim ran for the exit gate and just managed to hail down a passing taxi as the Citroen rolled by, heading towards the city. Together, the two cars by-passed the centre of Le Havre and went along Boulevard Winston Churchill and onto the A15 Autoroute. As they headed towards Rouen, the sun reflected off the massive Pont de Normandie which spanned the wide Seine estuary.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 20th JULY - 1845 hrs.
Suzette shivered as she came round from the third injection Jules had given her. Her arms ached but the feeling had gone out of her hands completely. As her senses returned to something like normal, she discovered that her wrists were lashed together and slung over a large hook so that her feet were just touching the tiled floor. The warehouse was poorly lit but she could see that there were carcasses of meat on other hooks around her, indicating that she was in a cold store of sorts. She shivered again and not just from the temperature. 
There was a bright flash which made her close her eyes. ‘Well, my beauty,’ said the ugly little man with the cigarette lighter as he touched the flame to a hand-rolled job in the corner of his mouth. ‘So you have finally condescended to wake up.’ 
His breath smelt strongly of garlic and stale nicotine as he stepped closer and, after some deliberation, reached out and touched her firm breasts. Suzette closed her eyes as he massaged them gently. After a few minutes his hands moved inside her short cropped top. At the slight laugh from beside her, she realised for the first time that there in fact were several men. They leered at what their colleage was doing, eager to participate. All Suzette’s senses had not returned but as they moved closer and his hands began to squeeze her bare flesh harder, her knee reacted instinctively and he doubled up in agony. ‘Keep your filthy hands off me, you pervert.’ 
The pain was etched into the man’s face as he eventually drew himself erect once more. 
‘You bitch,’ he forced between clenched teeth. ‘I’ll make you pay for that if it’s the last thing I do.’ 
Suzette stared at him defiantly though she was shaking inside. ‘Get lost, animal.’ 
A sly grin came to his face as he undid his stout leather belt and wrapped one end around his hand. It whistled as he swung it around, the heavy brass buckle only millimetres from her exposed skin. He then walked around her a few times as if contemplating where he could inflict the most pain. 
‘I want to fuck her first,’ whined one of the men. ‘You can thrash her tits afterwards. We'll even help you.’ 
‘Me, too, César,’ agreed the third man. ‘I haven’t seriously abused a woman in weeks.’ 
César grinned and began to unzip his flies. ‘Take off her shorts.’ 
The men responded quickly and eagerly. Suzette struggled but she was in no position to defend herself. Within seconds her shorts were off, followed by her skimpy white panties. César grinned his approval. There was not a trace of pubic hair and that’s how he liked his females, who were normally aged between eleven and thirteen years. He stepped closed and nodded to the two other men. ‘Open her legs.’ 
The men willingly complied, grasping her ankles and spreading her wide. César looked her straight in the eyes as he placed one hand over her completely exposed pubic area. His other hand was gently stroking his own growing organ. 
‘Please don’t,’ begged Suzette as the gap closed between his erection and her vagina which he was peeling open with his fingers. She closed her eyes and one finger, then two, slipped inside her. The men holding her legs apart had lifted her top and were paying attention to her bare breasts while César inserted his thumb into her love hole and his fingers into her anus. 
‘Wider,’ he said in little more than a whisper. ‘Open her wider. I think we’ve got ourselves a virgin here, mes amis. Let’s give it to her good and deep.’ 
The men eagerly complied as César moved closer. Suzette felt herself helpless as he peeled her pubic lips apart and she felt his manhood between them, resting right in the entrance to her belly. She tried to relax to minimise the pain of her virginal rape as began to ease himself inside her. 
‘Later, César,’ came the sudden voice from the doorway. ‘Later.’ 
The tall Frenchman stepped in front of Suzette but just out of range of her legs. ‘Right now, I have a few questions for our Mademoiselle Blackman.’ 
Suzette felt a deep shame as a dozen men encircled her. She also felt extremely vulnerable because the men had not let go of her legs. 
The newcomer looked her all over for a moment or two. ‘Well, Mademoiselle Blackman. You have led us a merry chase, haven’t you?’ 
‘What do you mean? Why am I here?’ 
‘You don’t know? Surely you are not that naive. It’s about your work.’ 
‘My work?’ She was now totally confused. ‘You’ve brought me here to ask me about the weather?’ 
‘No, my dear.’ He laughed wickedly as he picked up César’s belt from where he had dropped it. ‘Your terrorist activities.’ 
‘My t..t..terrorist activities?’ she stammered, fear rising in her throat as he moved towards her with the leather strap. This man was not just a sex maniac, he was an evil sadist. ‘I’m not a terrorist, I’m a data analyst.’ 
‘We know that. But how much did they pay you to blow up the tracking station?’ 
‘Tracking station? What tracking station? What do you mean?’ 
‘Don’t play hard to get, Mademoiselle. You will talk, in time.’ He glanced at his colleagues who sniggered. ‘I will give you ten minutes to think it over, then I will ask you again. If you still refuse to give me the answers I require, I will allow my men to use you in any way they wish. When they have finished using you a few times, I will personally flay your pretty boobs to a bloody pulp. If you still remain silent, I will move lower and destroy the parts of you which make you a woman. Externally and........ internally.’ 
‘You c...can’t do that.’ 
‘Oh, but I can, mademoiselle. My men seem to be very eager to show you how they feel about English spies, especially lovely female ones.’ 
Suzette glanced around. The men were indeed eager. César was ecstatic. 
The Director smiled. ‘Ten minutes, Mademoiselle Blackman. Use them well.’ 


~~~~~
TUESDAY 20th JULY - 1900 hrs.
Jim paid off the taxi driver at the gates of the industrial estate and crept cautiously towards the warehouse door. He had no idea as to whether he was on the right track or not, but he had no other lead other than the fact that the man he had followed from Le Havre had been so deliberately evasive when asked to co-operate over Suzette’s abduction. Maybe the English police were powerless for a while, but he wasn’t. If what Suzette had told him was true, her life could be in real danger. He crept to the door of the office and could hear several men talking and, occasionally, arguing. His French was somewhat limited but certain words he understood, like “jeune fille” and “morte”.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 20th JULY - 1905 hrs.
Suzette heard the sound but could not locate it. There it was again, the scraping noise. Rats, she thought, and shuddered. 
‘Suzette,’ came the whisper. She tried to turn but could not because of the ropes. ‘Suzette, it’s me, Jim.’ 
Jim? What was he doing here? 
‘Good grief,’ he said as soon as he could see her clearly. 
Suzette’s heart beat frantically. What was he going to do? In spite of his previous attempts at flirting, he now acted the perfect gentleman. Running across to her, he lifted her clear of the hook and pulled at the knots in the cord which bound her wrists together. ‘Oh, my dear Suzette. What have they done to you?’ 
‘I’m all right,’ she whimpered. The pain was excruciating as circulation began to return to her hands which had turned blue and her lip bled from biting it. 
He looked her up and down. ‘Where are your clothes?’ 
‘They took them away.’ Without hesitation, she flung her arms around him and hugged him tight. ‘Jim, we’ve got to get away from here quickly.’ 
‘Okay. Can you walk?’ 
She nodded and tried to walk on her bare feet. ‘I think so.’ 
Suddenly, there were voices approaching and Jim half carried and half dragged Suzette into a dark corner behind a pile of packing bags. The men stopped, saw the open door and empty cold store and started to argue with each other in French. 
‘I thought someone was supposed to be watching her,’ said the Directeur. 
‘She cannot have gone far,’ whined Jules. ‘She is virtually naked, and alone.’ 
The Directeur held up the rope. ‘Then how did she do this?’ 
‘I don’t know.’ 
‘I suppose you realise that, if she gets away, our plans for a better Europe are finished?’ 
‘She can’t get far,’ he said, ‘I’ve got her car keys.’ 
Splitting up, they went to search for her as Jim and Suzette sat and waited, hardly daring to breathe until the men retreated to the office to decide how to recover the situation. 
Jim rose slowly. ‘They’ve gone. Let’s get out of here.’ 
Before they could move, César appeared round the bales, an evil-looking gun in his hand. 
‘So what have we here?’ he said slyly, aiming straight at Jim who said nothing. ‘I knew if I hung about I would be rewarded with another sight of your pretty little body.’ 
For what seemed like an age, the three of them stood until César was distracted by Suzette who slowly got to her feet near his left side. Slowly, she sauntered towards him. With desire pulsating through his whole body, he turned back to Jim and aimed his gun. ‘Au revoir, brit.’ 
Jim closed his eyes and César sneered just before before Suzette’s long right leg came up like a whip-lash and caught him under the wrist. The sound of the shot seemed to echo all around them as Jim picked up a length of timber and struck out at César will all his might. The Frenchman fell in a heap on the floor. 
‘Good grief, Suzette,’ said Jim as he tied the arms of his anorak around her waist. ‘Wherever did you learn to kick like that?’ 
‘Ballet classes,’ she answered with a sheepish grin, at the same time grabbing his hand and opening the door. ‘Did you see where my car was parked when you arrived?’ 
‘Yes, it’s around the side. But, surely, they’ve got the keys.’ 
‘Yes, but Roger always made me keep a spare one.’ 
They ran, hand-in-hand, until they reached the car and Suzette dropped to her knees and produced a small magnetic box from under the wheel arch. ‘Voila!’ 
They climbed in as quietly as possible. With fumbling fingers, Suzette started the engine and then spun the wheel as she headed for the gates. Most of the feeling had returned to her hands now and her arms were less stiff. 
‘Can you remember from which way you came? I was still a little drowsy when they brought me in.’ 
Jim pointed in the direction he had come. ‘That way, I think.’ 
‘Thanks,’ she said, glancing sideways at him. 
The access road was long and straight as the car roared down it towards the main road. Suzette looked up to see headlights appear in the rear view mirror. Had it been for nothing? Were they both now to be caught and dealt with? After about ten minutes, a cross roads appeared in front of them and she made a decision. Hauling the wheel to the right, she slammed her foot down. Tyres screamed and smoke poured off the tarmac surface. 
Jim’s mouth fell open as he watched her driving. He could see her bare legs lit by the diffused light from the dashboard and they seemed to be in complete control of the pedals. Seeming to sense his observations, Suzette smiled. She could have zipped up the anorak, but she didn’t. He deserved something for rescuing her. 
At the next junction, she stopped. 
‘Which way do we go?’ Jim asked. 
‘I’m not sure. We ought to head for the tunnel but the nearest port is Le Havre. The problem is that I have no passport. They probably forged one for me to get me over here in the first place but I don’t even have the benefit of that now.’ 
‘So what do we do?’ 
‘I don’t know. To cross legally we will have to go to the British Embassy in Paris which will not be open until the morning.’ Seeing the car approaching from behind, she decided to go straight on. 
‘They’re gaining on us,’ said Jim, glancing over his shoulder. 
‘I can’t help it. On a motorway, they couldn’t possibly keep up with my car but on this winding “D” road, we lose that advantage to their local knowledge.’ 
‘Isn’t there a motorway near here?’ 
‘Not till we get to Robert the Devil.’ 
Jim gaped. ‘Who?’ 
Suzette grinned. ‘A mock medieval castle near the river. If we make it that far, we’ll take the A15 back to Le Havre and hope we’re in time for the ten o’clock ferry.’ 
‘What can we do to get back to England?’ 
She thought for a moment. ‘Can you drive?’ 
‘Just a little, but I have no licence.’ 
‘Then one possibility is that you smuggle me through customs in the boot of the car.’ 
‘You’re joking.’ 
‘Not at all. With no passport, dressed like this, how far do you think I’ll get if I drive up to the car ferry?’ 
He looked at her and laughed. ‘I see what you mean.’ 


~~~~~
TUESDAY 20th JULY - 2100 hrs.
There was a shriek of tortured rubber as the Cosworth swerved through the Autoroute toll booths. Alarms rang as she jumped them at full speed with the Citroen in hot pursuit. Suzette’s foot went hard down to the floor on the Autoroute Normandie and they gradually pulled away from their pursuers until they disappeared completely. At over 240 kph, they had not a cat in hell’s chance of catching her.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 20th JULY - 2115 hrs.
The phone rang in the police headquarters at Le Havre and the Captain reached out and picked up the receiver. ‘Oui?’ He stood to attention and waved at his sergeant to turn off the sound of the TV they had been watching in the office. ‘Oui, Monsieur le Chef, Immédiatement.’ 
He put down the phone and spoke into a microphone. ‘Calling all cars. We have instructions from the very highest authority to stop and detain the occupants of a British Ford Cosworth, registration number SMB 1.’ 
Men all over the area responded to the call and, following the instructions that had been issued, check points were set up. At the end of the Pont de Tancarvile, Suzette was forced to stop. She saw the policemen as she drew to a standstill in the brilliantly-lit area in front of them. Letting her head drop to the padded steering wheel, she cried bitterly in her defeat, the tears dripping onto her bare legs as the reflections of the red and blue coloured lights flashed around the interior of her car. Jim tried to comfort her but it was to no avail. If only things had been different. The events of the last few hours had thrown them together and she felt that fate was now to end what they finally seemed to have found in each other. 
Policemen quickly surrounded the car and, a few minutes later, the black Citroen screeched to a halt behind them and there was the sound of running footsteps. The car doors were flung open and Suzette was dragged roughly from the car. 
‘So, my pretty one,’ snarled the Directeur, hatred written all over his face. ‘You force me to take the only action I have left to me.’ 
The barrel of his revolver slowly traced a line from her belly button up to the bottom of her breastbone and he pushed hard as his thumb pulled back the hammer. She winced with the pain but there was no fear this time. She had taken enough and it was now going to end, right here on this red iron bridge. She closed her eyes. 
‘Monsieur le Directeur?’ The Sergeant of Police asked respectfully of the tall man. 
‘Oui, c’est moi,’ proudly replied the French Security chief, still staring at Suzette’s face, inches from his, her death mere seconds and millimetres away. 
The sergeant glanced fleetingly at Suzette standing barefoot, with Jim’s anorak around her shoulders, and then addressed the Security Directeur. ‘Vous êtes en état d’arrestation.’ 
There was a stunned silence as the Directeur hesitated. It seemed he had been caught up in the loops of red tape, but he could still kill her. Just the slightest pressure of his finger and she would be out of their hair for ever. A clicking sound made him glance at the Sergeant and his men. The guns which were now pointed straight at him convinced him that further resistance was pointless. He dropped his gun and Suzette opened her eyes. 
‘There will be another day, Mademoiselle Blackman,’ he said quietly as he was handcuffed. ‘We will meet again very soon and then it will be too late for you to interfere in our plans. I promise you that the next time I see you, you will be very dead.’ 


~~~~~






CURTAIN CALL


TUESDAY 27th July - 0700 hrs.
The two riders trotted silently out of the early-morning mist which had enshrouded Newmarket Heath in a damp blanket, a mist which the sun was trying desperately to penetrate. Some way away, close to the trees, the man with the pale raincoat and binoculars watched them from beside his Peugeot. It was the same routine as yesterday, he thought to himself. Onto the heath by six, back to the stables by seven-fifteen, then off to the flat for a change into city clothes and to work by nine. A thoroughly monotonous routine for an English terrorist.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 27th July - 0715 hrs.
Suzette jumped from her horse and handed the reins to one of the stable lads with a smile of thanks. Pulling off her hard-hat, her long hair cascaded to her shoulders as she smiled at her companion. ‘Thanks, Gill. I enjoyed that.’ 
‘You’ve only been at it a few days,’ replied the shorter, fair-haired girl as they walked out of the stable-yard. ‘Wait till you’ve been doing it as long as I have. Then it will really get right into your blood.’ 
‘I wish I could,’ Suzette replied almost sadly as they walked towards where her car was parked. ‘But, I’ve got work to do.’ 
‘You got your job back then?’ 
‘Oh yes. Mr Dimbleby had no option really. I think he is as confused as I am about what is happening.’ 
‘Are you still listening to Princess?’ 
‘Of course. How else would we know what the weather is going to be like? The heat probes on the satellite measure all the convection currents in the upper atmosphere and...’ 
‘Now don’t you start getting technical, young lady, I’m just a simple country girl. Changing the subject, how’s the love affair coming along?’ 
Suzette turned to face her friend. ‘Gill, I keep telling you. It is not a love affair. I am very grateful to Jim for rescuing me from those horrible men in France but I’m not totally besotted, you know.’ 
Gillian sighed. ‘And here I was thinking I was hearing wedding bells, or at least bed springs.’ 
‘You, above all people, ought to remember that I don’t go in for that sort of thing.’ 
‘Suzette, you’re old fashioned, you know that? It must be the French half of you.’ 
The taller girl laughed. ‘Probably.’ 
‘How about bringing Jim over to Exning tonight for a drink. I’ve just met this gorgeous feller I want to show off.’ 
She opened the door of her Cosworth and climbed in. ‘I’ll ask him. I expect he’ll jump at the chance.’ 
‘Suzette,’ said Gillian suddenly, her hand on her arm. ‘Please be careful.’ 
Suzette smiled. ‘Don’t worry. Those men, whoever they are, are now locked up. At the moment, I’m getting all the help and co-operation I could ask for. All I’m not allowed to do is ask questions.’ 
‘You really think there is something sinister behind all this?’ 
‘I wish I knew. However, everything seems peaceful at the moment.’ She closed the door. ‘See you tonight.’ 
Gillian nodded with a faint smile and then watched her friend as she roared off towards Cambridge. She shook her head slowly.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 27th July - 0800 hrs.
The phone rang in the French Intelligence headquarters in Paris. ‘Allo. Oui.’ 
‘C’est moi,’ said the familiar voice. 
‘Bonjour, Philippe. How’s England?’ 
‘Trés bien, Louis. I’ve made contact with Mademoiselle Green.’ 
‘Good. Remember, softly does it. We don’t want to frighten either of them off.’ 
‘D’accord. Tell me, is this Mademoiselle Blackman really a British spy?’ 
‘Why do you ask?’ 
‘She just appears so innocent, that’s all.’ 
‘Don’t let looks deceive you, Philippe. Remember Maria Holst of the Black September? She has killed at least thirty people to my knowledge, many of them innocent bystanders.’ 
‘I see what you mean. I’ll be careful.’ 
‘You do that. In the meantime, just remember. Monsieur le Première has given very specific instructions to me to make sure that nothing happens to her. She’s the only positive link we have with the Satellite.’ 


~~~~~
TUESDAY 27th JULY - 0900 hrs.
‘Good morning, Jim,’ greeted Suzette as she hung up her jacket on the hook. 
Jim was always early and had already switched on the terminals which provided the data from the mainframe computer that linked them with Princess. 
She kissed him on the cheek. ‘Are you still doing it the hard way?’ 
Jim frowned. ‘Doing what the hard way?’ 
‘Setting up for the day. Why don’t you use the method I showed you?’ 
‘Because it’s not in the instruction manual and I don’t want to make a mistake.’ 
‘Jim, I told you before. You are more likely to make an error by entering all the data by hand than letting the computer set up itself.’ 
‘How can you be sure it is correct?’ 
‘Because I wrote the program, that’s why.’ 
‘You wrote it?’ 
‘Well adapted it, shall we say. The autoboot program was already installed to initially set up all the constants and establish a subroutine framework for the variables. All I did was to add a few lines to get it to additionally load in the closing data I saved to disc the day before. It saves an awful lot of time in the mornings.’ 
‘How did you manage to get into the main data file? It’s locked.’ 
‘Only electronically, by the software itself. Move over and I’ll show you.’ 
She sat beside him and he could feel her warmth through her thin woollen jumper. He would love to get her into his cottage but, despite the recent, sudden change in temperament, she was definitely not having any funny business. 
‘Go to the C prompt and pull up the directory.’ 
He did and the screen filled with the list of programmes on the hard disk. 
‘Now key in “type scan.ini”.” 
Jim followed her instructions. 
‘There you go. Now you have a list of the instructions used by Princess. Simple isn’t it?’ 
‘Does Dimbleby know you’ve done this?’ 
‘Good Heavens, no. He’d have a fit at the thought of someone messing about with his precious programme.’ 
Jim peered at the print-out as it fed from the machine. ‘What’s all this other information? It looks a long file to me.’ 
‘It is. The programme sets up all the variables the main program uses and then adjusts certain criteria. Tell me. During your training in Paris, where did they tell you Princess was located?’ 
Jim consulted his training notes. ‘The Photoconductive Radiation Network Communications Satellite is in a geosynchronous orbit twelve point five degrees East of Greenwich.’ 
‘Wrong,’ she stated firmly. 
Jim looked puzzled. ‘Wrong? How?’ 
‘Look at this line..’ She pointed to the monitor screen. 
‘“angle=angle+DEG(ASN*0.5)” What on earth is that gibberish?’ 
‘That’s not gibberish,’ she laughed. ‘It’s trigonometry.’ 
‘What does it tell us?’ 
‘Basically that Princess is not where we were told she was but 28.5 degrees further east. In other words, she is not stationary over Gabon and scanning across the Sahara as we were told but over Somali and scanning up the Red Sea.’ 
‘What would be the point of hiding that fact?’ 
‘I wish I knew. I only have a theory. Take me out for a drink tonight and I’ll explain it all to you.’ 
He smiled. ‘You’re on.’ 


~~~~~
TUESDAY 27th JULY - 1500 hrs.
Philippe rang the Chief of French Security. ‘The meeting is set up for tonight.’ 
‘So you’ve made contact?’ 
‘Still only with the friend at the stables. Mademoiselle Blackman still suspects nothing.’ 
‘Good,’ Louis replied then paused. ‘There is something you should know.’ 
‘Yes?’ 
‘The Directeur has escaped from custody.’ 
There was a long pause before the agent replied. ‘This could ruin everything. He always wants to do things his own way.’ 
‘I am aware of that, Philippe. But let me handle that. In the meantime, don’t get too friendly with the girls. It may make the next part of your job harder.’ 
‘Stop worrying, mon ami. When the time comes, I will do whatever is necessary.’ 


~~~~~
TUESDAY 27th JULY - 1945 hrs.
The pub looked crowded as Jim and Suzette arrived in her Cosworth, and the sound of music drifted across the sleepy dormitory village for Newmarket and Cambridge. There seemed to be people everywhere, drinking and dancing, but they soon located Gillian and her new friend. Introductions were shouted above the noise of the disco which vibrated their glasses on the table. 
When Suzette had arrived at Jim’s cottage, he had been speechless at the sight of the skin-tight denims and some sort of armless tee-shirt she seemed in imminent danger of falling out of. Gillian wore a “Kiss me Quick” sweat shirt and a short, white, pleated skirt. Both men wore sweaters and trousers. 
‘Suzette,’ introduced Gillian, ‘This is my new friend, Phil. He’s in town for a few weeks on a course.’ 
‘Pleased to meet you, Phil,’ Suzette said pleasantly, shaking hands. ‘What kind of a course?’ 
He shrugged. ‘Just observing and reporting local events. Quite boring really.’ 
‘I see.’ Something about the man’s lazy smile kicked Suzette hard under the ribs so she suddenly pulled Jim forward to hide her embarrassment. ‘This is Jim, he works with me at S.I.E.D.’ 
‘I’ve heard all about your work,’ Philippe said to Suzette as he shook hands with Jim. ‘Is it exciting?’ 
‘Analysing weather data? Exciting? I’ve heard it called a lot of things but never exciting, eh Jim?’ 
‘Oh, it has its moments,’ Jim admitted. ‘It means working with the best looking girl in Cambridge and that can’t be all bad.’ 
‘Jim’ she laughed pleasantly. ‘Flattery will get you everywhere.’ 
‘I certainly hope so,’ he said so that Suzette scowled in response. ‘Come on, let’s dance.’ 
They danced and drank for a couple of hours as the music pulsated around them, Suzette sticking firmly to orange juice. Jim watched her carefully for the inevitable fallout to occur but was sadly disappointed. Suzette had decided to wear Roger’s leaving-school present but had made certain adjustments. She was prepared to be more friendly than ever before but was not yet ready to allow her assets to be forced onto the open market. 
Philippe and Gillian stuck very close to each other all evening, only swapping for a couple of dances. It was during the second one, a slow smoochy one, that Suzette developed a feeling she could not explain. 
‘Where are you from?’ she asked as they swayed together slowly in time with the music. 
‘Oh, south of here,’ he said vaguely. ‘And you?’ 
‘I’ve always lived around Cambridge.’ 
‘Do you have any family?’ 
‘Very little. My parents are both dead but I have a brother around somewhere. I haven’t seen him for almost a year.’ 
‘I hear from Gill that you have just come back from France. Do you go there often?’ 
‘Not as often as I’d like to. My mother was French and had a house there. She was living there when she met my father during the war.’ 
‘In France?’ 
‘Yes. He was a radio operator and was taken in at the end of the war to report on German troop movements.’ 
‘Whereabouts in France?’ 
‘Mother lived with her family just near a mountain village called Sorède.’ 
‘Are any of them still alive?’ 
‘Yes, though not many. My uncle Raoul runs a restaurant just outside Laroque des Albères and his daughter, Marianne, helps him.’ 
‘Did your mother have any other brothers or sisters?’ 
‘Yes, but they were all killed. Grandfather Pétrone was the resistance leader, you see. The Germans killed them all except Raoul who escaped with my father.’ 
‘What happened to your father?’ 
‘He died in the Falklands Conflict. Dad was a regular forces man all his life.’ 
‘And both your parents survived till recently?’ 
‘Father did. Mother died when I was a child.’ 
‘I’m sorry. Do you spend much time in France?’ 
‘I used to. Although much of the land our family owned in the valley has been sold off to developers over the years, I still have mother’s house which has now been renovated into a modern villa. One day, when I have finished my work here, I will retire there and live in the sun.’ 
He laughed. ‘That’s a long time in the future.’ 
‘Not really. You see, I plan to retire at thirty.’ 
He held her tight for a moment and that feeling came to her again. Was this love? If not, why was her heart beating so fast? She looked into his eyes and his lips moved closer to hers and she didn’t pull away. Millimetres separated them when the music stopped. It was a long time before they dragged themselves apart and back to where Jim and Gillian were deep in conversation and, soon, it was time to go and they reluctantly said their goodbyes. 
That night was very much cooler than of late and the evening was slightly misty as she reversed out of the car park and headed towards Jim’s cottage. The roads were virtually empty and they were in Wilbraham in less than fifteen minutes. 
‘Are you coming in for coffee?’ Jim asked as he got out of the car. 
‘I don’t think so,’ she said, unsure whether to trust him completely but not wanting to offend him. ‘But thanks.’ 
‘But you promised to explain about the significance of the satellite being out of position,’ he reminded her. 
‘Will you promise to behave yourself?’ She was not totally sure of his intentions and wishing now that she had not deliberately dressed so provocatively. 
He grinned. ‘No. But I’ll promise to try.’ 
‘All right, just a short while then,’ she conceded. He opened the door to his exquisite, olde-world cottage and they stepped inside. Kettle on, they sat in the low-beamed kitchen and talked. 
‘Have you got a map of Europe and the Middle East?’ 
‘I’ve got a big world map on the wall of my study,’ he said, standing up as the kettle boiled. ‘Will that do?’ 
‘It’ll do for the purposes of the experiment.’ 
He picked up the cups. ‘Coffee is served. Step into my parlour, said the spider to the fly.’ 
‘Jim, stop it,’ she warned him as she followed him. His “study” was, in fact, an extension to his bedroom and she realised that she would have to be very careful. 
‘Right. There’s your map. What else do you want?’ 
‘Torch?’ 
‘Okay, here.’ He opened the desk drawer, extracted a rubber torch and handed it to her. 
‘Now then. Where shall I start?’ 
‘Tell me where Princess is.’ 
‘Right.’ She held the torch and pointed. ‘Can you turn off the light, it will make it easier.’ 
‘It certainly will. Lights off.’ She glared at him but the look was lost in the darkness. 
‘Now, there’s the equator,’ she indicated. ‘Princess has to be over the equator to remain in a static position. Now that is where she’s supposed to be.’ She pointed and then moved her finger to the right. ‘And that’s where she really is.’ 
‘Why that must be...,’ he calculated, ‘over a thousand miles farther east.’ 
She nodded. ‘Correct.’ 
‘But wouldn’t that upset the scanning pattern?’ 
‘It would change it, certainly. But the pattern would have to be quite large anyway. At Cambridge, we can read data for all of Britain as far north as the Shetlands. The French would certainly want to cover all of France and probably Corsica and the Mediterranean as well.’ 
‘That’s a pretty large area.’ He drew a circle with his finger. 
‘Jim, hold on. It’s not a circle. Look, hold the torch over Gambia but shine it towards France.’ 
He did. 
‘Up a bit so that it includes Scotland. There. Now what shape is that?’ 
‘Sort of egg-shaped.’ 
‘Yes and with its concentration over Central France. You see, your light only really covers France and Britain which is what we were told it was intended to do. Sections AX, BX and CX are here, here and here,’ she pointed on the map. 
‘So if Princess is over Somali,’ he asked, puzzled. ‘How does that affect the scanning area?’ 
‘Move your torch to the right. Stop. Now turn it so that it covers France and Britain again. That’s it. Now, what do you see?’ 
‘It doesn’t cover all of France.’ 
‘So, move the torch further away from the map, as if Princess was further away. Geosynchronous satellites are normally fixed at a height of 35,000 kilometres, but there is no reason at all why Princess should not be in a slightly higher orbit.’ 
‘I suppose that makes sense provided she was heavier and the escape velocity was balanced to compensate.’ 
‘So,’ she said. ‘Keep moving away from the map until the beam covers all of France and Britain. Stop, that’s it. Now what do you see?’ 
‘It covers Italy and Switzerland as well.’ 
‘Have you got a pencil?’ 
‘Yes. Here.’ He handed a soft pencil to her and she traced a line following the right hand edge of the elongated oval pattern of light. 
‘Could you put the light on now?’ 
‘Spoil-sport.’ 
‘I’ll go,’ she threatened. 
‘Please don’t,’ pleaded Jim and turned on the light. 
She sat on the edge of the desk. ‘Now look at the places intersected by that line. What does that indicate to you?’ 
‘The old Iron Curtain?’ 
‘Exactly.’ She rested her case. ‘Princess not only scans France and Britain but also the entire length of what was the Iron Curtain from the Baltic to the Mediterranean.’ 
Now he was really confused. ‘Why on earth would the French want to know about the weather in Slovenia?’ 
She laughed. ‘They don’t. Princess also has ground probes.’ 
‘Ground probes?’ 
‘That’s what section DX is all about. Probes which measure heat emissions on the ground. Any movement of vehicles and/or personnel will be picked up by the Satellite.’ 
He was dismayed. ‘But there must be millions of movements every day.’ 
‘True. But you’ve heard of by-pass filters?’ 
He nodded. 
‘Apply the same principle to scanning. Just suppose that the French have developed some way of isolating certain types of emission, say from a tank or an armoured personnel carrier.’ 
‘Can that be done?’ 
‘Oh, yes. Use multiple FOR...IF...NEXT loops and, given time and available memory space, any fool like me could do it.’ 
‘Suzette. You are definitely not a fool.’ 
‘I’m glad you think so. You see, the main computer could be programmed to measure the ambient temperature, like we do at S.I.E.D. Then it could make a comparison of the air temperature with any source of emissions, leave out cars and small groups of people and, bingo, you have a satellite that can give early warning of troop movements anywhere in Eastern Europe.’ 
‘But what about aircraft or missiles?’ 
‘Simple. Program the computer to eliminate any single movements along the normal air corridors.’ 
‘No wonder certain people were worried when you broke the security code.’ 
‘But Jim.’ She dropped the bombshell. ‘Did you not notice when we looked at the disk directory today? There is also a section EX.’ 
‘If AX, BX and CX are in the atmosphere and DX is on the ground, where does EX scan?’ 
‘Below ground level.’ 
‘Below ground level? How on earth can it scan under the ground?’ 
‘It can’t, not effectively.’ 
‘Then why...?’ 
‘Look at the scan pattern again. Follow the line north or south and where does it lead?’ 
‘Right across the Baltic or the Mediterr...a...ne.an. The penny’s dropped.’ 
‘I rather hoped it would. It measures any heat emissions beneath the surface of the sea.’ 
‘Submarines?’ 
‘Exactly. No underwater craft could move anywhere west of Greece or Norway without being pinpointed at once. My guess is that it is programmed to eliminate normal shipping and NATO movements. Now do you see the value of Princess?’ 
‘I certainly do. But will it be of use any more? Surely now that the Soviet Union has been disbanded, such a sophisticated early-warning system would no longer be necessary.’ 
‘Wouldn’t it? Russia and the other ex-Soviet states probably still have a considerable amount of hi-tec weaponry.’ She smiled wryly. ‘And there’s always the unpredictable Chinese.’ 
‘And if this system is unknown to the world in general...’ He suddenly sat upright. ‘What’s that?’ 
‘What?’ 
‘That sound. There’s someone outside.’ 
‘Don’t be silly, Jim. You’re imagining things.’ She stood up to go. 
A shadow passed across the window. Jim leapt for her and they crashed onto the bed as all the lights went out.
~~~~~
WEDNESDAY 28th JULY - 0030 hrs.
They lay together on the bed in the darkness, listening for any further sound, expecting an attack of some sort but all was peaceful. Eventually, Jim crept to the window and peered round the curtain but he could see nothing. 
‘With what you know, you could be a danger to all sorts of people,’ he whispered. ‘We may have made our peace with the Soviets but not everyone trusts them completely. You need protection.’ 
Suzette got up from the bed. ‘Jim, I’m scared.’ She stood beside him, holding his arm and, together, they listened. After some minutes, a car started up nearby and all became quiet once more. Cautiously, Jim opened the front door and looked outside but all was silent. After several minutes of messing around with fuses, the lights came on again. 
‘They must have tripped out for some reason. They’ve never done that before.’ 
‘Who could it have been?’ 
‘I don’t know. It could have been anybody, I suppose.’ 
Suzette stepped away from Jim and wrapped her arms around herself, pacing the room slowly. ‘I may have put you in danger, too, with my being too nosy.’ 
‘Don’t let it worry you. I can take care of myself. You, too, if you’ll let me.’ 
She looked up sharply. ‘I need time, Jim.’ 
‘I know that.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Coming back to what you were saying earlier, what I can’t understand is, what if there was a movement of troops when we’re not at SIED? We’re only there during the day.’ 
‘True, but the main computer is receiving data twenty-four hours a day and there could be others watching, too, using the same information. At the office, we only analyse at the terminals during the daytime. There is probably a duplicate computer somewhere in France, probably close to Rouen.’ 
‘Rouen? Why Rouen?’ 
‘Because that’s where was I taken when I was kidnapped by French Security.’ 
‘You’re a genius.’ 
‘A very frightened one. Can I take you up on your offer?’ 
‘Which one?’ 
‘To stay the night.’ 
‘Does that mean what I think it means?’ 
‘If it really has to be a precondition, I guess it does.’ 
He took her face gently in his hands and looked into her big, brown eyes. ‘Suzette, in the morning I’ll think I’ve been a crazy person for saying this. You are a very, very lovely person and I like you and want you very much. But I will not take advantage of the situation. I will wait until you are ready.’ 
‘Jim.’ she smiled and kissed his hands. ‘Thank you for understanding.’ 


~~~~~
WEDNESDAY 28th JULY - 0200 hrs.
The giant Petrovic supertanker raised anchor in the southern Black Sea and began to slip quietly through the Bosporus. American spy satellites observed and recorded its slow progress towards the Mediterranean. What they neither observed nor recorded were the two brand-new Malinov series nuclear missile submarines gliding silently beneath her broad belly.
~~~~~
WEDNESDAY 28th JULY - 0730 hrs.
Morning came to Cambridgeshire and Suzette awoke, puzzled at the strange surroundings for a while. Then she remembered. Jim was already up and the smell of bacon permeated the small cottage. She sat on the soft bed, hugging her knees and smiling to herself. What a silly pair they were, frightened by shadows in the night. They had probably heard nothing more than some courting couple in the lane. Eventually, a knock came on the door and Jim came in with breakfast and they ate together in silence. 
Suzette looked at her watch. ‘Oh Blow.’ 
‘What is it?’ 
‘I’ve missed my early morning ride with Gill. I wonder if she is worried.’ 
Jim smiled. ‘She probably thinks you have spent the night in bed with me.’ 
‘Well, I haven’t, so don’t you dare go around suggesting I have.’ 
He looked at her. ‘I love you too much to do a thing like that.’ 
‘If you really do,’ she said, holding his hand for a moment. ‘You will continue to be patient.’ 
Jim nodded and they finished eating in silence. Eventually, they were ready to leave for work. As they went out of the front door, Jim caught her by the shoulders. ‘Suzette, move in here with me.’ 
‘Jim, I can’t.’ She looked down at the floor to avoid his stare. ‘It wouldn’t be right.’ 
‘But everybody does it.’ 
She looked up at him with fire in her eyes. ‘Then ask everybody. I’m not everybody, I’m me.’ 
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.’ 
‘Jim.’ She softened and touched his face gently. ‘Thank you for asking and caring. Ask me again later. Please.’ 


~~~~~
WEDNESDAY 28th JULY - 0800 hrs.
Clear of the Dardanelles, Malinov One sank to 120 metres and rigged for silent running while Malinov Two continued into the Aegean. They were now completely in the clear and could not be detected by the American Spy Satellites.
~~~~~
WEDNESDAY 28th JULY - 1300 hrs.
When Philippe rang in routinely, he found that Louis was deeply disturbed. ‘Something’s happening.’ 
‘What is it?’ 
‘I don’t know. You’ve got to get that Blackman girl here and quickly.’ 
‘How can I do that?’ 
‘Persuade her.’ 
‘Alors, that didn’t work last time when Monsieur le Directeur tried it. If we were take her now against her will, we could lose everything we have gained.’ 
‘We don’t have the time to argue,’ said Louis, getting agitated. ‘The satellite is churning out some very irregular data and there’s no-one here able to decipher it properly. We need her.’ 
‘Very well. I’ll see what I can do.’ 
‘Remember, Philippe. A lot of lives are at stake.’ 
‘Leave it to me. I’ll get her there somehow.’ 


~~~~~
WEDNESDAY 28th JULY - 1710 hrs.
Work for the day over, Suzette said her goodbyes and walked towards the car park. It seemed like everyone was going home into the Cambridge rush hour. 
‘Will I see you later?’ asked Jim as they parted outside the foyer. 
She smiled. ‘Yes, I’ll pick you up at seven.’ 
Cars were starting up all over the car park but there was one unusual one. It crawled slowly across the access way and stopped beside her. 
‘Miss Blackman?’ said the heavily-accented voice. 
‘Yes, what do you want?’ she replied pleasantly to the young man in the brown jacket. 
The rear door opened. ‘Get in the car, Miss Blackman. Quietly, and you won’t get hurt.’ 
She looked around her but was alone in that part of the car park. Jim was heading for the bus stop at the far side and he turned to wave and saw her hesitating beside the strange car. The sawn-off twelve bore protruded from the open window as her hands went to her face. Suddenly, another car - a blue Peugeot - approached with a screech of tyres, its headlights blazing and horn blasting. The man in the car next to her was distracted so Suzette took the opportunity and ran. A shot was fired but she felt no pain and there was a lot of confusion and screeching of tyres and brakes as she fell into Jim’s arms. A car was heading straight for them both, headlights full on and, frantically, Jim pushed her to one side as the impact came and he rolled over on the ground. The car stopped and reversed, its doors flung open, and without warning, she was grabbed from behind and flung violently to the ground. Stunned and more than a little confused, she looked up as a man stood with legs astride her and she saw the gun. It fired. After what seemed like hours, she found herself being helped to her feet. 
‘Jim?’ she queried, still dazed. 
‘The others will look after him,’ said Philippe. ‘Are you able to drive?’ 
She nodded and fumbled for her keys. 
‘Get in your car and head for London while I hold them off. I’ll meet you at the French Embassy.’ 
She hesitated but felt his sense of urgency and obeyed. He raised his gun and fired again. Frantic to get away, she jumped into her car, started the engine and pulled quickly from her parking place. Rolling past the front of the building, she saw the injured Jim being helped to his feet by two other men. She stopped beside them and threw open the car door. ‘Jim, get in, quickly.’ 
Cars swerved to miss her as, with tyres screaming, she launched her Cosworth from the car park exit at high speed and headed towards the M11. 
The Cosworth engine is no ordinary engine. Even without the modifications Roger had carried out, the Turbo-charged, fuel-injected, 16-valve racing engine develops 204bhp when pushed and the low-rev torque is phenomenal. It is two miles to the motorway, but she made it in little over a minute. Several cars appeared to be following her so she held her foot hard down to the floor. There is little vibration in the RS Cosworth below 140mph. Above that, the steering wheel and dash panel start to vibrate slightly in harmony. Tonight, it was in discord as the needle swept past 150. 
‘Where are we going?’ asked Jim. 
‘To the French Embassy in Knightsbridge.’ 
‘Why there?’ 
‘Because Phil said so. He saved both our lives back there, and I intend to find out what all this is about. If going to London solves it, then we go to London.’ 


~~~~~
WEDNESDAY 28th JULY - 1900 hrs.
At the French Embassy, Suzette paced up and down whilst the nurse put bandages around Jim’s head and arm. 
After some time, the door opened and Philippe walked in. ‘Well, Suzette. You can certainly fly when you want to, can’t you?’ 
‘Phil.’ She was barely controlling herself. ‘You had better start explaining what all this is about. Why did you want me here?’ 
‘Because of Princess.’ 
‘Is that what this is all about?’ she said, suddenly angry. ‘You were sent to England to spy on me, weren’t you?’ 
‘Yes, I was,’ he admitted quietly with head bowed. 
‘You rat.’ She was livid and he just stood there as she repeatedly slapped his face. ‘You’ve been using Gill. You deceived my best friend.’ 
He grabbed her by the wrists as she breathed heavily and struggled to be free so she could start on him again and get him totally out of her system. ‘Suzette. It was necessary. I had to keep close to you.’ 
‘Close to me?’ She stopped struggling and became wary. ‘Why?’ 
‘Again, because of Princess. We need you in France immediately.’ 
‘After that last little escapade?’ The feeling of humiliation and revulsion swept over her once more. ‘You have just got to be joking.’ 
‘Suzette,’ he said, grasping her by the arms. ‘Please listen to me. How much do you know?’ 
She looked at Jim. ‘About what?’ 
‘Don’t be coy, we don’t have time. You were discussing it at Jim’s cottage the other night.’ 
‘How do you...? So it was you outside in the lane?’ 
He nodded. ‘Naturellement.’ 
Her face was an inch from his. ‘You bloody peeping Tom.’ 
‘Suzette.’ He backed away. ‘It was necessary.’ 
‘Who were those other men? Were they French, too?’ 
‘No, they were trying to take you out of circulation and prevent you going to France at all costs.’ 
‘Why?’ 
‘Because they are afraid of what Princess has discovered and that we might find out.’ 
‘What has Princess discovered?’ 
‘If we knew that, we wouldn’t need you to interpret the data. We just know something is very wrong and you are the only person who can help.’ 
‘Why should I?’ 
‘How about to save millions of lives?’ 
‘I don’t believe you.’ 
‘Did you believe those men in Cambridge?’ It was Philippe’s turn to get angry. ‘Why do you think they wanted you to go with them? For a holiday in the Bahamas? Suzette, wake up, girl. We are on the brink of something deadly and need you desperately.’ 
‘Very well. One one condition.’ 
‘What’s that?’ 
‘Jim comes, too.’ 
He turned away. ‘That’s not possible.’ 
‘Then I stay here in England.’ 
Phil looked at his colleague who nodded. ‘Very well, we’ll fly tonight.’ 
‘I’m not flying anywhere, I hate flying.’ 
‘But I have the helicopter ready.’ 
She thought for a moment. ‘In that case, there is one way to be assured of my complete co-operation.’ 
‘And what is that?’ 
‘Go and collect Gill from Newmarket. I’ll ring her and tell her to meet you at Cambridge airport.’ She took Jim by the hand and then deliberately held him close. ‘Jim and I are going to take a cabin together on the overnight ferry and, if we get up in time, we will meet you in Rouen sometime tomorrow.’ 


~~~~~
THURSDAY 29th JULY - 1500 hrs.
The five of them sat around the table in the office at Rouen. Despite Suzette’s deliberate attempt to provoke Philippe, Jim had slept for the whole of the journey from the sedative that had been administered by the embassy nurse. At first, Suzette had been disappointed. She had not particularly wanted her first experience of physical love to be like she had stated but it would have been worth it to feel she had got her own back on Philippe who had meant so much to her since the night of the disco. However, with the coming of the dawn, she was glad that she was still intact. Not only would she have made a whore of herself if she had gone through with it, but it would also have been humiliating for Jim to have been used in such a manner. It was, therefore, a very frustrated Suzette who finished her coffee after her arrival. 
‘Well, do you look at the data?’ asked a tense Philippe. 
‘That’s why I am here,’ she said in a business-like tone of voice, unable to meet his eyes. ‘Lead the way.’ 
‘We can’t all go,’ Philippe muttered. ‘We won’t get security clearance for Jim and Gill.’ 
‘Too bad,’ Suzette insisted stubbornly ‘It’s all of us or none of us. You can’t force me to do this, you know. If the risk really is that great from what I’m going to do, I want my friends with me.’ 
She looked determined so Louis agreed and they took the stairs down under the ground. The computer room was not dissimilar to her Cambridge office so she quickly sat down and switched on all the terminals. 
‘Jim,’ she said with a smile which encouraged speedy recovery. ‘Would you check the status of AX, BX and CX, please?’ 
‘Right!’ he said and sat down at the console and began to key-in the data. 
She turned to Louis. ‘Monsieur. Is the data confusion in DX or EX?’ 
The Chief of Security hesitated. 
‘I need to know. Is the problem on the ground or under the sea.?’ 
‘You...you really do know about DX and EX?’ 
‘Louis, I’m not a fool. What am I looking for? It will save us all a lot time if you tell me.’ 
He sighed. ‘It’s in EX. This computer is programmed to emit a signal if the data is outside certain tolerances.’ 
She punched the buttons and settled down for a long data run while Philippe paced and then lit a cigarette. 
‘Phil, please. If you want my help, don’t poison me or Princess.’ 
‘Sorry,’ he said, stubbing it out. 
‘How safe are we here?’ Gillian asked of Louis as her eyes ran over the structure. 
‘This is the the safest place in France, probably in Europe.’ 
‘If the data really does indicate submarines, what will it mean?’ 
‘It will probably mean the Russians or someone like them are up to something. Something nasty, at a guess.’ 
Suzette tapped in more figures and waited. The disk whirred and the printer started. 
‘According to Princess,’ she finally declared with certainty, ‘there are two unusual contacts. One at eight degrees east, forty-two north; the other at six degrees east, forty-three north. Both are heading for the coast of Southern France. Incidentally, there are also movements in the Baltic and the North Atlantic.’ 
Louis was mystified. ‘You can tell all that?’ 
‘I’m only reading the data, monsieur. The analysis is done for me by the computer.’ She turned. ‘Anything, Jim?’ 
‘Not in the air. Shall I try the ground?’ 
‘Yes, please. I haven’t had chance yet. You start in Latvia, I’ll work up from the Med.’ 
‘I’m on to it.’ 
‘Is this serious?’ asked a concerned Gillian. 
‘We don’t know,’ replied Philippe seriously. ‘All we know is that this is the first time Princess has screamed at us. I hope she’s just crying “wolf”.’ 
‘How will you know?’ 
‘We won’t for certain,’ said Louis. ‘The Première will need confirmation before he does anything. Being new, no one will believe Princess alone.’ 
‘Princess is not wrong, Louis,’ said Suzette, tearing off another print-out. ‘There’s something more in EX now. How’s the weather in CX, Jim?’ 
‘Mostly rain by the looks of it.’ 
She made notes. ‘Princess has identified at least seven submarines.’ 
Philippe straightened and glanced at Louis who reached for the red phone. ‘Monsieur Le Première, immédiatement.’ 
He waited for ten seconds. ‘C’est le satellite. Il indiques beaucoup des mouvements. Aussi, des sous-marins.’ 
He listened. ‘Oui. Plus de sept sous-marins.’ 
‘Oui... Mais je-ne-sais-pas... Naturellement... Merci. Au revoir.’ 
He slowly replaced the phone. After about half a minute he spoke into an intercom on the wall. ‘Close the outer shields and secure all the hatches.’ He looked at Suzette. ‘Princess is not wrong, Mademoiselle Blackman. Other sightings have now been made. We need to monitor every movement, what can I do to help you?’ 
Suzette sat down again and let the implications sink in. ‘Can Gill be assigned to refreshments? We’ll need plenty.’ 
He nodded. 
‘And, Gill, keep and eye on paper for the printers. I’m going to keep dumping to hard copy for comparison so we mustn’t run out now. Jim, can you watch the air? Concentrate on AX and CX for now. There’ve been no air movements as yet, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be any. I want to know of any movement however small. Philippe, if you want to do something useful for a change, can you keep an eye on EX? If the state of war escalates, those subs may launch missiles. That just leaves me with nearly three thousand kilometres of land to watch.’ 
‘Are we imagining all this?’ asked Gillian. 
‘I would like to think so, Mademoiselle Green,’ said Louis. ‘However, my instincts tell me this is the real thing.’ 
‘What will happen?’ 
‘I have no idea. It will be up to the politicians. All we can do is wait.’ 
‘And if there is war?’ 
He shrugged. ‘We may be the only survivors.’ 
‘We?’ 
‘The eight of us here. We five, my secretary and the two security guards.’ 
‘Reminds me of Noah’s ark,’ said Jim. 
‘But with no animals,’ replied Gillian gravely. 
‘Movement in EX,’ stated Philippe. 
‘Rapid heat source escalation in AX,’ said Jim. ‘Multiple points.’ 
‘Oh, No!’ said Philippe as he staggered back. 
‘What is it?’ 
‘Five of the submarines have launched. This is for real.’ 
Louis reached for the intercom. ‘All staff to the lower level, quickly. I repeat, all staff to the lower level. This is not an exercise.’ 
‘Suzette!’ Jim interrupted. ‘Single emission from CX.’ 
She sat up, puzzled. ‘Only one?’ 
‘It’s in a higher trajectory than the others and climbing rapidly.’ 
She stood up and looked at Jim with a certainty. ‘Direction?’ 
Jim knew the significance of the question. ‘South-south-east,’ he replied sadly. 
‘Suzette, what is it?’ asked Philippe as she stood, white faced, looking at the screen like a zombie. Everyone was watching her. 
‘They’re after Princess,’ she said quietly. 
There was a shocked silence. The door opened and two security guards entered followed by a woman of about thirty who glanced briefly at Louis. Suzette checked the figures and confirmed that Jim had been correct. Princess was in danger and there was not a thing they could do about it.
~~~~~
THURSDAY 29th JULY - 1930 hrs.
For an hour the screens reeled off figures while the printers clicked a continuous staccato. There were movements everywhere but they saw only one screen. 
‘Ten seconds,’ said Jim finally. 
They watched in silence as Suzette stood there and stared at the screen. 
Suddenly the printers stopped. In the deathly silence which followed they all looked at the blank screens. Suzette sat down and began to cry like someone bereaved. Princess was dead!
~~~~~






REQUIEM MASS


THURSDAY 29th JULY - 1600 hrs.
No one spoke for a long time. It was as if the whole thing was all part of some terrible nightmare. Perhaps it had not really happened and Princess was still in orbit, issuing streams of information which could be decoded by the main computer. Perhaps Suzette was not here at all, she was at home near Cambridge, watching TV in her little flat in Trumpington. Perhaps not. 
Her colleagues in that underground computer room seemed no happier. Gillian sat, her head in her hands, with Philippe’s arm around her shoulders while Jim sat as if made of stone and the two security men stood in the corner discussing the situation and possible courses of action. The last person in the room was the secretary who sat silently weeping over the probable loss of her family. Following the sudden demise of Princess, Louis had tried to raise Paris on the phone but it had remained stubbornly dead, suggesting the worst. Princess had indicated war but nothing had been seen or felt. No shock waves, no noise, no nothing. It was as if it was all some sort of grand hoax. Only the blank computer screens, the dead phone line and the needle of the radiation warning gauge told them clearly that something was very wrong indeed. 
Louis cleared his throat. ‘Messieurs et mesdames. In the absence of any information to the contrary, I feel that we must assume that some kind of nuclear exchange has taken place on the surface. At this moment in time, we have no way of telling the extent of the damage caused, whether it is world-wide or merely local. We also do not know whether the exchange has finished or is still in progress.’ 
‘Louis,’ enquired Philippe. ‘Is there likely to have been a nearby strike?’ 
‘Unlikely. None of us here are military personnel and, therefore, untrained in the specifics of nuclear war. However, my own feeling is that if a device had been detonated closer than Paris, we would have felt some sort of shock wave.’ 
‘Not necessarily,’ spoke up Jim. ‘During our induction training at S.I.E.D., we were informed of the likely scenario during a nuclear war. Hydrogen bombs can have a greater destructive effect if detonated whilst in the air. The initial shock waves are reduced, destruction of buildings minimised, and fallout considerably less but casualties are often greater over a very much wider area.’ 
‘You could be right, monsieur. The gauge warning us of radioactivity is very active, so some local nuclear activity is certainly suggested.’ 
‘Will everyone be dead?’ asked the tear-streaked secretary. 
‘I fear, Corrine, that neither you nor I will see our families again. We can only console ourselves with the fact that their deaths will have been quick ones.’ 
‘How can we find out how extensive the damage is?’ asked Philippe. ‘Can we not use any of this equipment, Suzette?’ 
‘I would have thought so. Down here, we must have several millions of pounds worth of hardware. What software we don’t have, Jim and I could write. But what we don’t know yet is whether the scanning dish has been damaged or any communication satellites are left in orbit.’ 
‘How soon will we know about the dish?’ 
‘As soon as someone can get outside and check it.’ 
‘That will not be for some time,’ said Louis. ‘The hatches are designed to stay sealed until the level of strontium-90 outside decreases to within acceptable limits.’ 
‘What’s the situation regarding air and food?’ asked Suzette. 
‘Air is easy. The ventilation system is self circulating and auto-cleansing. Food could be a little more difficult.’ 
‘Why?’ 
‘The normal personnel level here is six and there are eight of us so food and water inevitably will be somewhat limited. The survival rations are meagre enough for six.’ 
‘What about sleeping and other arrangements?’ 
‘One pair of bunks in each of three rooms. Toilet to be shared.’ 
‘How about clothes? Jim, Gill and I only have what we stand up in.’ 
‘There are plenty of overalls in various sizes and I recommend we get into them as soon as possible. Not only are they more comfortable, they are equipped with photoresponsive radiation sensors so we will be safer in them.’ 
‘I suppose you’re right.’ 
‘Perhaps the ladies would like to change first. Corrine, please would you take Mademoiselle Blackman and her friend and show them where to change.’ 
Suzette gripped Gillian’s hand firmly as they followed the secretary into the sleeping area. They stripped off the clothes they had arrived in and donned pale blue overalls and trainers. Suzette was fairly tall and she found that the men’s small size fitted her perfectly. Gillian, however, was on the short side and so looked somewhat comical with the sleeves and legs rolled up. Corrine, still looking naturally unhappy, changed and handed them baseball style caps. Suzette tucked her long, dark hair into hers, but her friend’s fair hair hung loose. 
‘I’m sorry about your family, Corrine,’ said Suzette compassionately as they put their clothes into black plastic bags and stored them under the lower bunks. 
‘Thank you. Do you have family?’ 
‘Not really. I do have a big brother somewhere, but I haven’t seen him in almost a year. I don’t even know where he is or if he is still alive after all this.’ 
‘And Mademoiselle Green?’ 
‘Dad’s dead and mum remarried and moved to London,’ Gillian clarified. ‘I’ve no brothers or sisters. What family do you have?’ 
‘My husband works... worked in Amiens in an office. Also two little girls at school.’ 
‘We’re really very sorry, Corrine. What about the others?’ 
‘Louis is having a wife and a son at university. The oldest of the security men, Henri, is divorced and the younger one, Pierre, is not married.’ 
‘What about Philippe? Is he married?’ 
‘I don’t know. He is from the Embassy and has only been here a few times. I am thinking he once is married.’ 
‘I see,’ said Suzette non-committally. 
They re-entered the main control room whereupon Jim and Philippe went to change. 
‘Louis?’ Suzette asked frowningly. 
‘Oui, mademoiselle.’ 
‘Is the receiving dish fixed or will it track far enough for us to try to locate other satellites?’ 
‘It is definitely fixed. It was only built to line up with Princess. There is some adjustment, I think, but very little. A matter of millimetres.’ 
‘Thank you, monsieur.’ 
‘What do you do?’ Louis asked Gillian. ‘For a living, I mean.’ 
‘I was at Cambridge with Suzette where I trained to be a vet but I actually help to train racehorses at Newmarket. At least I did before all this. I wonder what is left.’ 
‘Right now we have no way of telling. We must be very patient and find out in due course. I think we must prepare ourselves for being the only survivors in this area.’ 
‘Could there be others?’ 
‘Of course. There are many fallout shelters earth-wide, assuming the destruction is that widespread. The only problem is, there was very little warning. If the destruction escalated to everywhere, there could be pockets of people all over the place, each wondering the same things we are now.’ 
‘If there are other people, we must find a way of communicating with them.’ 
‘The other possibility is that one side or the other won. Maybe the damage is limited to Europe. The United States could be untouched, so could Asia and many other areas.’ 
‘That’s why we need to get communicating. As soon as is practical, someone must go outside and check the dish. If it is undamaged, we must find a way to motorise the elliptic track so we can scan for communication satellites. We may not understand what is said, but at least it will give us some idea as to the size of the problem we are faced with.’ 
‘Suzette, you are an optimist.’ 
‘Louis. If all us survivors give up now, it really is the end of the world.’ 


~~~~~
SATURDAY 31st JULY - 1000 hrs.
Nothing changed in two days. Although the beds were there, no-one slept nor hardly ate any of the food. The radiation meter still suggested high radioactivity. 
‘Louis,’ asked Suzette. ‘Is there any way of seeing outside?’ 
‘Not at the moment. When the radiation level drops, we can risk opening the door to the next level above us. There are TV monitors there attached to outside cameras, if they’re still intact.’ 
‘Why can’t we get to that level now?’ 
‘Because of a possible radiation leak. If any of us ventured there and the radiation had penetrated within that level, we would not be able to allow that person back to this level for fear of contaminating the rest of the group.’ 
‘Unfortunately,’ added Henri. ‘The fallout indicator only shows the radiation level outside and, at the moment, it is at several times the surviveable level. The room above is only protected by the reinforced concrete shell. If that has been damaged at all, upstairs will be lethal.’ 
‘But surely it would have needed a pretty close impact to crack the outer shell and we would have felt it.’ 
‘In theory, you are right, it should be still intact. However, I for one am not prepared to take the chance of getting up there to find the room full of radiation.’ 
‘I am,’ said Suzette and they all stared at her. 
‘She’s right, Louis,’ said Philippe. ‘We have to know what the conditions are like out there. However, Suzette, you cannot go. You are far too valuable to lose. I must go.’ 
Suzette was more than a little baffled although flattered by his comments. 
‘I’ll come with you,’ offered Pierre. ‘I know how the Closed Circuit TV system works.’ 
‘It is madness,’ said Corrine. ‘You’ll both die, and for what?’ 
‘To know the truth. We’ll take walkie-talkies with us. If we cannot return, at least the rest of you will know what the situation is.’ 
‘Very well,’ said Louis. ‘I cannot stop you.’ He pondered for a moment. ‘While you are there, could you start the generator? We have another two days of battery power left but the sooner we start the generator the better. Check the fuel first.’ 
‘Will it not be full?’ 
‘It should be connected directly to a thousand litre tank of diesel. That is roughly enough for two to three weeks depending on how much equipment we use. The thing to remember is; once the generator is started, it must not be allowed to stop.’ 
‘Why not?’ 
‘The exhaust pipe is sealed off at ground level to stop the entry of any radio-active fallout but as soon as you start the engine, the seals are broken. Only the internal pressure keeps any polluted particles from entering.’ 
‘Very well. I will check the fuel first.’ 
‘And take the geiger-counter with you to check for levels.’ 
‘D’accord. Anything else?’ 
‘Torches, tools in case of distorted panels.’ 
‘Right. Where are these suits?’ 


~~~~~
SATURDAY 31st JULY - 1030 hrs.
Dressed in sealed fallout suits, they looked most odd as Pierre carried the tools and Philippe took the torch and walkie-talkie. The hatch opened with a hiss of internal pressure and they looked back at the others for possibly the last time before the door closed and cut off their forms. It was silent in the computer room for several minutes. 
‘Air pressure equalised,’ came Philippe’s voice from the intercom. ‘Opening the outer hatch now.’ 
Then there was silence.
~~~~~
SATURDAY 31st JULY - 1040 hrs.
The room was in complete darkness as Philippe switched on the torch and surveyed the scene. The ceiling and walls appeared to be intact and, to their relief, the meter stayed blissfully quiet. 
‘Well,’ he sighed. ‘At least radiation had not infiltrated this far. Where is the light switch?’ 
Pierre, without a word, went to the far door and threw the main switch and an infra-red glow filled the room. 
Philippe lifted the intercom. ‘Philippe to Control room, over.’ 
He tried several times but only static emitted by way of reply. 
‘Let’s have a look outside,’ said Pierre as he activated the closed-circuit TV system. The monitors warmed up but they showed nothing but four brilliant white screens. Philippe opened the door to the generator room, checked the fuel level and cranked the handle. The generator engine burst into life immediately.
~~~~~
SATURDAY 31st JULY - 1050 hrs.
Gillian looked up and gasped. The lights had become suddenly brighter. 
‘It’s the generator,’ said a grinning Henri. ‘They must be all right.’ 
Even Corrine paused in her tears. Though no longer youthful, she was still very attractive but her tear-stained face aged her. Louis put his arm around her shoulder and it was, at that moment, clear to the others that she had been more than a secretary to Louis. 
Jim picked up the discarded intercom and repeatedly spoke into it but without reply. ‘I must go and see what has happened.’ 
‘No,’ said Suzette. ‘Please. I don’t want to lose you now. Philippe will find a way to contact us if the intercom has given up. The fact that he has started the generator proves that they are at least still alive.’ 
‘But why can’t they communicate?’ asked Corrine. 
‘Atmospherics, maybe,’ replied Louis. ‘Don’t forget that the walls are pre-stressed, reinforced concrete and that each of the doors is like the entrance to a bank vault.’ 
She sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right.’ 


~~~~~
SATURDAY 31st JULY - 1100 hrs.
Pierre adjusted the brightness control on the monitor but to no avail. The screen was just plain white. 
‘What’s the problem?’ asked Philippe. 
Pierre scratched his head. ‘I wish I knew. I’ve never seen this fault before. The monitors are okay. Even the cameras seem to be working correctly. Look, the red light is on, indicating power up.’ 
‘Will the cameras move at all?’ 
Pierre pushed over on of a number of small joy-sticks. ‘Just a little. They should each go through almost a full circle but this one is hardly moving. It is as if it is being held by something.’ He pushed the joy-stick back. ‘Wait a minute, it’s moved a bit more this time. That’s odd. It will move almost ten degrees now. Whatever is holding it is gradually freeing off. Good grief!’ 
‘What is it?’ 
Pierre sat down. ‘I think it’s snow.’ 
‘Snow? No wonder it’s active around the building.’ 
‘Let me try the other cameras.’ He toggled the joy-sticks for several minutes before the situation was confirmed. As far as they could tell, Northern France was covered with a thick blanket of radio-active snow.
~~~~~
SATURDAY 31st JULY - 1130 hrs.
Suzette sat staring at the blank screens and the last print-outs based on the information from Princess. She suddenly leant forward with a frown on her face. ‘That’s odd. Why didn’t I notice that before?’ 
‘What is it?’ asked Jim. 
‘The missile which hit Princess. It came from CX zone.’ 
‘That’s right. I plotted its trajectory myself.’ 
‘But CX is inside France.’ She consulted the map. ‘It was launched from somewhere in the area just east of the Rhône valley but west of the Alps. As near as I can tell, from close to Aix-en-Provence.’ 
‘You mean...?’ 
‘I mean it looks like the French destroyed their own satellite.’ 
‘But why would they want to do that? Surely they were relying on it for information.’ 
‘Maybe someone else was, too,’ interjected Louis. ‘Perhaps Princess was more famous than we think.’ 
‘It’s too complicated for my simple mind to fathom out. Computers I understand. People I don’t.’ For the first time, they almost laughed. 
‘Louis,’ said Henri. ‘May I try an experiment?’ He picked up the intercom unit. ‘We cannot communicate with the others upstairs due to the thickness of the walls and doors, right?’ 
‘Ye...e...s.’ 
‘What if I go into the chamber with the radio? There will only be one door between us then.’ 
‘But they may not have closed the outer door. Even if they did, it could be full of radiation. I can’t let you open it and risk killing us all.’ 
‘You are right. It was foolish of me.’ 
‘No, wait,’ said Suzette. ‘Suppose the outer door is still open. What if we try transmitting right up against the door?’ 
‘It’s worth a try.’ Henri carried the intercom over and laid it flat against one of the recessed panels. ‘Philippe, can you hear me?’ 
There was silence for a second, then a very distorted voice. 
‘What did he say?’ 
Henri frowned. ‘It sounded like “snow”, so that can’t be right.
~~~~~
SATURDAY 31st JULY - 1200 hrs.
Satisfied that the middle level was still intact, Philippe and Pierre decided that it was safe to return to the others so, after checking the generator, they opened the big steel door and went down the steps to the control room.
~~~~~
SATURDAY 31st JULY - 2200 hrs.
Night fell upon Europe and, with it, the temperature dropped dramatically. In the relatively cramped area of the control room, it was some time before the cold made itself felt due to the body warmth of eight people in a confined space. After very little sleep in two days, Suzette and Gillian had gone to bed and the others were discussing what to do next. 
‘What shall we do by way of a permanent arrangement for sleeping?’ asked Louis. ‘It is right and proper that Suzette and Mademoiselle Gillian have a room to themselves, but what about the rest of us?’ 
‘Someone must stay on watch,’ said Philippe. ‘If only to ensure the radiation level get’s no worse. I recommend that Jim, Henri, Pierre and I split into two shifts during the nights. It will make the eight people into six beds arrangement easier, too.’ 
‘What about Corrine and I?’ 
‘With respect, Louis, you are no longer young. I suggest that you now catch up on some sleep. You, too, Corrine.’ 
‘I admit,’ said the secretary, ‘I am very tired.’ 
‘Very well,’ agreed Louis. ‘If you need me, please do not hesitate to wake me.’ 
Corrine and Louis left to go to bed and the others could not help noticing that they went into the same bunkroom. 
‘Okay,’ said Philippe. ‘Who goes first and how do we split the shifts?’ 
‘I am all right with Pierre,’ offered Henri. ‘If you can share a shift with Jim.’ 
‘All right with you Jim?’ asked Philippe. 
‘Certainly. Shall we go first?’ 
‘I’m easy,’ said Henri. ‘Whatever you say.’ 
‘Right then. You two get a few hours sleep. Jim and I will wake you about three in the morning.’ 
‘Come on, Pierre,’ said the grinning Henri. ‘Let’s go and warm the beds up for them.’ 
They left, laughing, and Jim and Philippe decided to sit upstairs with the monitors in case a miracle occurred. 
‘Do you think we have a chance of survival, Phil?’ Jim finally asked as they sat, well wrapped up in heavy anoraks. 
‘How honest do you want me to be?’ 
‘Totally, of course.’ 
‘None!’ 
‘None at all?’ 
‘I don’t know how long it will take for the snow to melt. When it does, if it does, we will know for certain. It’s almost certain that everything growing in the form of plant life round here is now dead. If it isn’t, it soon will be with these low night-time temperatures.’ 
‘Perhaps all the earth is not affected.’ 
‘That is possible, of course. Even if this nuclear winter is only limited to France, how far could you walk without food, with night temperatures of around minus sixty?’ 
Jim shivered. ‘Not very far.’ 
‘Nor I. It looks like we’re stuck here for a while.’ 
‘Until the fuel runs out.’ 
‘Yes. Until the fuel runs out.’ They both sat in silence for a long time. Philippe eventually spoke again. ‘Jim, what do you think is producing that pink glow on camera two?’ 
‘I don’t know. Try moving it.’ 
Philippe toggled the small joystick and the light became brighter. They then traversed the other three cameras until they pointed north. The glow could be seen through all of them. 
‘Some kind of Aurora Borealis, I guess.’ 
‘Aurora what?’ 
‘Northern lights. You don’t usually see them this far south so I guess the earth’s magnetic field has been affected in some way. I don’t think the so-called experts on nuclear warfare predicted that.’ 
‘I don’t honestly think they really had any idea what would happen outside a few probabilities.’ 
‘You’re right. This is not theory any more.’ Jim paused. ‘Will the cameras track any higher so we can see the sky better?’ 
‘No. They only lift to the horizontal. Pierre told me they were only designed to keep an eye on the ground around the perimeter fence. They won’t even swing round far enough to see the building apart from the garage roof.’ 
‘I see.’ Silence again. 
‘Jim. May I ask you a personal question?’ 
‘Of course. As long as it’s not religion or politics.’ They laughed easily. 
‘Are you going steady with Suzette?’ 
‘I’d like to be but, alas, no. Events have thrown us together recently. In fact, I asked her to move in with me just... good grief, was it only a few days ago?’ 
‘And?’ 
‘And she said “no”.’ 
‘May I ask, do you love her?’ 
‘I would certainly love to get her into bed.’ 
‘That’s not always the same thing, Jim. Would you have married her?’ 
‘I don’t know. Why do you ask?’ 
‘Oh, nothing,’ he shrugged. ‘Just wondered.’ 
‘Interested?’ 
‘Could be. Although after the way I have treated her of late, I don’t suppose she will even look at me again.’ 
‘What about Gill?’ 
‘Suzette was right in London. I’m afraid that my relationship with Mademoiselle Gill was just a cover to keep a watch on Suzette. Gill is really not my type at all.’ 
‘Does she know this?’ 
‘I expect so. Suzette knows about me and Gill so I guess Gill does, too, by now. No-one knows about how I feel concerning Suzette.’ 
‘Philippe, never underestimate Suzette’s perception. I have, several times. She is what our American friends would call “one clever cookie.”’ 
‘She seems to have turned completely in on herself since Princess was destroyed.’ 
‘Perhaps. Suzette is certainly worried about something.’ 
‘It’s hardly surprising, bearing in mind the events of the last few days.’ 
‘I don’t think it’s as simple that. I think she believes that all is not as it seems. You see, to Suzette, Princess is not just a lump of equipment in the sky, she is a person.’ 
‘I suppose that’s why she finds it so difficult to believe that the satellite has gone.’ 
‘Well, she’s definitely suspicious about something. I’ve known her for a year now and have learned to recognise when she is not convinced.’ 
‘Do you agree with her?’ 
Jim looked straight at Philippe. ‘I have to admit that I have never found her to be wrong about such things.’ 
‘Coming back to my feelings for her. Does it tread on your toes?’ 
‘It doesn’t really matter much now, does it? Perhaps we should be with them in bed now, while there is time left, instead of sitting here discussing it like gentlemen.’ 
‘Not a bad idea. I don’t suppose Gill would object.’ 
‘She’s got a gorgeous little body, hasn’t she? Built like an athlete. It must be all that horse riding.’ 
‘Yes,’ laughed Philippe. ‘I suppose it is. I’m afraid I never got far enough with her to find out.’ 
‘You mean you didn’t...?’ 
‘Of course not. Not with anyone, in fact. Not since my wife died.’ 
‘You were once married?’ 
‘Yes. Very early in life. It was expected of a young embassy official. We were sent to Beruit. I was twenty-one and Liselle was just nineteen.’ 
‘Were you not happy?’ 
‘Blissfully so. But we’d only been married two weeks when her car was blown up by Arab terrorists.’ 
‘I’m sorry.’ 
‘Well, it’s over now. But it’s what happened all those years ago that got me into, shall we say, the less formal part of Embassy work. For the last four years, I’ve kept myself very much to myself.’ 
Jim smiled. ‘You and Suzette will make a great pair.’ 


~~~~~
SUNDAY 1st AUGUST - 0800 hrs.
Suzette stirred as the door opened and Corrine walked in with a tray of cups. ‘Coffee for the sleepy-heads.’ 
‘Bonjour, Corrine. What’s happening?’ 
‘I don’t know. Philippe has gone to check on Henri and Pierre who took over from them during the night.’ She bent down to the lower bunk where Gill lay in her undies, bedclothes kicked to the floor. ‘Wakey, wakey, Gill.’ 
Gillian stirred, looked around her and then smiled at Corrine and thanked her for the coffee. 
The door burst open. It was Philippe. ‘Gill, come quickly. It’s Henri and Pierre.’ 
Gillian fell out of bed and started to pull on her overalls. ‘What’s the matter with them?’ 
‘They’re unconscious.’ 
‘Radiation?’ 
‘I don’t see how. According to the geiger-counter, the room is clean.’ 
Together, they ran up the short flight of stairs and Gillian turned Pierre over. His face was blue and his pulse weak. He had obviously been vomiting and his tongue was swollen. There was little Gillian could do for them. Her training as a vet gave her some understanding of natural functions but none of the horses at Newmarket had ever been exposed to radioactivity. Between them, they managed to drag Henri and Pierre into their bunks and did what they could for them while the others looked for the cause. 
‘It definitely looks like radiation sickness,’ Louis informed Philippe in the room where the men had been found. ‘But where did the leak come from?’ 
‘I don’t know. Let’s look around. If you’ll start at the door, I’ll try the ceiling area.’ 
They searched until Philippe spotted a smudge of mastic on the ceiling in the generator room and a small pool of water on the floor. The meter clicked feebly. ‘Louis. In here.’ 
They looked down at the wet patch together. ‘Where did it come from?’ 
‘Some of the snow must be melting from the heat of the generator exhaust. It must have brought the radiation in with it. They appear to have plugged the leak before they passed out.’ 
‘Have they stopped it?’ 
‘It looks like it. As least for the time being. though I’m not sure how long it will hold.’ 
‘It’s got to last until the fallout level drops outside.’ 
‘That would be nice, but we have no guarantees. What was the strontium-90 level this morning?’ 
‘It’s dropped a bit,’ replied Louis. ‘But it still has a long way to go before it will be safe to go outside.’ 
‘Where is the receptor for the gauge located?’ 
‘On the roof along with the wind-speed indicator and thermal sensors.’ 
‘Above the snow level, do you think?’ 
‘Covered by the snow, I would think. To what depth, I can’t tell. What do you have in mind?’ 
‘If the sensors are covered by the snow we may have a false reading.’ 
‘That’s possible, I suppose. But what can we do about it?’ 
Philippe shrugged. ‘Clear the snow off the roof?’ 
‘How?’ 
‘I must go up and do it. By hand if necessary.’ 
‘But that could mean subjecting yourself to intense radiation. I can’t let you do it.’ 
‘Louis. We can’t just sit here doing nothing. I will wear a fallout suit and go up to ground level. If that is clean, I will be able to use the showers to clean up after going outside. Then the rest of you will not be subjected to the radiation.’ 
‘You’re taking a terrible chance, Philippe.’ 
‘Someone has to do it.’ 
‘I will come with you. You cannot go alone. If you slip or fall...’ 
‘Louis. Thank you, but no.’ 
‘Then let us discuss it together. We are all affected.’ 
He sighed. ‘Very well. If you insist.’ 
When they returned to the control room, Suzette, Gill and Jim awaited them. Corrine was still caring for the sick security guards while Philippe outlined his proposition to them. 
‘Louis is right, Philippe,’ said Suzette. ‘You cannot go alone. I must come with you.’ 
‘You? But you are far too valuable to lose.’ 
‘We are all valuable to each other. But without some means of communicating with the world, I am the least useful member the team. I need to get a look at the dish to see if it is intact and whether it can be motorised to scan the ecliptic. Without the dish in operation, I might as well make the tea.’ 
They argued for some time but finally agreed. Philippe would take Suzette. At that moment, Corrine returned and shook her head sadly. Suzette and Gillian rushed off to check but the guards were beyond saving. 
Gillian frowned as she slowly replaced the sheet over Henri’s face. ‘I didn’t think they were that bad.’ 
‘But the radiation sickness...?’ 
‘I suppose you’re right,’ she replied, still clearly unhappy. ‘I just wish I knew more about it, I might have helped them.’ 
Suzette looked thoughtful for a moment, then took a brief look around, particularly at their pillows and eventually they returned to the control room. 
‘Are they...?’ Louis asked. 
Gillian nodded. 
‘Suzette, are you still sure you want to go outside after seeing them die like that?’ 
Suzette glanced quickly at Philippe. ‘More than ever now.’ 
Dressed in the fallout suits, Philippe and Suzette made their way up to ground level where the radiation proved negligible. The windows were covered with snow but the sun-shield glass had also kept out most of the radiation. It was pointless trying to use the main door, it was completely buried. Instead, they tried the door to the garage where Suzette’s Cosworth was parked beside the Daihatsu Four-Track, safe and sound. 
‘How do we get outside without being buried in radioactive snow?’ asked Suzette. 
‘According to the architect’s plan of the building, there is a roof access in the corner of the garage, we’ll try that.’ 
‘Won’t it be covered in snow, too?’ 
‘I expect so.’ 
She stopped. ‘Phil, what’s that noise?’ 
‘Sounds like the wind.’ 
She walked to the big, up-and-over garage doors that had automatically sealed around the edges and rubbed at the small access window. ‘Philippe, look.’ 
‘What is it?’ 
‘There’s no snow this side. The wind has swirled around and left a relatively bare area. If the wind has done that, perhaps the roof is clear after all.’ 
‘Perhaps.’ 
‘I’m going to try and climb up,’ she said. 
‘No, let me.’ 
‘I’ll go, I’m lighter. If you fall, I’ll never be able to lift you.’ 
She climbed the short, pull-down ladder and undid the heavy clamps. After looking at Philippe for a long time, she pushed upwards with all her strength. 
Philippe watched her disappear and then pulled the automatic from the pocket of his radiation suit before climbing the steps to the garage roof. His head cleared the top of the hatch and he looked around him. The blanket of snow had been kept off the roof by the strong winds which all but blew him from his feet as he attempted to stand up. He looked around until he spotted Suzette crouched down beside the satellite dish on the roof of the main building, examining the tracking mechanism. He raised the gun. This was to be the hardest part of his job.
~~~~~
SUNDAY 1st AUGUST - 1100 hrs.
Gillian Green sat in the office keeping watch on the closed circuit TV monitors and she toggled with the joystick until the camera moved enough for it to scan the garage area. 
‘What’s happening?’ asked Jim, looking over her shoulder. 
‘Suzette is just on the right there, presumably looking at the dish. The camera won’t traverse far enough to see her completely. Philippe has just climbed out of the trap door.’ 
‘It sure looks cold out there.’ 
Gillian tensed. ‘Jim. What’s Philippe got in his hand?’ 
He bent closer. ‘It looks suspiciously like a gun to me.’ 
‘Surely he’s not going to shoot Suzette.’ 
Jim laughed. ‘No, he wouldn’t do that.’ 
‘You sound very sure.’ 
‘He wouldn’t hurt her. He’s madly in love with her.’ 
‘How do you know?’ 
‘He told me so yesterday.’ 
‘And you don’t care?’ 
‘No. It’s you that I love.’ 
‘Me?’ she asked incredulously. 
‘Why not?’ 
‘I...I...just never thought... that’s all. But that doesn’t explain what he’s doing up there.’ 
‘Suzette’s seen him.’ 
‘She’s standing up.’ 


~~~~~
SUNDAY 1st AUGUST - 1130 hrs.
Suzette slowly stood erect, holding onto the scanning dish for support. At first, she had been puzzled because Louis had lied to her. Now she looked down the barrel of the automatic and things began to fall into place. 
‘Philippe,’ she shouted above the howling of the wind. ‘Why are you doing this?’ 
‘I’m sorry, Suzette. I have no choice.’ 
‘Yes, you have. You can forget what you were told before all this started. We’ve all been tricked, can’t you see that?’ 
‘Tricked? How?’ 
‘We’re not enemies, you and I. We’re on the same side now. Don’t play into the hands of those who began all this horror. Kill me if you must, but don’t jeopardise the future for everyone else. They’re all you have left that’s sane.’ 
‘What are you talking about? There has been a nuclear war. That’s not our fault.’ 
‘Don’t be so naive, Philippe. The Russians didn’t start this. Nor the Americans. The British thought the French were up to no good and the French thought likewise. The Russians suspected both and took precautions. Then they were all conned into launching against each other. All there are left in Europe are just us four and the ones who hope to benefit from the war.’ 
‘Four? But there are six of us.’ 
‘Philippe,’ she pleaded. ‘Listen to me. Louis is one of them.’ Her hand went to her face-mask as the situation sunk in. ‘You are, too, aren’t you? You’re one of them.’ 
‘One of what? Or who? I don’t understand you.’ 
‘You once said you were sent to protect me, didn’t you?’ 
He nodded. 
‘But you were also instructed to kill me if I found out about the true capabilities of Princess, weren’t you?’ 
He stood silent but his arm dropped. 
‘Admit it.’ 
He nodded slowly. 
‘And I found out, didn’t I?’ 
He nodded again. 
‘And now I know that Princess is not really dead.’ 
He looked up suddenly. ‘Not dead? What do you mean?’ 
She was puzzled. Surely he must know. He’s one of them. 
He grasped her shoulders and shook her. ‘Suzette. What do you mean, “Princess is not dead”?’ 
‘What I said. We were meant to believe that Princess had been destroyed by a Russian missile, but she wasn’t, was she? The missile was French and it was launched simply to put us off the track, to convince everyone that she could no longer scan.’ 
‘What are you talking about? Princess is dead. Don’t deceive yourself. We all saw it.’ 
She shook her head. ‘We saw what we were meant to see. We saw a missile launched. We saw its trajectory towards Princess. We saw the screens go dead. But Princess is alive. She’s just... resting.’ 
‘Suzette...’ 
‘Who told you to kill me?’ 
He didn’t answer. 
‘It was Louis, wasn’t it?’ 
‘He was given his orders.’ 
‘When?’ 
‘Before... before Princess died.’ 
‘But things have changed. Are you one of them?’ 
‘No,’ he assured her. ‘And I’m still not convinced there are any “them”.’ 
‘Then how do you explain Louis’ behaviour? His deceit? He assured me that the dish couldn’t track, but it can. Look at it. It is completely controllable from below and Louis knows it. He has tried all ways to prevent me from getting up here and finding out. How else can you explain the fact that he can now no longer afford for me to return inside and tell the others?’ 
‘I can’t,’ he admitted quietly. ‘You said there were two of them. Who is the other?’ 
‘Corrine. His so-called secretary.’ 
‘Corrine? Are you mad? That quiet, innocent little woman?’ 
‘That quiet, innocent little woman murdered Henri and Pierre.’ 
He stepped back and looked aghast. ‘I don’t believe you.’ 
‘Don’t you? Ask Gill. I don’t know too much about radiation sickness but I do know that people don’t die within twenty-four hours from only a secondary dose, certainly not both at the same time regardless of their considerable difference in age, and definitely not after they have already started to recover.’ 
‘I find this difficult to accept. Why would she do it?’ 
‘Are you sure you’re not one of them?’ 
‘Yes.’ 
‘Convince me.’ 
‘How?’ 
She held out her hand. ‘Give me the gun.’ 
His fingers instinctively gripped the automatic tighter in his hand. He had already disobeyed orders by not eliminating her now that she knew too much. If he returned with her still alive... He listened to her as she continued talking and reasoning for a long time then raised his head and looked at her big, brown eyes visible through the face-mask of her fallout suit. ‘I can’t do that.’ 
‘Think about it then trust me. I’m not going back down until you promise to help me. If you can’t do that, then you had better shoot me - here and now.’ 


~~~~~
SUNDAY 1st AUGUST - 1200 hrs.
Jim and Gillian watched on the screen as they talked until, finally, Suzette backed away from Philippe until she was out of their range of their vision. Philippe’s arm came up and he fired three times. 
‘He’s killed Suzette,’ said Gillian, still not fully believing the evidence of her own eyes. ‘He’s shot my friend.’ 


~~~~~






FUGUE


SUNDAY 1st AUGUST - 1200 hrs.
Philippe stood in the shower until the radiation level of his suit had dropped and all the fallout particles were washed away before removing it carefully and hanging it on the hook near the others. He straightened his overalls and re-entered the office area where Jim and Gillian waited by the closed-circuit screens. He was visibly shocked by the hatred on Gillian’s face as he looked at the screen and the implications sank in. 
Before he could speak, Louis came up from the control room with Corrine. ‘Have you taken care of our little matter?’ 
Philippe nodded seriously. The English pair whirled round but were stopped from protesting by the sight of the snub-nosed revolver in Louis’ hand. 
‘Do you realise what you have done?’ asked Gillian. 
‘Of course,’ replied Corrine with a leer. ‘Monsieur le Directeur has promised us the whole of Northern France for our part in the... conspiracy.’ 
‘And you’d kill us all to keep it?’ 
‘We’d kill everyone to keep it. Don’t you see that?’ 
‘I do now,’ said Gillian vehemently. ‘You’re evil. Killing millions so you can play at being king and queen.’ 
‘Naturellement. Wouldn’t you?’ 
‘I most certainly would not,’ replied Gillian, barely controlling herself. 
‘Is it true what Suzette said?’ asked Philippe. ‘Did you really plan all this destruction?’ 
‘Yes, my friend. It is true. We in the Départment of Sécurité Nationale assisted the only reasonable power for the world by supplying false information. The others did the rest between them.’ 
‘But how can you be sure you have been successful?’ 
‘We don’t yet. But never fear, we will have won, there’s no doubt about that, in spite of the interfering of your clever little friend.’ 
‘Why did you bring her here?’ 
‘We had to. I had to know what was going on and when to lock ourselves away down here. I wasn’t going to get caught in the middle of it all.’ 
‘Yes,’ added Corrine. ‘Although we arranged the war, we had no idea exactly how or when each side would respond.’ 
‘So Suzette was tricked into coming here?’ 
‘Of course. At first, Monsieur le Directeur thought she had been the one who had destroyed the tracking station at Laroque but we now know it was a British assassin. You see, the British thought it was the French who were up to no good.’ 
‘And, I suppose, they became convinced that the British were trying to destroy their new project.’ 
‘Ridiculous, isn’t it? The French were just about to inform the rest of NATO when we decided to act instead.’ 
‘And killed all those people?’ 
‘They were expendable. Mere peasants.’ He looked at Philippe. ‘Are you with us or not?’ 
‘I would never support such action, you should know me better than that. I would die rather than go along with you in this madness.’ 
‘Then I’m afraid you must follow your good-looking friend. But first, give me your gun.’ He held out his hand. 
Philippe shrugged. ‘I don’t have it.’ 
Louis began to look suspicious. ‘Where is it?’ 
Philippe held out his arms. ‘I must have put it down somewhere.’ 
Louis pointed the revolver straight at Philippe’s head and cocked it. He was angry. ‘Tell me, where is it?’ 
There was silence for what seemed like an eternity as the two men glared at each other across the table. 
‘Shoot him,’ said Corrine sadistically. ‘We don’t need him any more.’ 
‘Don’t make me kill you, Philippe,’ said Louis. ‘For the last time, tell me where your gun is.’ 
‘It’s here, Louis,’ said the quiet voice from the doorway. 
Louis’ head turned and his mouth dropped open. Philippe’s automatic was pointing straight at his face and, from his angle, the bore looked as big as that of a cannon. Suzette’s arms were none too steady and he read fear in her eyes and dared not move. His experience told him this girl’s nerves would be stretched as tight as a drum and he knew for a certainty that if he made one false move, she would pull the trigger and simply keep firing until the magazine was empty. She may not be any good at all with a gun but, at six feet, even a complete novice could not miss. 
‘I thought you were dead,’ he whispered hoarsely. 
‘Put down the revolver,’ Philippe commanded quietly and Louis glanced at him briefly and reluctantly obeyed. 
It was now Corrine’s turn to cry the tears of defeat as Philippe pocketed Louis gun then went over to Suzette. Slowly, he placed his arm round her shoulders, kissed her cheek gently and carefully removed his automatic from her shaking hands. 
‘Why?’ asked Gillian, still furious in spite of the apparent resurrection of her best friend. 
Louis was defeated and he knew it. ‘For power, what else?’ 
‘Who was it that perpetrated this heinous crime against humanity?’ Jim asked. ‘Communists? Terrorists?’ 
‘No-one so dramatic. Just a group of big businessmen from all parts of the world who are sick of the restrictions and handicaps enforced upon them by governments and politicians who hadn’t the faintest idea what they were doing.’ 
‘But you must have known that you would be killing millions, maybe billions of lives, surely?’ 
‘Of course. But the end result was to be worth the sacrifice.’ 
‘But it wasn’t you who were making the sacrifice, was it?.’ 
‘Where are these evil people, Louis? Where is their headquarters?’ 
‘They were all due to meet in Switzerland for a conference. While they were there, they had arranged to take over a group of fallout shelters and then use Princess to start a chain reaction which was to destroy the world as we know it. They would then return to the hideout and wait. The world to follow was to be a far better one. One without leeches and time-wasters.’ 
‘Sounds a bit like animal farm,’ said Gillian. 
‘We don’t yet know whether they succeeded, do we?’ interjected Jim. 
‘No, we don’t, do we?’ said Suzette, most of her decorum now reinstated. ‘We must start scanning for transmissions to find out. Where is the master switch for Princess, Louis?’
Louis noticeably recoiled at her request and realised that she knew all about the shut-down. However, he did not answer so Suzette grabbed him roughly by the lapels, hauled him to his feet and, with the energy from her pent-up anger, shook him like a rag doll until Corrine rushed forward and grabbed Suzette’s long hair and pulled at it, forcing her to drop Louis. Without hesitation, Suzette twisted and lashed out with all her strength and the sound of her blow vibrated around the room as Corrine fell backwards in heap on the floor, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. 
‘I think you’d better tell her, Louis,’ said Philippe in the ensuing silence. ‘Suzette looks just a little bit upset to me.’ 
Louis looked sad then, beaten, he stood up and went down into the main control room where he indicated a small panel in the side of the console. ‘It will do you no good, you know.’ 
‘We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?’ Suzette said. 
‘In the meantime,’ said Philippe. ‘What do we do with you two?’ 
‘We have nowhere to lock them up,’ observed Jim. 
‘They deserve to be shot,’ condemned Gillian. 
‘They do. But that would make us no better than them,’ added Philippe. 
‘But we can’t watch them the whole time. And if we don’t, they might try to get in contact with these friends of theirs.’ 
‘I still say they must die,’ said Gillian. ‘They are guilty of mass murder.’ 
‘I killed no-one,’ whined Louis. 
‘What about Henri and Pierre?’ said Suzette. ‘Corrine didn’t have to kill them.’ 
‘She said they knew too much.’ 
‘They knew nothing,’ said Gillian. ‘They were innocent like all the others. Why did you tell Philippe to kill Suzette?’ 
Louis shrugged. ‘She had the knowledge to stop us. Besides that, she found out about the dish. She had to die.’ 
‘When will all this killing stop?’ 
‘When we have complete control.’ 
‘How do you know that all your friends weren’t killed as well?’ 
‘We don’t.’ 
‘Then you could be the only ones left of this “Consortium”.’ 
Louis looked down. ‘Yes, we could.’ He looked up. ‘But I don’t think so.’ 
‘Where will they be, these others?’ 
‘They are at the hideout. But I would die before telling you where that is.’ 
Philippe shook his head sadly. ‘I don’t know what we are going to do with you.’ 
‘Let us go,’ said Corrine as she stumbled into the room, still groggy and nursing a jaw which had swollen considerable. 
‘Go? Go where?’ asked Jim incredulously. 
‘Outside. Anywhere. We will leave and take our chances on the surface.’ 
‘But that would be like committing suicide.’ 
‘What alternative do you have?’ asked Louis. 
‘Probably none,’ said Philippe.
~~~~~
SUNDAY 1st AUGUST - 1445 hrs.
Louis and Corrine departed that afternoon in the Fourtrack. Dressed in radiation suits and with the interior sealed, they would stay alive for a while before either radiation or lack of food and water killed them. It was sad in a way as the others watched them depart from the comfort of the upstairs office. They had allowed them some of the precious food and a full tank of fuel. They might get to Switzerland, if that was where they were headed. On the other hand, they might not. The remaining four sat together in silence for some time before any of them spoke. Gillian rose first and, taking Jim by the hand, headed for one of the bunkrooms. 
Philippe watched Suzette carefully. He had only known her a matter of weeks, but he knew that he loved her. She was, on the outside, a tough young woman who could take care of herself whilst underneath, he guessed, was a heart yearning for real love and protection. He knew enough about her to know that she would not commit herself easily, but when she did, it would be for keeps. 
‘Suzette,’ he offered. 
She looked up and smiled a little. 
‘You nearly gave me a heart attack today.’ 
She looked enquiringly at him. 
‘Next time you point a pistol at someone and threaten them, make sure the safety catch is off.’ 
They both laughed for some time and it broke the tension. She moved over to sit next to him and put her head on his shoulder. ‘Will you help me?’ 
‘Of course. How?’ 
She stood up suddenly and held out her hand to him. For a second, he thought that she was going to lead him to the bedroom as Gillian had Jim but, instead, she led him down the stairs to the control room. Switching on all the monitors, she opened the panel that Louis had shown her and threw the red switch beside the tracking lever. Lights came on all over the console. High in the sky over Eastern Somali, power was restored to integrated circuits and heat sensors as a satellite came back to life. Princess was alive again.
~~~~~
MONDAY 2nd AUGUST - 0200 hrs.
It was some hours before the scanning pattern could be re-established and the data began to flow smoothly. Jim and Gillian awoke to take over their half of the watch shift and made their way down to the control room. 
‘Well,’ said Gillian as she stretched. ‘I thought you two would be in bed.’ 
‘Not yet,’ replied Suzette, naive as to the true significance of her friend’s remark. ‘I’ve got to ascertain the state of play.’ 
‘Is Princess working okay?’ asked Jim. 
‘Like she has never worked before.’ 
‘And?’ asked Gillian. 
She turned to them. ‘It’s bad.’ 
Gillian sat down. ‘How bad?’ 
‘If I understand it right, it appears that this freak nuclear winter is limited to a strip of the earth’s surface about five hundred miles wide, roughly between the latitudes 45 and 52 degrees north. The cloud layer within that strip is so thick and heavy that the sensors cannot penetrate to the ground of most of France, Southern England, Germany, Switzerland and right into Eastern Europe.’ 
‘So this snow could cover all that area.’ 
Suzette shrugged. ‘Yes, it could. Until the cloud thins, I can’t get an accurate reading within that area. I have to surmise that you are right and all of central France is caught in this gigantic snow drift.’ 
‘What about the rest of the world?’ 
‘Although outside the scanning range, I guess the strip of cloud, and winter, probably continues right across Asia and maybe even to the USA. Within that area, I guess that little will live. As for the rest of the world, who knows what damage the fallout has done?’ 
‘So what can we do?’ asked Gillian. 
Suzette shrugged. ‘Keep searching for signs of life.’ 
Some time later, the printers still clattered and screens still flashed as Philippe bent down and picked up the sleeping Suzette and carried her up to bed. Jim had taken over the data evaluation and had managed to decipher some of the information despite the fact that Gillian hung onto his arm as though daring him to shake her off. 
In the bunk room, Philippe looked down at the sleeping Suzette for several minutes before kissing her gently and climbing into the upper bunk. He lay awake for some time contemplating their predicament. The radiation level outside had decreased to about twice the normal. At the present rate of decay, they ought to stay inside for most of another week. They had food left for about three days and fuel for five. The figures were not the most sleep-inspiring. He eventually dropped off and dreamt of Suzette as an ice maiden, running frantically towards him with arms outstretched but never quite reaching him whilst slowly melting under a giant mushroom cloud.
~~~~~
WEDNESDAY 4th AUGUST - 1100 hrs.
After two more days of scanning, it was quite clear that would learn no more by staying inside. Europe appeared to be dead. The sensors could not give back any readings from the area of the densest cloud, so nothing was definite but, as far as they could tell, no heat source radiated from the entire scanning area. They could not even locate Louis’ fourtrack which, Suzette knew, would be putting out enough heat to be identified and located under normal conditions. The conditions, however, were far from normal. 
That evening, Suzette made a decision. ‘Phillipe, I want to move the dish.’ 
‘Away from Princess?’ 
‘Yes. I think she has told us all she knows for the time being. That cloud of frozen particles is here to stay, at least for the time being. I want to scan for other satellites.’ 
‘You’re the boss.’ 
‘No, I’m not. You are. I’m asking you for permission to scan the elliptic for possible transmissions.’ 
‘Go ahead if you think you can do it.’ 
‘I don’t know until I try. The dish may be frozen solid. Or we may move the dish and never be able to locate Princess again.’ 
‘Suzette. You are the expert. You do whatever you think is best.’ 
She nodded, opened the panel, took a deep breath and rotated the knob. The digital readout began to roll as the picture from Princess faded into static. She was committed. The dish, after breaking its initial ice seal, rotated easily on its tractor arm. It scanned from east to west, vertically and horizontally polarized, but with no response. 
‘Well?’ asked Philippe some hours later when Jim and Gillian had risen from their rest period. 
‘Nothing. Either the cloud barrier is too thick and active to allow penetration of a signal from other satellites or, quite simply, there is no one else alive to transmit. I have no idea which.’ 
‘So we’re going to have to go and look for ourselves,’ proffered Philippe. 
‘But the radiation is still too high,’ said Gillian with a glance at the strontium-90 indicator. 
‘I’m afraid we have no choice in the matter. We must find food and water and, even more urgently, diesel oil for the generator.’ 
‘How will we do that?’ 
‘I still have my car,’ said Suzette. 
‘Do you think your helicopter survived, Philippe?’ asked Gill. 
‘I’m not sure. Even if it did, it’s covered with snow at the moment and I don’t intend digging around in radioactive snow to find out. Any way, if I was to take off, I might never find a safe place to land. Snow is very deceptive from the air. No, it’s Suzette’s car, I’m afraid.’ 
‘Who will go?’ asked Jim. 
‘I’ll go,’ offered Suzette. ‘After all, it’s my car.’ 
‘Very well,’ said Philippe. ‘I’ll go with you. If nothing else, it will give these love birds a bit of privacy.’ 


~~~~~
WEDNESDAY 4th AUGUST - 1400 hrs.
The big garage door opened automatically and the world was white. Where the wind had blown, great ravines were scored out of a soft, cotton-wool landscape. Huge drifts were piled against the sides of buildings and it was not easy to see where the road might be. Suzette started the engine and the car crept out of the garage. They were in an alien world of ice and snow which was shrouded in semi-darkness for much of most days. Suzette and Philippe had on their fallout suits for safety but, after ensuring that the level was acceptable inside the car, they removed their helmets. Suzette crept forward in first gear until they were well clear of the buildings. Although it was not easy to tell road from field, all the ground was rock hard and, as long as she did not try to cross a ditch, the ride was not too bumpy. Behind them, the tracks disappeared almost immediately as the snow drifted onto the road surface. 
After a mile, they came to the Seine, frozen solid and, as far as they could tell, devoid of all life. Ships sat trapped against the quays, as if caught in a time warp. The surface of the road into Rouen itself was slippery but they made it along the quays as far as Quai Cavelier de la Salle where they parked and looked out at the scene which confronted them. The city was silent, buildings looking grotesque under their hideous white shroud. Somewhere, inside, there would be bodies - men, women and children who had died when the poisonous shower had descended as soft flakes from the sky. 
‘The buildings look intact,’ observed Suzette. ‘It’s hardly possible to believe there has been a war.’ 
‘It’s misleading. Nearer to Paris, the picture may be very different. There will almost certainly be extensive damage both to buildings and to the environment. That ordeal will await us later.’ 
‘Where do we go?’ 
‘Let’s get fuel first. That’s the most important item on our shopping list.’ 
Suzette edged the car forward and, at an old fashioned station on the Cours Clémenceau, Philippe cranked by hand as Suzette topped up the car’s tank with petrol and then filled several jerricans with diesel oil for the generator and placed them into the boot. 
‘Let’s see what food we can find,’ said Philippe as they got back into the car. 
‘Which way?’ 
‘Turn right at the next junction. We’ll cross the river into the old part of the city.’ 
‘Do you know Rouen well?’ 
‘A little. My wife came from here.’ 
Jim had told her about Liselle. She touched his arm. ‘I’m sorry.’ 
He shrugged. ‘It was a long time ago.’ 
Suzette carefully drove over the Seine and followed his instructions until they reached a place where the road was blocked by abandoned cars. 
‘Turn down here,’ offered Philippe, indicating a side turning. 
? Suzette looked at the sign. ‘It’s a one-way street.’ 
Philippe smiled. ‘I don’t think anyone will be coming the other way, do you?’ 
She shrugged. ‘I suppose not.’ 
The road was clearer and they soon passed the Place du Vieux Marché where the Maid of Orléans had been burned alive. The whole place, including the long sweeping roof of l’Eglise Jeanne d’Arc, looked grotesque somehow and out-of shape. The ferocious wind which had blown for several days had taken much of the snow away from these narrow streets and odd things stuck out of the snow. Suzette shuddered at the the thought of frozen bodies in the square. They parked beside Les Halles and, at a supermarket in the Rue d’Alsace Lorraine, obtained supplies of canned food and drink as they dare not risk anything which was not well sealed inside a steel can. 
The shop was empty of bodies. It was as if people had simply evaporated in some way. There was not one trace of life remaining anywhere. No footprints, no tracks, no smoke, no fire. Life in Rouen had abruptly ceased. The town which had, since the days of the Romans, thrived with life and activity now stood silent and still. Only the sound of the very-much decreased wind broke the stark silence. 
Suzette squeezed Philippe’s hand as they walked back towards the car when, suddenly, they heard it. Above the whistle of the wind came the thwack-thwack-thwack of rotor blades. Suzette’s heart beat at treble pace at the sound as she stepped out into the square. But caution persuaded Philippe to ease her gently into a shop doorway as the helicopter passed overhead. The possible implication of its south-westerly course dawned on them both as they ran for the car, dropping boxes of cans onto the back seat. The Cosworth roared into life and skidded sideways as the power hit all four wheels simultaneously. Suzette followed Philippe’s directions as they roared along narrow streets, having to take alternative roads at times because of the stranded vehicles. Eventually, they picked the D3 and headed at breakneck speed, racing for the subterranean tracking station where their friends waited unsuspectingly. 
Philippe prided himself on being an expert driver but he marvelled at the way that Suzette managed to negotiate bends on sheet ice with drifting snow all but obscuring visibility in places. It was ten minutes before they arrived at the tracking station and saw the helicopter standing in front of the garage. Suzette drew to a halt a hundred metres away. From that distance, they had no way of knowing who it contained. One thing was certain. Whoever it was had known exactly where to come. Philippe took out his automatic and checked the action. They closed the car doors carefully and, avoiding the sight-line of the cameras, slipped towards the garage door. As they approached, several figures came out of the building pushing Jim and Gillian in front of them. Philippe and Suzette hid behind an electricity sub-station as the people, heavily armed and obviously far from friendly, climbed aboard the helicopter which rose into the air and then, in a cloud of raised snow, headed southwards into the semi-darkness. When they had gone, Philippe opened the garage door whilst Suzette fetched the car. Trying to follow a helicopter was a pointless exercise so they may yet have a use for Princess. 
Closing the door, Philippe took Suzette by the hand and headed for the showers but Suzette struggled to break free. ‘Let me go, I’ve got to track them to find out where they are going.’ 
‘Not until you’ve been in the shower, young lady. I’m not risking you being contaminated.’ 
‘But it’s my fault they’ve been caught. If I hadn’t turned Princess back on, the Consortium wouldn’t have known we were here.’ 
‘Maybe not, but you’re coming in the shower if I have to strip you naked and then drag you in myself.’ 
She looked daggers at him for several seconds before consenting to the shower which would wash away the last traces of any radioactive fallout particles. Then, partially dry, Suzette slipped on her tee-shirt and panties and headed for the control room, drying her hair as she went. Philippe started the generator which had been turned off and began to refill the tank with the diesel in the jerricans from the car. Sat at the console, Suzette turned on the monitors and switched the tracking control to seek for Princess’ frequency. After a few minutes, she had it and the computer started to de-scramble the data into some logical progression. 
She was still struggling with the data when Philippe came in. ‘Located Princess all right?’ 
‘Yes. But something is wrong,’ she said, looking confused. ‘The data is corrupted.’ 
‘Corrupted? What do you mean?’ 
‘Something is interfering with either the signal or the computer.’ 
‘What sort of a something?’ 
‘A radiation source of some kind. Are you sure we are clean?’ 
With his heart in his mouth, he held the geiger counter close to her body but it gave no positive reading. He took it around the room in search of the possible radiation leak. After a couple of minutes, he found what he had suspected but had hoped he would not find. 
‘What is it?’ Suzette asked. 
‘They’ve triggered the self-destruct sequence.’ 
‘Are you sure?’ 
‘Of course I am.’ He put his head in his hands for a moment. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. Yes, my darling, it’s a small nuclear device with a timer fitted.’ 
‘How long have we got?’ 
‘Not long enough if we leave right now.’ 
‘Can you stop it?’ 
‘Not possible. Once the sequence has been triggered, it’s only a matter of time. Load in the destruct programme and let’s see the status.’ 
Suzette ran her hands over the keys and the screen cleared. 
‘C: >’ it said. 
‘DESTRUCT’ she typed. 
‘Destruct ready >’ 
‘STATUS DESTRUCT.’ 
‘Status - CADE (ON) > 
- PRNCS (OFF) >’ 
‘So,’ pondered Philippe. ‘They’re not trying to eliminate Princess herself, only the Computer Assisted Data Evaluation system inside this tracking station.’ 
Suzette pressed more keys. ‘STATUS TIME.’ 
‘Time = Destruct minus 02:55 02:54 02:53 >’ 
‘We’ve got less than three minutes. What will happen?’ 
‘I’m not sure. The device is not a big one as bombs go. But then it doesn’t have to be. However, if I get it wrong, it will leave quite a hole in the ground.’ 
‘What can I do to help?’ 
‘Fetch me the tool kit from upstairs.’ 
Suzette ran upstairs and returned almost immediately and presented it to Philippe, who already had the small access door open in the side of the console. The device was easy to locate and, after several minutes of perspiration and tension, it was open. Carefully, Philippe withdrew a black cylinder about six inches long and handed it to Suzette before he gently pushed the charge back inside. 
‘Be careful with that. Whatever you do don’t shake it or drop it.’ 
Suzette stared at the cylinder. ‘What is it?’ 
‘It’s the detonator. That alone could blow your head off if you knocked it.’ 
Her eyes went wide open. ‘Just this little thing?’ 
‘Oh yes.’ He stood up, took it gently from her and released a knob on one end. He tossed it to her and she squealed. He laughed at her face. ‘It’s quite safe now.’ 
‘Beast.’ She stared at it. ‘Could this have destroyed Princess?’ 
‘No, only the tracking station. If they had set it to destroy the satellite as well, we would have needed a special number sequence to deactivate that.’ 
‘What number sequence?’ 
‘Whatever they programmed it to accept.’ He briefly showed her the procedure. ‘But get it wrong and everything goes up, Satellite, tracking station, personnel. A very efficient way to prevent the equipment falling into the wrong hands.’ 
‘I can see that.’ 
‘Now we only have one problem.’ 
‘What’s that?’ 
‘Soon, they will expect to see or hear some kind of explosion and when they don’t, they will be back. Maybe not immediately, but they will return.’ 
‘Do they know we’re here?’ 
‘I doubt it or I think they would have waited for us. They would know we wouldn’t have been able to stay outside indefinitely.’ 
‘What can we do?’ 
‘Well they can only catch us if we are still here.’ 
‘Do you mean we should leave?’ 
‘We may have to. See if the data corruption had cleared now. If we can locate their heat source, we may be able to follow them and attempt a rescue.’ 
‘I’ll do what I can,’ she said and punched buttons on the console. Princess scanned her entire portion but Suzette concentrated on the data from BX. Fortunately, the radioactive cloud was thinner there and she got some response. 
‘Found them?’ 
‘Yes, but they are very faint. The cloud must still be very thick.’ 
‘Where are they?’ 
Suzette consulted her data. ‘Close to Evreux, by my estimation.’ 
She followed them for some time and then said resignedly ‘I’ve lost them.’ 
Philippe pulled out a map. ‘What was their last observable location and course?’ 
She consulted the data and compared it with the map. ‘Heading roughly south-south-eastwards just north of the Loire near Chartres.’ She looked up. ‘Where could they be headed?’ 
‘Almost anywhere,’ he replied thoughtfully. ‘They are not going to Switzerland, that’s for certain, not in that direction. What else is on that particular line of flight?’ 
She ran her finger down the map. ‘Vichy, Clermont-Ferrand.’ 
‘What if they turned south after Orléans?’ 
‘Limoges, Brive, Cahors, Toulouse,’ she read off the map. ‘Toulouse will have been destroyed, won’t it?’ 
‘Almost certainly. Toulouse is...er...was a big industrial city. We’re looking for somewhere not too big, where houses will be still standing and all the people will have been killed by radiation alone.’ 
She held her finger on the map and considered. ‘Philippe. If it was you, where would you go?’ 
‘I’d go somewhere south of the main destruction belt, somewhere isolated, somewhere high until the radiation has cleared completely. Somewhere warm until the winter disperses. Somewhere...’ 
‘I know where they’re going,’ she interrupted. 
‘Where?’ 
‘Trust me. Are they likely to return today if they spot that the bomb didn’t detonate?’ 
He looked at his watch. ‘Unlikely. It’s more likely they will stop to refuel and then return tomorrow. Why?’ 
‘We must leave at first light,’ she declared. ‘I’m going to get myself some sleep.’ 


~~~~~
THURSDAY 5th AUGUST - 0700 hrs.
Dawn saw them headed south-eastwards on the A13 towards Paris. By sticking to Autoroutes, where possible, they could anticipate the course of the road better through the covering of snow with its occasional deep drifts. As predicted, when they neared the city there was evidence of wholesale destruction and even the autoroute became almost blocked in places by stationary cars, many of them totally burnt out. The snow was unpredictable. Because of being open, the autoroute had been kept relatively free of snow by the wind. However, in the occasional sheltered location it could be quite deep. 
Cutting south, they picked up the A10 and headed towards Orléans. It had been totally raised to the ground and they found it difficult to negotiate even around the outskirts of the once-beautiful city. They parked for a while beside the Loire which had once teemed with river traffic and wildlife but was now totally dead. Burnt out cars littered the Quai Barentin and the four main bridges of the city were conspicuous by their absence. 
Philippe looked at his watch for a moment. ‘Well, the bomb we reset will have gone off by now.’ 
‘So we’re safe?’ 
He nodded. ‘For a while.’ 
‘East or west?’ 
‘What?’ 
‘Do I go east or west to look for a bridge. In case you haven’t noticed, this is a river and it is very wide and deep.’ 
‘Try east. At least the river gets narrower upstream.’ 
Suzette laughed. ‘One awful long way upstream. The Loire comes right across France from the Massif Central.’ 
‘I’m sure we’ll find a way across sooner or later.’ 
‘Okay boss. East it is.’ 
They left along the Quai du Roi and were soon heading east along the N60. 
‘Tell me,’ said Philippe thoughtfully as they skirted Châteauneuf-sur-Loire. ‘Will the tracking station at Rouen have been the only means of communicating with Princess?’ 
‘I did think so at first. However, the fact that they located us so quickly when we turned Princess back on and then chose to blow it up themselves proves they must have another way of receiving data from her.’ 
‘You mean, another tracking station?’ 
‘Almost certainly. When I was being held prisoner at Rouen, one of them mentioned another location. Perhaps this other location was not totally destroyed. Maybe it is now functioning again and that is why they no longer need the one at Rouen.’ 
‘That’s a lot of “maybes” and “perhapses”.’ 
‘It is, isn’t it?’ She laughed. ‘It’s possible we shall soon wake up and find out this has all been some terrible nightmare.’ 
‘I hope not.’ 
‘You do?’ 
‘If it wasn’t for the Consortium, I would never have met you.’ 
‘Philippe, you say the nicest things at times.’ 
‘I do, don’t I? Tell me, do you really know where they are?’ 
‘Not for an absolute certainty, but I do know where to start looking.’ 
‘Where?’ 
‘At my place.’ 
He frowned. ‘At your place? Where’s that?’ 
‘A little isolated village in the Pyrenées. Like you said, “somewhere small, somewhere isolated, somewhere high, somewhere warm”. In other words - Laroque des Albères.’ 


~~~~~








DUET IN BLOOD


SATURDAY 7th AUGUST - 1600 hrs.
The man in combat dress watched carefully through the telescopic sight of his high-powered rifle as the white Cosworth wound its way up the narrow Vallée Heureuse. Eventually, the car stopped at a villa half hidden by the trees surrounding the grounds with their lawns and swimming pool. Closely observing the couple below him, he eventually spoke into the mouthpiece of his radio. ‘Dos hombres arriva.’ 
If his eyesight had been better, he would have observed that there was in fact only one “hombre”. The other person was far from being a man. He could be excused his error due to the fact that the twenty-three year old beauty who accompanied the first “hombre” was dressed in overalls and a baseball cap which effectively disguised her gender. 
Unaware of being watched, Suzette opened the front door to her late mother’s house and looked around her. Pulling the cap from her head, her dark hair cascaded about her shoulders as she shook her head after their long journey from Rouen. They had struggled to cross the river and had eventually been forced to cross via the ice, a nerve-wrecking episode which Suzette hoped she would never have to endure again. South of the Garonne, the belt of snow had disappeared entirely and Southern France was baking hot, even here, high up in the mountains. The war had certainly played havoc with the weather. 
Suzette stepped out the overalls which had been her mode of dress for the last week, threw herself onto the bed and closed her tired eyes. 
‘Drink?’ offered Philippe, standing by the open refrigerator, observing the variety of food, drink and wines it contained. 
‘Not now, thanks,’ she replied without opening her eyes. ‘I just want to relax for a while.’ 
‘I know how you feel. Okay if I sample the wine?’ 
‘Help yourself.’ 
He looked across at her laying on the bed and was very tempted to prove to her how much he loved her but just now, he knew, was not the right time to do that. Perhaps later, when she felt less tired. Instead, he held up a bottle of Rosé and poured himself a generous portion before opening the patio doors and walking out into the brilliant sunshine. It was very quiet as not a trace of a breeze stirred the trees and no wildlife disturbed the silence. It was so quiet he could almost believe he had gone deaf. 
Suzette gradually dozed off, hearing only faintly Philippe’s footsteps as he walked around the pool. After a while, she heard another sound through her half-awake senses. 
‘Nice here, isn’t it?’ she offered without opening her eyes against the sunlight which shone in the opened doorway. When there was no reply, she half opened her eyes as the shape came towards her. 
Instantly, she was wide awake. It was not Philippe! She struggled to rise but she was held down firmly by several strong hands that pinioned her arms and legs. Her mouth opened to scream but a large hand clamped over her face, stifling both sound and breath as her chest heaved in panic. Catching her breath, her eyes opened wide with fear as the other hand came up and a switch blade snapped open inches from her face. 
‘Silencio,’ said the man who had clearly neither washed nor shaved in a week. He raised his eyebrows. ‘Comprendez?’ 
She nodded as far as she was able and her eyes watched the thin blade as her whole body trembled violently at the thought of what was about to become of her. For what seemed like a very long time, no-one moved as the men all leant over her prone form. Then, another man entered the room. He was tall and dark with a thick beard and was also dressed in combats. Stepping to the bed, he leant forward, looked at her closely and began to laugh. The other men let go of her and joined in the merriment as she sat up and clutched her arms around herself in an attempt to suppress the tremors which ran through her body. 
‘Have I changed that much, Sweet Suzette?’ the newcomer asked with a smile. 
Suzette stared at him and her mouth fell open. ‘Roger? Is it you, Roger?’ 
‘Of course it is, my little sister.’ He sat on the bed next to her. ‘I thought you were still in England.’ 
She jumped to her feet, threw her arms around his neck and held him very tight. ‘Oh, Roger, I’m so glad to see you. I was in England when all this started.’ She drew back after a moment. ‘What are you doing here?’ Her eyes darkened. ‘And where is Philippe?’ 
‘Philippe? The boy friend in the cellar? He’s nursing a headache.’ 
‘What have you done to him?’ 
‘Nothing much. What is he to you?’ 
‘Nothing...’ she replied quickly, then added with a smirk, ‘Yet.’ 
Roger laughed aloud. ‘And I always thought you were the elderly spinster type.’ 
‘I was once, but not now. I’ve changed quite a lot just lately.’ 
‘You sure have.’ He looked at her and then poked her in the bare midriff. ‘If you knew the effect you had on my companions, you wouldn’t wander around with practically nothing on.’ 
She quickly went across the room and selected a denim skirt from her alcove and slipped it on, much to her brother’s amusement. ‘Who are your friends, a bunch of sex maniacs?’ 
‘No, Sweet Suzette. Just some colleagues I’ve picked up in the mountains. They were Basque Separatists before the Holocaust. Now we have another enemy, one we are united against.’ 
‘So they did come here?’ 
He grabbed her firmly by the upper arms. ‘What do you know of them, Suzette? Who are those people on top of the mountain?’ 
‘Fanatics. Businessmen who were tired of government restrictions on free trade, assisted by others who hope to benefit in a more material way. Nuts who plan to rule the world.’
‘What’s left of it.’ 
‘Where have you been since last year?’ 
‘Oh, here and there,’ he replied quickly and then looked at her meaningfully. ‘I had to go, Suzette, I think you know that. You and I were beginning to get too close.’ 
Suzette touched his face gently. ‘And here was I thinking you didn’t love your little sister any more.’ 
‘Exactly the opposite. I left because I loved you too much.’ He looked down. ‘I still do.’ 
‘Don’t go again, Roger. Promise me that whatever happens, you won’t leave me again.’ 
‘What about the boy friend.’ 
‘I love him, too, Roger. I can’t explain why, but I do. I need you both.’ 
He kissed her gently. ‘I won’t go away again. Tell me, what are they up to on the mountain?’ 
‘It’s a satellite tracking station. It was damaged somehow a few weeks ago but they must have repaired it.’ 
‘Why is it so important to them?’ 
‘It has probes on it that can pick up heat emissions. The computer can then sort out the data and show any movement of vehicles anywhere in Europe. Good grief, you know what that means?’ 
‘No. What?’ 
‘They must know I am here.’ 
‘How?’ 
‘They could have followed the car’s heat emission as we drove south. Under the cloud, we would have been difficult to follow but, here, out in the open, we will have been easy to spot. We must get away from here.’ Her eyes were dark as she pondered. ‘I wonder why they haven’t come already.’ 
‘Perhaps they have no-one to read the data correctly.’ 
‘I suppose that is possible. Maybe that’s why they tried so hard to catch me in England.’ 
‘You have led an exciting life since I’ve been away.’ Roger thought for a moment. ‘I wonder how we can get up onto the mountain.’ 
‘Well, my car can make it up the old goat track.’ 
‘Splendid. There has to be another way, too, so we can divide our forces.’ 
‘How many men do you have?’ 
‘Five, including me.’ 
‘Seven with Philippe and I.’ 
‘Could this Philippe of yours be useful to us?’ 
‘He saved my life several times. I think he was once some kind of James Bond in the French secret service. He certainly knows how to use that automatic of his. By the way, can I see him?’ 
Roger stood up and held out his hand to his sister. ‘Of course you can. Let’s go see if he’s come round yet.’ 
Suzette took his hand. ‘I hope you haven’t hit him too hard. I wasn’t kidding, I really do like him, you know.’ 
‘That sounds quite funny coming from you.’ 
They walked across the kitchen and the door to the cellar opened with a creak and Roger stepped forward only to be thrown to the ground by the flying Philippe. The scuffle lasted a few minutes before the frantic Suzette managed to persuade him that these were, in reality, friends and that their leader was her own brother. 
‘What are you doing here?’ he eventually asked. 
‘We’ve come to blow up the tracking station,’ replied Roger. 
‘You can’t do that,’ interjected Suzette. 
‘Why-ever not?’ 
‘It could be very useful to us. We could use it to find anyone in Europe. We need to find my two English friends and rescue them if we can.’ She explained what had happened at Rouen. 
‘Will they be here?’ 
‘I don’t know. They were taken away from Rouen in a helicopter.’ 
‘Couldn’t they have been taken somewhere else?’ 
‘I guess they must have been,’ said Suzette with a heavy heart. She suddenly sat up straight ‘The cable car.’ 
‘What cable car?’ 
‘The cable car at La Fargue. We could use that to get up the ridge near the mountain.’ 
‘But it hasn’t been used for years and it could be damaged now.’ 
‘It could be, but is it not worth a try?’ 
The two men looked at each other. ‘What do you think, Philippe?’ 
‘I’m game for anything. Tell me, what weapons do we have?’ 
‘No shortage of those. We broke into an army camp near Toulouse after the fallout had killed the base personnel. We have a whole truckload of goodies, enough to blow up the whole mountain if need be.’ He looked out the window. ‘Ah, here comes lunch.’ 
‘Lunch?’ Suzette looked puzzled, then her face lit up as she ran down the stairs onto the patio. The girl who had just got out of her 2CV was overwhelmed by Suzette’s hugs and kisses. ‘Marianne, Marianne. You’re alive.’ 
The younger girl gasped. ‘Not for much longer if you are keeping squeezing me like this.’ 
‘I’m just so glad to see you. How’s Uncle Raoul?’ 
They walked around the pool together, arm in arm, and chatted girl things while Roger and Philippe watched from the patio door with some amusement. 
‘Marianne and her father were very lucky,’ said Roger. ‘They were clearing out the cellar of his restaurant at the time of the action and Marianne had the good sense to keep them both underground until the fallout cleared. I think they practically lived off wine and cheeses for a week. Raoul hasn’t recovered from his hangover yet.’ 
Philippe laughed at the thought and collected the trays from the back of the Citroen where Marianne had left them. The freshly-baked bread smelled good and the cheese was good as they ate and watched the two girls chatter excitedly in the hot sunshine. 
‘By the way,’ said Roger. ‘I haven’t thanked you for looking after Suzette, have I? I’m grateful, you know. I never expected to see her again, not alive, anyway.’ 
‘It wasn’t all down to me, you know. Suzette is quite capable of looking after herself in many ways. Your sister is quite a girl.’ 
‘Suzette has always been very special to me. We are all that’s left of the family now.’ 
‘Not quite. You might be lumbered with me soon.’ 
He laughed. ‘So I hear.’ Roger held out his hand to Philippe. ‘Welcome to the last family in the world. Or is it now the first?’ 
‘That depends on what happens. We need Princess more than ever right now.’ 
‘Will it really do the things Suzette said, read the heat emissions on the ground, tell where people are?’ 
‘Oh yes, and more. Suzette can coax all sorts of data from the satellite, that’s why we must take the tracking station without damaging it. That satellite could mean life or death to the whole future of mankind as we know it and Suzette is the key link in that future.’ 
‘Hmm. Then we had better tread very carefully indeed.’ 


~~~~~
The helicopter arrived without warning. One minute everything was very peaceful, the next, it was raining cannon shells as it came in very fast from the west. Philippe leapt forward and pushed Suzette and Marianne into the pool to escape the hail of lead while the other men dodged behind buildings. It didn’t take long. Ten minutes later the house and gardens were a disaster area as Suzette helped Marianne out of the pool while the sky was overcast with black smoke. Suzette’s face was black, not from the smoke, but with thunder. 
‘Bastards,’ she shouted into the air, shocking both Roger and Philippe. 
Before they could stop her, she was in her car and stones were flying from all four wheels. Marianne leapt into the passenger door just in time as Suzette gunned the engine, producing full power from the Cosworth Engine. Roger shouted for her to stop but she didn’t hear him, she had a one-track mind. She was unarmed and female, but she was going to kill them all, with her bare hands if necessary.
~~~~~
SATURDAY 7th AUGUST - 1800 hrs.
‘Quickly, the truck,’ said Roger. ‘Manuel, Petros. Get the others.’ 
‘Drop me off at La Fargue,’ said Philippe, peering at the map as they drove up the hill. ‘I’ll try this cable car Suzette mentioned. The more directions we arrive from, the more confused they will be.’ 
‘Okay, it’s just ahead. Take Carlos and José with you. They are both used to this kind of thing.’ 
‘Thanks, I might need them.’ He turned in his seat. ‘Pass me that M16 and half a dozen clips.’ 
At the disused cable station, Philippe and his two colleagues jumped from the truck which continued in its pursuit of Suzette’s car which, by now, was raising dust on the lower slopes of Pic Neulos.
~~~~~
THE COSWORTH roared around the hairpin bend while Marianne frantically hung on for dear life. ‘Are you sure we are doing the right thing, Suzette?’ 
‘Yes. If we don’t, those men will sit there talking about action for days while these thugs destroy everyone’s lives. They must be stopped and they must be stopped now.’ 
‘All right, Suzette. Whatever you do, I am with you.’ 
The car left the road at the ridge and landed with a screech of tyres on the tarmac road which wound its way up from Le Perthus. The throttle opened wide and the wheels spun, leaving four black streaks on the grey road surface. At the top of the hill, the familiar shape of the Tracking Station came into sight as the helicopter landed beside it. Without hesitation, Suzette aimed the bonnet through the gateway and onto the pad. Marianne dived for the floor and the windscreen shattered as it hit the guide rotor of the ‘copter. Suzette swerved round in a tight curve on the dry gravel while gunshots passed by the car. 
The stricken helicopter wallowed without the steadying power of the tail rotor and men dodged the turning tailplane as Suzette attacked again, the wind blowing her hair back from her face, her sunglasses reflecting the wild scene before her. Had she hesitated, they would both have died right there and then. However, she gave them no chance at all as she ploughed, foot hard down and engine screaming, straight into the group frantically trying to head for the low, flat-roofed concrete building. Marianne was terrified as Suzette drove straight at them, scattering them everywhere only to skid to a halt outside the steel door that led inside. The car would never be the same again but there was one helicopter that would never fly again, would never carry murderers again, would never kill again. 
Despite the hail of bullets, they somehow managed to get inside and shut the door. They had no idea how many might be inside the station, but she guessed they would be mainly admin and scientific personnel. The staff in the control room were shocked into immobility by the sudden intrusion of two beautiful young girls, one in white blouse and denims the other in tee-shirt and blue skirt. For several minutes, no-one moved as Suzette stared wide-eyed at the banks of technical equipment surrounding her. This place put both Cambridge and Rouen to shame. The door burst open behind them and the shouting broke the silence. One of the men raised his machine pistol. 
‘No, you fool,’ cried one of the men in white coats. ‘Not in here, you’ll damage something.’ 
‘They broke our helicopter.’ 
‘Two girls? Don’t be ridiculous.’ 
‘But they did. This one,’ He poked Suzette in the stomach with his gun barrel. ‘This one drove her car into it and broke the tail rotor.’ 
The scientist nodded. ‘Typical. I select the hardest, toughest men I can lay my hands on and some... girl gets past all of you. Do I have men or chickens?’ 
‘But...’ 
‘Don’t make excuses. Make sure they do no more damage.’ 
Instantly, the two girls were quickly held firm and Suzette suddenly felt very tired. 
The leader approached her. ‘I could have you killed for this.’ 
‘Like all the others?’ 
‘What others?’ 
‘All the people who have died.’ 
‘It was necessary to retain world peace.’ 
‘Oh, that old ideal,’ Suzette sneered. ‘Ensure peace by murdering everyone who disagrees with you.’ 
His face went dark. ‘I don’t have to take that from you.’ He looked at one of the thugs. ‘You, there. Take them outside and tie them to a tree. Let the men use them for target practice.’ 


~~~~~
SATURDAY 7th AUGUST - 1900 hrs.
The cable car seemed painfully slow as it clanked from tree-top to tree-top, Carlos and José looking decidedly unhappy about being so far from the ground. As they lifted over the last rise, Philippe could see the tracking station on top of the hill above them. Through his borrowed binoculars, he could see the stricken helicopter and also saw Suzette’s Cosworth. A pang of terror gripped his heart as he imagined what might have happened to her and Marianne as he had heard a lot of shooting and both girls could now be dead. How he wished that things could have been different. He had got her into this and now had killed her as certainly as if he had pulled the trigger himself. A movement to his right caught his eye as he saw the truck struggling up the forest trail towards the Pic. He smiled as he thought of their useless action. They had no plan, no leader, no hope.
~~~~~
ROGER felt sick as drove up the steep incline, listening to the gunfire ahead and feeling the hopelessness of the situation get to him. His foot was pressed hard to the floor as the lorry ground its way upwards but he knew he was going to be too late, his sister and cousin were almost certainly dead by now and he was angry. If it was the last thing that he ever did, those men would all die for what they had done.
~~~~~
BEFORE the cable car reached the top, Philippe and his two men had dropped into the undergrowth beside the Tagnarède Ravine and started to climb the steep slope towards the tiny reservoir beside Pic Neulos. In the distance, they could hear the labouring engine of the truck as it beat its way up the mountain. One thing was certain. If they could hear it, so could the enemy.
~~~~~
SATURDAY 7th AUGUST - 1930 hrs.

Roger saw them before they saw him. He stood on the brake and slewed the truck round across the road to give them some protection and then ran round to the back of the truck. With the help of the others, he pulled out a long box stencil-marked “Diablos”, and carefully lifted the lid.
~~~~~
SATURDAY 7th AUGUST - 1940 hrs.
Philippe and his two colleagues crawled over the ridge on their stomachs and inched towards the small group of men around the helicopter’s broken rotor. He also saw the smashed windscreen on the Cosworth and the dents on the roof of the car and smiled at the thought that Suzette must have done all that. She had taken her chance and, because of her actions, the enemy were now trapped here, on this mountain. There was no sign of either of the girls and they might well have already died, but that brave girl had struck a solid blow for freedom. The three men aimed their rifles and waited for Roger’s signal.
~~~~~
SATURDAY 7th AUGUST - 1950 hrs.
Roger rested the long tube across the bonnet of the lorry, sighted carefully and then pressed the button. A long wire trailed out from behind Diablos as it streaked towards the already stricken helicopter.
~~~~~
SATURDAY 7th AUGUST - 2000 hrs.

Pieces of metal flew in all directions as the missile struck and Philippe instinctively ducked before opening fire at the rebels. Inside the tracking station, the gigantic explosion made them all look round. The scientist focused the closed circuit monitor and saw the helicopter in flames. 
‘Get out there and find out what’s going on,’ he commanded the guards. ‘Leave the girls in here with us. I’m sure we are capable of looking after them.’ 



~~~~~
The uniformed men left and Suzette winked at Marianne as she slid surreptitiously towards the side room which contained the main tracking console. The scientist and his assistant watched on the monitors as the main fuel tanks exploded on the helicopter. Seeing them distracted, Suzette grabbed Marianne’s hand and dragged her into the control room, slamming the door behind them. As Suzette stood beside the console, the banging started on the door. Ignoring them, Suzette dropped the side panel and repeated Philippe’s manoeuvre from Rouen. 
‘They are breaking the door down,’ muttered Marianne. 
‘It’s all right, I only need thirty seconds.’ 
‘Come out,’ shouted the voice. ‘If you come out now, we’ll let you go.’ 
Suzette looked up at her cousin. ‘Do you believe them?’ 
Marianne shook her head. 
Suzette smiled. ‘Neither do I.’ She returned to the screen and autobooted the programme. 
‘Ready >’ said the amber words on the screen. 
‘DESTRUCT,’ typed in Suzette as Marianne watched. 
‘What are you doing?’ 
‘I am going to scare pants off them.’ 
‘Are you sure? (Y/N) >’ asked the screen. 
‘Y’ she entered as Marianne held her breath. 
‘Do you wish to save co-ordinate data? (Y/N) >’ 
Suzette smiled. Dump this and, whatever happens next, they are really lost. ‘N’ she typed sadistically, destroying the stored data. 
‘Data NOT saved. Do you wish to arm the satellite? (Y/N) >’ 
Arm the satellite? What does that mean? The door began to splinter. She ignored it. ‘N’ 
‘Do you wish to activate the PRNCS self-destruct sequence? (Y/N) >’ 
‘Y’ 
‘Self-destruct initiated. Enter six-digit code >’ 
Suzette thought for a moment as Marianne backed away from where the door began to sway and then entered the required number. 
‘Code selected. Default time delay is three minutes. Do you wish to continue? (Y/N) >’ 
‘Y’ 
‘Self-destruct sequence in operation. Press red button to activate >’ Then came the word she hated the most. ‘End >’ 
The door burst open and the leader stared at the flashing screen. ‘What have you done?’ 
‘I’ve activated the self-destruct procedure.’ 
‘You’ve done what?’ He pulled out a revolver and held it against the end of her nose. ‘Don’t play with me, girl, or I’ll kill you right now.’ He cocked the pistol. 
Suzette pressed the red button behind her. ‘You’ve got three minutes.’ 
The room went deathly silent as the two scientists and Marianne looked at her. The assistant went to the keyboard and looked down at the digits on it. 
‘You know what happens if you get it wrong, don’t you?’ Suzette warned. 
‘Shoot her now,’ said the assistant. 
‘Not without the number,’ said the scientist and his left hand held Suzette round the throat and shook her hard whilst his right jabbed the barrel of his revolver into her stomach with such a force that it almost made her retch. ‘What’s the number?’ 
Suzette slowly opened her eyes against the sea of darkness that threatened to drop over her senses as she struggled to breathe. She looked at the clock, then back to his face. ‘Two minutes.’ 
He released her throat and peered at her closely. ‘Who the hell are you?’ 
She looked him straight in the eyes. ‘Suzette Blackman.’ 
He let go of her as if he had been bitten. His lips moved as he sat down but no sound came. 
‘Why don’t you shoot her?’ said the other man. 
‘It’s a waste of time. We’re all done for.’ 
‘What do you mean?’ 
‘This is the girl Monsieur le Directeur warned us about, the one who killed the team here before us. If she is who she says she is, she really has programmed the auto-destruct on the satellite.’ 
‘Is that bad?’ 
‘Not if you are a mind reader. Only the entry of a six-digit number in that keypad will stop the self-destruct sequence. In about a minute, when the satellite explodes, this building and probably the whole mountain goes up in sympathy.’ 
‘Can this slip of a girl do that to us?’ 
‘Oh yes, my friend. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that she had actually written the original programme. Monsieur le Directeur told me she’s certainly capable of doing so. Unless you can persuade her to place the six numbers in her mind into that keyboard, in the correct order, all of us are about to go to another world.’ 
‘I’ll make her tell,’ the other man said grabbing hold of the front of her tee-shirt and almost lifting her from the ground. 
The scientist looked up at Suzette. ‘He’s wasting his time, isn’t he, Mademoiselle Blackman?’ 
Suzette nodded. 
‘What do you want us to do?’ 
‘Go outside and surrender to my brother. If you don’t, you only have another thirty seconds to live. I’m not touching anything until you are right outside with the door closed.’ 
The leader gave up. ‘Come on, Francois. We can’t win here.’ 
Reluctantly, the assistant let go of Suzette and her clothing fell back into place. They went out. Suzette entered six numbers as Marianne ran over and held her tight. 
‘Did you really mean it?’ she asked eventually. 
‘About Princess? Oh yes, better for her to be dead than helping the Consortium.’ 
‘No, about blowing up the tracking station with us in it?’ 
Suzette smiled weakly and put her hand in the belt of her skirt at the back and pulled out a short, black cylinder. ‘Not really, I removed the detonator.’ 
‘D...detonator?’ 
‘I watched Philippe deactivate a similar one at Rouen. While it was inserted into that panel, it could have triggered off a thermonuclear device inside the console. The slightest shock can set it off.’ 
Her friend backed away and looked at it with awe and Suzette laughed. ‘Don’t worry, it’s quite safe until it’s armed.’ 
Suddenly, the door burst open again and the scientist staggered into the doorway, blood streaming from his face and was clearly badly wounded. He stared a cold stare at Suzette as he took off the safety catch and raised the gun. ‘You evil little witch.’ 
She looked him straight in the eyes and, behind her back, turned the small knob on the end of the cylinder. 
He smiled as his finger went white on the trigger. 
Suzette smiled back at him and held up the innocent-looking object. ‘Don’t you want this?’ 
‘What is it?’ He held out his hand. ‘Give it to me.’ 
‘Very well. Catch!’ 
She casually tossed the live detonator to him.
~~~~~
SATURDAY 7th AUGUST - 2300 hrs.
They were all very tired. After the battle to take the tracking station, there had been the burial of the bodies. They had been lucky. All the enemy were dead with no loss to themselves. Philippe entered as Suzette slumped over the terminal, exhausted. 
‘Any luck?’ he asked, propping his automatic rifle against the wall beside the door. 
‘Only the same as before. Heat emissions in the southern Cévennes, none close to here.’ 
He sat down beside her and placed his arm around her shoulders. ‘So we are safe for a while?’ 
‘It would seem so. What are we going to do?’ 
‘We’ll discuss it in the morning. Right now, we all need some sleep.’ 
‘Is there anything left of the house? I left in too much of a hurry to notice.’ 
‘Sorry, pet. It’s still in one piece but there is too much broken glass about and quite a bit of fire damage to some of the outbuildings. It looks like we’re lumbered with life in a satellite tracking station till we find time to repair the house or find somewhere else.’ 
‘Where’s Roger?’ asked Marianne, handing them both cups of coffee. 
‘He’s looking at Suzette’s car.’ Philippe turned back to Suzette. ‘It’s a very brave thing that you did there, attacking a helicopter with a car.’ 
‘I wasn’t brave at all, I was livid.’ 
Philippe laughed. ‘That was quite evident. I’m just glad you survived.’ 
‘So am I. Give us a cuddle.’ 
He did as Roger entered. ‘Hullo, lovebirds.’ 
‘Hi, Roger.’ 
‘Suzette,’ said her brother, sounding playfully cross. ‘If you are going to drive around crashing into things, I’m going to buy you a Sherman tank instead of a car.’ 
‘Is it badly damaged?’ 
‘Nothing that a new windscreen, a dozen tins of filler and a gallon of paint won’t cure.’ 
‘Will you be able to fix it for me?’ 
‘Yes, no problem. I’ll pop down into Perpignan in the morning. There was once a Ford dealer near the station, he might have a screen stashed away somewhere.’ 
Suzette looked sad. ‘You make it all sound so normal, as if there had been no nuclear war, as if they were all still alive.’ 
‘I’m sorry, sis. I didn’t mean to remind you.’ 
‘It’s not your fault.’ She rubbed her eyes. ‘I’m just very tired and awful bitchy.’ 
‘Then why don’t you and Marianne take yourselves off to bed? Philippe and I will finish clearing up in here.’ 
Suzette’s eyes went involuntarily to the freshly-cleaned area near the door and she shuddered. Rising, the two girls said goodnight and slipped into the scientists’ old quarters. 
‘You really do look about ready for bed,’ noted Marianne. 
‘Oh yes. I’m very tired, but I can’t stop thinking about that man.’ 
Marianne sat down on the bunk beside Suzette and held her hands. ‘Suzette, he was evil. You had to do it.’ 
‘But I killed him.’ 
‘Suzette, look at me.’ 
Suzette turned to face her. 
‘If you hadn’t, he would have shot you and then he would have killed me, too. What you did saved my life and I’m very grateful.’ 
‘You’re very kind to say so, Marianne.’ 
‘That’s what cousins and are for, isn’t it?’ 
They laughed and Marianne stood up and stepped out of her denims while Suzette rolled onto her bunk. Marianne made to ascend the ladder to the top bunk. 
‘No,’ said Suzette, holding out her arms. ‘Come in with me.’ 
Marianne hesitated, then stepped down, lay beside Suzette and held her tight while she sobbed herself to sleep.
~~~~~
SATURDAY 7th AUGUST - 2330 hrs.
The moon rose over La Vianèze as Monsieur le Directeur sat at the desk in his office, writing. He looked up briefly at the sound of rotors and, a few moments later, the phone rang. ‘Oui?’ 
‘Ils-sont ici.’ 
‘Eh bien. Je-descenderai immédiatement.’ 
He turned off his reading lamp, closed the door to his makeshift office and went down into the reception area of the Chateau they had commandeered at Mandagout. Jim and Gillian were being held tightly by two soldiers. 
He pointed at them. ‘Qui est ces?’ 
‘Les prisoniers, Monsieur le Directeur.’ 
‘Imbecile! Ou sont les autres prisoniers?’ 
‘Les autres?’ The Captain looked puzzled. He had only found these two at Rouen and knew of no others. 
‘Oui,’ repeated the Rebel leader. ‘Ou sont les autres?’ 
The Captain shrugged so he tried a different tack. 
He turned to Jim. ‘Where are the others?’ 
‘What others?’ 
‘Don’t be smart with me. The Blackman girl and the French spy. Where are they?’ 
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ 
The Directeur sighed and turned to the Captain. ‘Take the girl into the courtyard. Strip her and hang her by the wrists from the gateway. Then take a whip to her. Perhaps the sound of her screams will encourage his memory.’ 
The Captain smiled and reached out towards Gillian who cowered away from him. 
‘Wait!’ called Jim. 
The girl was livid. ‘Don’t you dare say a word, Jim Marshal. After all we’ve gone through, I don’t intend to give in now. They can kill me if they like but don’t tell them anything.’ 
‘Kill?’ interrupted the Directeur. ‘Oh no, my dear. Not yet, anyway.’ He turned his attention back to Jim. ‘Now then, what have you got to say?’ 
Jim looked at Gillian then said to the Directeur ‘They left before your men arrived.’ 
‘Left?’ 
‘Yes, in the car. To explore for food and fuel.’ 
‘Then we have nothing to worry about from that quarter. You may be interested to know that we left a little thermonuclear welcoming package for them at the tracking station.’ 
They looked shocked at the news until Gillian started to cry over the apparent loss of her friend. 
‘It’s no use snivelling, girl. You are the only ones left now that have refused to come under our control. I will give you just one opportunity to join our Consortium. If you refuse, I regret you must join your friends in hell.’ 
‘So be it,’ said the tearful girl. ‘We would rather die than support your evil cause.’ 
‘Come now, it’s not that bad. We rule all Europe now and it’s only a matter of time before the rest is ours. You would do well to reconsider.’ 


~~~~~
SUNDAY 8th AUGUST - 0900 hrs.
Suzette stirred and opened her eyes a little as the handle turned and the door slowly began to open. Suddenly, she was wide awake as the unshaven face looked at her. ‘Breakfast, Senorita?’ 
‘Si, gracias,’ she nodded to Petros who had become self-appointed cook. The door closed softly and Suzette gently shook Marianne, who awoke with a start, threw back the bedclothes and sat up in her undies. 
‘It’s okay, Marianne. It’s breakfast time.’ 
The younger girl put her head in her hands. ‘Oh, Suzette. Did it all happen yesterday or did I dream it?’ 
‘It happened. I suggest you put something on before Petros returns and his eyes pop right out of his head.’ 
Marianne looked down. ‘I see what you mean.’ 


~~~~~
SUNDAY 8th AUGUST - 1100 hrs.
Suzette had been at the computer all morning and there were piles of print-outs all around the desk tops. Roger and Marianne sat close by, hand in hand. 
‘Are you sure about their position?’ she was asked eventually. 
‘Yes, Roger. They are hiding out in the hills somewhere just south of Mount Aigoual. I can’t be more precise without knowing the exact deviation angle.’ 
‘The what?’ 
‘The deviation angle. There is a correction line in the autoboot programme and the problem is that the angle towards Princess is different from here than it was from Cambridge or Rouen. A degree or two would have made little difference to the weather data but, when you’re trying to pinpoint specific movements on the ground, the situation is quite different. You have to be far more accurate and I can’t be, not with the information I have available.’ 
‘So we have to look for them somewhere in the southern Cévennes. That’s an awfully large area.’ 
‘I’m sorry I can’t be more precise, Roger. I just remember that Louis called it the hideout.’ 
‘Was he speaking in English or French?’ asked Marianne suddenly. 
‘French, if I remember right.’ 
‘La Planque?’ 
‘That’s right. In English that’s the hideout.’ 
‘No. La Planque is a place. Where’s that map?’ 
They searched until they found a large-scale map of the Massif Central in one of the trucks. 
‘There, look,’ said Marianne. ‘Don’t you remember, Suzette? Grandmother deBosvile lived in the Mandagout valley. When I was a child, I used to visit her and go cherry-picking.’ 
‘What’s it like?’ asked Roger. 
‘Let me see. It’s surrounded by mountains in a kind of dead-end valley full of chestnut trees, and there’s a small stream running from the rock face, through the village itself and close to the Chateau.’ 
‘Sounds like a perfect place for a hideout.’ 
‘It is. Remember our family history? Don’t you recall the account in the De Bosvile Chronicles?’ 
‘You mean about Lord Andrew and Lady Mary from England?’ 
‘Yes. It was Andrew’s father, Sir John de Bosvile, who first discovered the hidden valley and took Andrew’s mother, Sarah, there to recover from her illness.’ 
‘You mean this hideaway is where they built their cabin and fought against the bandits from La Valette?’ 
‘That’s the place. It took years for them to be discovered. It’s practically cut off and the only ways in are a couple of very narrow roads which are virtually impassable in bad weather. The valley itself remains fine but all the passes get blocked very easily.’ 
‘So it looks like we try Mandagout.’ Roger turned to Suzette. ‘Have you tried to listen in to other transmissions, to see if anyone else is still alive?’ 
‘Not since we have been here. I tried at Rouen but the cloud was too thick. Perhaps, here, it might be better.’ 
‘Will you try? We can’t leave here yet, so you have an hour or so.’ 
‘Will do. Can Philippe help me with the dish mechanism?’ 
‘Sure. I’ll find him for you. I’ll see you later. I’m going into town to try to fix your car.’ 
‘You’re a pet.’ 
‘So are you, my little sister.’ 
Suzette stood up and released the main tracking motor coupling solenoids which held the big dish securely aimed at Princess and began to scan, first with positive then negative polarisation. Philippe came in a few minutes later and took over the movement of the dish while Suzette manipulated the scanner frequency. Suddenly, the monitor burst into life as the static suppressant dropped out and the sound of rock music filled the room. Suzette threw back her head and laughed hysterically and it took Philippe as well as Petros and Marianne to calm her down. 
‘What is it?’ asked Marianne. ‘What does it mean?’ 
‘Don’t you see it? Don’t you understand?’ 
‘Suzette, calm down. Tell us what’s happening.’ 
‘It’s music, music,’ she said, rubbing her hands together like an excited child. ‘Look at it. It’s wonderful, beautiful. Everything’s going to be all right.’ 
‘Suzette, tell us what it is.’ 
She looked at them with a smile. ‘It’s MTV.’ 


~~~~~
SUNDAY 7th AUGUST - 1300 hrs.
They were in a madly ecstatic mood when Roger returned at lunchtime in view of the news that at the United States had survived, at least in part. 
‘You do realise what this means, don’t you?’ posed Philippe. 
‘No. Tell us.’ 
‘It means that, soon, pioneers are going to come across the Atlantic with their covered wagons to find a new life in the New World, a land of plenty and promise. Instead of Europeans flocking to America, they’ll be coming here and offering beads to the natives.’ 
‘The natives?’ 
‘Us. We are the redskins now. The boot is on the other foot.’ 
They laughed aloud and the tension dissipated as MTV still blasted out from the monitor. 
Suddenly, Suzette held up her hand as a presenter came onto the screen. ‘We interrupt this programme with a news flash.’ 
They all fell silent as the man read out the announcement. ‘At seven o’clock this morning, European time, the United Nations Naval Task Force left the Azores on their final leg to finding out what has happened in Europe. Since the unconfirmed reports of war and the subsequent radio silence, the United States government has been unable to find out any further information as none of the long-range aircraft sent to investigate have returned. It is hoped that more news will be available by this time tomorrow. Thank you.’ 
Fleetwood Mac returned to the screen and Roger turned the volume knob. 
‘We have no time to lose,’ he said decisively. ‘We must attack now before they can use their missiles against the U N Task Force.’ 
‘How will they know where the fleet is?’ asked Marianne. 
‘With data from here, I guess.’ 
‘Then you must go,’ volunteered Suzette. ‘I must stay.’ 
‘Stay here, alone?’ 
‘Someone’s got to feed them incorrect data. Anyway, I won’t be alone. I’ll have Marianne to look after me.’ 
Roger stroked his beard. ‘I suppose so.’ 
‘Right then, brother of mine, go and shoot the hell out of them while I thoroughly confuse them.’ 
‘Can you do it?’ asked Philippe. ‘Effectively, I mean?’ 
‘My darling, by this time tomorrow they will not even know which way is up.’ 
‘Right then, how do we go about it? It’s Sunday today. If we leave in the truck tomorrow, we could be there by Tuesday at the latest, allowing for all the bridges being down.’ 
‘Señor Roger,’ interrupted one of the Basques. ‘May I make a suggestion?’ 
‘Of course, Carlos.’ 
‘We have friends not far from Perpignan. If they have survived, they will be of great assistance to us.’ 
‘More terrorists, Carlos?’ asked Suzette a little sarcastically. 
‘It depends on your point of view, Señorita,’ replied Carlos without offense. ‘Was your English Robin Hood a freedom fighter or a terrorist? Who would you ask? Little John or the Sheriff of Nottingham?’ 
Suzette placed her hand upon his. ‘I’m sorry, Carlos. I get the point. It depends where you are standing at the time as to what you get called.’ 
‘Definitely, Señorita. I expect the madmen at this La Planque right now are calling you and I terrorists.’ 
‘Forgive me,’ she said, kissing his unshaven cheek. ‘I have a big mouth.’ 
He smiled through broken teeth. ‘But a very pretty one, Señorita Suzette.’ 


~~~~~
MONDAY 9th AUGUST - 1400 hrs.
The large fleet of warships made good speed as it headed eastwards through the warm sunshine of the Mid Atlantic. The Admiral on the flagship, U.S.S. Columbia, looked behind for the last time towards the tankers which had just refuelled the two aircraft carriers and their escort of frigates and destroyers. 
‘Full speed ahead, Mr Whittaker,’ he said as he observed the radar monitor in front of him. 
‘Full speed ahead it is, sir,’ replied the carrier’s Captain and gave the order. 
The Admiral turned and consulted the chart behind him. ‘What’s the estimated time of arrival at Gib?’ 
‘ETA eighteen hundred hours, Admiral. Oh nine hundred tomorrow, off Montpellier.’ 
‘Very well, Henry. Wake me at oh seventeen hundred and...’ He turned to the Commander of the combined United Nations air and ground forces. ‘John, get those Limeys on Omaha to prime those Exocets. Let’s not get caught with our pants down in the Med, eh.’ 
The Commander smiled. ‘Aye aye, sir.’ 
The bow wave climbed the side of Columbia as aircraft carriers and escort vessels accelerated towards the coast of southern Spain.
~~~~~
MONDAY 9th AUGUST - 1500 hrs.
Suzette waited for the regular transmission of data to Mandagout to cease before commencing her plan. 
‘How will you do it?’ asked Marianne. 
‘It’s very simply really. The autoboot programme contains a simple trigonometrical equation that allows for the position of Princess relative to the equator, see, here.’ She held up a print-out. 
‘I don’t follow.’ 
‘These are the lines of instructions to the computer programme. Look at this one.’ 
‘Angle=angle+DEG(ASN*0.6)? What does that mean?’ 
‘It’s a trigonometrical equation which establishes the deviation angle of Princess from her declared position over the equator. It adjusts the data so a correct bearing can be obtained. All I have to do to throw the data out is to alter it slightly every hour. By this time tomorrow, accuracy could be several miles out.’ 
‘Can’t you make it more than that? If they decide to use nuclear missiles against the fleet, even a few miles still sounds awfully close for comfort.’ 
‘I daren’t. All the data will change, you see. At such short notice, it’s the only way to do it and if I change it too much too quickly someone is bound to notice that Paris is in Holland instead of in France.’ 
Marianne laughed. ‘And we can’t have that, can we?’ 
‘Besides,’ continued Suzette. ‘I’m no expert in armaments, but I don’t suppose the warheads will need to be terribly large to destroy the UN fleet.’ 
‘No, I suppose not. Anything really big will risk further fallout contamination to themselves.’ 
‘Well, here’s hoping they swallow the bait.’ She pushed “ENTER” and they waited for the reaction.
~~~~~
MONDAY 9th AUGUST - 1800 hrs.
Monsieur le Directeur’s internal phone rang at the Chateau at Mandagout. He answered it. 
‘The Americans are passing through the straits of Gibraltar, Monsieur le Directeur.’ 
‘Excellent. Right into our little trap. Inform Johansson at Aix immediately. He can prime the missile in readiness. Wipe out this fleet now and the last danger will have been eliminated. After that, we can put the final touches to our plan and the whole world will be ours.’ 
‘Good news, Monsieur le Directeur.’ 
‘Good news indeed. Tomorrow will be a glorious day, mon ami. A Tuesday worth remembering forever.’ 


~~~~~
TUESDAY 9th AUGUST - 0400 hrs.
U.S.S. Columbia ploughed through the darkness towards the Rhône delta with Omaha and Pennsylvania right behind her. Radio communications were discontinued and infra-red signal scopes were used to carry messages from ship to ship. The cowling protectors were removed from the twin General Electric F404 engines of the sleek McDonnell Douglas F18 fighter-bombers beneath her flight deck and the air to ground warheads beneath their wings were activated. On Omaha, the helicopter gunship crews were briefed and the lifts started to raise them onto the deck as the first tinge of dawn touched the peak of Mount Canigou.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0500 hrs.
The operator of the rebel missile base at Aix-en-Provence studied his screen carefully. He frowned. ‘Something’s not right.’ 
‘What do you mean? What’s not right?’ 
‘I don’t know. I just have a feeling.’ 
‘You’ll have to give me more than that before I disturb Monsieur le Directeur so early in the morning.’ 
‘It’s just that... I didn’t know the American ships could move so fast.’ 
‘How do you mean?’ 
‘I’ve plotted their position now for two days and their speed has been fairly constant. In the last few hours, they seem to have travelled several miles more than they should have done.’ 
‘Perhaps they’ve got some new secret device.’ He laughed. ‘You worry too much. The satellite can’t lie, so the data must be correct, mustn’t it?’ 
‘I suppose you’re right,’ said the operator, deep in thought.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0600 hrs.
Roger drove his truck onto the narrow stone bridge over the River Vis in the deep gorge at Madières and started to climb into the first of the many hairpin bends in the foothills of the Massif Central. 
‘Will we be seen by this Princess, Senor Philippe?’ asked Carlos as he sat beside him. 
‘Seen, yes. But not recognised. Suzette has found a way to eradicate the data concerning our presence from the computer’s memory banks. If we had been spotted, they would have destroyed us as we crossed the Causse du Larzac - while we were in the open for almost an hour. So far, according to what my sister told me before we left, we are in a kind of artificial blind spot, however, when we get closer, we could be spotted.’ 
Roger negotiated a tight bend and Philippe continued. ‘Suzette said it would look suspicious if all DX data was corrupted, they have their own movements and will be aware of those. The data she supplies to them must match those movements.’ 
‘Gracias. How long do you think we have?’ 
Roger looked at his watch ‘When we get to the top of the incline, if this wagon ever makes it, we will be on another plateau. At the far side, we descend the winding valley and should cross the Arré at Le Vigan in about half an hour. After that it’s a short climb over the pass to Mandagout.’ 
‘Will the pass be guarded?’ 
‘Almost certainly.’ He smiled. ‘I’m glad you found some of your friends in Perpignan because that is where our first taste of blood will be.’ 


~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0700 hrs.
Suzette stopped printing and consulted one of the other monitors. 
‘What’s happening?’ asked Marianne. 
‘It looks as if the fleet has almost stopped.’ 
‘Where?’ 
‘Off the coast close to Montpellier.’ 
‘Do they know exactly where to look for the Consortium?’ 
‘They may know it’s France but France is a big country.’ 
‘Can we contact them, do you think?’ 
Suzette suddenly smiled. ‘Marianne, you’re a genius. Go and see if you can find a transmitter of any kind.’ 
The fair-haired girl pushed through the broken-down door to the control room and started to search. She had little idea what she was looking for so she simply looked for anything electronic that didn’t have a screen on it. In a cupboard near the door, she found it. 
Carefully, she pushed down the switch marked “STAND-BY” and held the microphone in her hand.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0710 hrs.
The Directeur leant over in his bed and picked up his ringing phone. ‘Oui?’ 
‘Monsieur le Directeur, we have picked up a strange radio transmission.’ 
He yawned. ‘What does it say?’ 
‘It just keeps repeating “Les Rénégats á Mandagout, Les rénégats á Mandagout”.’ 
He sat bolt upright. ‘Who is transmitting?’ 
‘I don’t know yet, we’re trying to locate its source.’ 
‘Very well, keep trying. I must know immediately.’ He slammed down the phone and re-dialled as he drew on a shirt. 
‘Aix?’ he said as it was answered. ‘It seems we could have a problem. Is the missile ready?’ 
‘As you instructed, Monsieur le Directeur. Primed and ready to launch.’ 
‘Do you have the precise location of the American fleet?’ 
‘Naturellement. We have been following their progress with precision. They are cruising slowly close to Palavas.’ 
‘Have they launched any aircraft yet?’ 
‘Non, Monsieur le Directeur.’ 
‘Bien. Then you must launch the missile immediately, I repeat, launch the missile immediately. We must destroy the American fleet before they receive the message which will help them to locate us.’ 


~~~~~





FINALE


TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0715 hrs.
The intercom on the bridge of Columbia buzzed and Captain Henry Whittaker picked it up as he stared out of the front screen towards the French coast in the far distance. 
He turned to his Commanding Officer. ‘Admiral, Sparks has picked up a radio transmission on UHF.’ 
‘And?’ 
The Captain read, ‘Roughly translated, it says “Renegades at Mandagout.”’ 
‘Where the hell’s Mandagout?’ 
‘I don’t know, sir. I’ll try to find out.’ He picked up the intercom. ‘Captain Whittaker here. Could you send Chief Engineer Dupont to the bridge?’ 
There was a pause of several minutes before the French engineer was found and he arrived, breathless, and saluted before the officers. 
‘Chief, we have received a message concerning somewhere called Mandagout. Do you know where it is?’ 
‘Mandagout, sir?’ 
The Admiral looked at Commander Jakes with raised eyebrow. The Commander re-consulted the message and nodded. 
Marcel Dupont looked puzzled. ‘Is there any indication which part of France it is in, sir?’ 
‘No. You’re the Frenchman, Chief.’ 
‘The only Mandagout I know is a village just north of Le Vigan, Admiral. It is a very tiny, insignificant place in the Southern Cévennes but the hideout there, appropriately called La Planque, was one of the centres for the resistance during the war.’ 
The officers looked at each other. ‘Is it the kind of place where rebels are likely to be hidden out?’ 
‘It’s certainly isolated, sir. High in the mountains with nothing but chestnut trees, terraced vineyards and a few holiday gîtes.’ 
‘Not the most likely location for a rebel headquarters, Admiral,’ said Captain Whittaker. 
‘Has Sparks tried to contact whoever it is who is sending the message?’ 
‘Yes, sir. But whoever is transmitting is obviously not an expert and hasn’t switched to receive.’ 
‘Can we believe the message, do you think?’ 
‘It was a girl’s voice, sir, and she sounded awfully frantic. I would stake my life on its sincerity.’ 
‘You might have to do just that before the day is through, Henry.’ He made a decision and turned to the Commander. ‘John, inform Omaha. The target is Mandagout. Give him the co-ordinates.’ 
The communicator suddenly spoke. ‘Radar here, Admiral. Bandit missile launched from red twenty.’ 
There was silence for several seconds. ‘Well Henry, I guess this rules out a peaceful compromise.’ 
He gave orders with a precision that had come from years of experience in Vietnam and the Gulf. ‘Scramble, Commander. Get your Hornets into the air.’ 
He turned again to the Captain. ‘Hard a port, Mr Whittaker, prepare to take evasive action.’ 
He pressed a button on the console in front of him. ‘Signals, tell Omaha to head for the Rhône delta and to get all her gunships airborne immediately.’ 
He looked up at the sky which seemed so blue and peaceful in the early morning sunshine but the peace was shattered as jetfan engines ignited and a steady procession of deadly aircraft lifted from the flight deck. 
The Admiral pressed the button on the communicator. ‘Updates, please, radar.’ 
‘Warhead - range, forty miles and closing.’ 
‘Thank you, Radar. Mr Whittaker, emergency action stations. Prepare to launch anti-missile missiles.’ 
‘Aye, aye, sir.’ 
The big ships turned and covers were pulled from pods along the sides of all the ships as the destroyers accelerated to protect their precious convoy.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0720 hrs.
The Directeur was stopped by a man with a sheet of paper in his hand as he descended the stairs, still knotting his tie. ‘Monsieur Le Directeur. The transmissions have been identified.’ 
‘And the source?’ he asked without hesitating. 
‘Our tracking station at Laroque des Albères. A woman’s voice.’ 
The Directeur stopped suddenly. ‘Laroque? A woman? Do we have a woman at Laroque?’ 
‘Non, Monsieur le Directeur.’ 
He looked stricken. ‘Bring those two English people to me immediately. I want to find out what is going on around here.’ 
Within minutes, Jim and Gillian were thrust into the room in front of him. He played back a tape-recording of Marianne’s voice. It said ‘Rénégats á Mandagout. Rénégats á Mandagout.’ 
‘Who’s voice is that?’ 
Jim and Gillian looked at each other, clearly puzzled. ‘I have no idea,’ said Jim honestly. 
The Directeur sighed and began to get to his feet. ‘Why do I have to hurt people before they’ll tell me the truth. Sergeant...’ 
‘It’s true,’ said Gillian frantically. ‘I’d like to be brave and say we wouldn’t tell you even if we did know, but we honestly don’t know who it is.’ 
He stared at her for a long time before he sat down again. He sighed. ‘Very well. I will deal with you later.’ 
The phone rang. His assistant picked it up. ‘Oui?’ 
‘Communications here. There’s something wrong with the data coming in from Laroque.’ 
He looked shocked. ‘The data? But it can’t be.’ 
‘I’m afraid it is. I have confirmed our own movements and it is definitely corrupted.’ 
The Directeur was informed and a look of pure hatred came over his face. ‘That Blackman bitch, I’ll bet. Get me Aix immediately.’ 
His assistant dialled frantically and the Directeur snatched the phone from him as it was answered. ‘Aix here.’ 
‘Stop the launch,’ he shouted into the phone. ‘The data is wrong.’ 
‘Too late, Monsieur le Directeur,’ came the reply. ‘Your last instructions were to launch the missile immediately and it has been programmed to converge on the last known position of the fleet.’ 
He dropped the phone and stared at the smashed handset on the floor and muttered, ‘But it is going in the wrong direction.’ 


~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0725 hrs.
The console on Columbia spoke. ‘Radar here, Admiral. Warhead range ten miles.’ 
‘Thank you, Radar.’ The Admiral stroked his beard. 
‘Admiral?’ 
‘Yes, Radar?’ 
‘If it keeps the present course, it will miss us by an estimated five miles.’ 
‘Will that be far enough?’ he asked the Captain. 
‘Not if we can ride out the almost inevitable tidal wave. We can take our chances on fallout later if it turns out to be thermonuclear.’ 
‘Very well. Radar, when you have an exact position for impact, inform the Captain so the ship can be turned.’ 
‘Aye aye, sir.’ 


~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0730 hrs.
The truck cleared the lip of the hill after rolling and slithering slowly up the snow-covered steep incline out of Le Vigan. 
‘Stop!’ said Roger suddenly and the truck pulled in to the side of the road. 
‘What is it?’ 
He jumped from the truck and peered round the rocky escarpment. ‘See for yourself.’ 
Philippe looked. ‘Good grief!’ 
‘Yes. I expected the pass to be guarded, but not this well. We’ll never get past those Armoured Personnel Carriers.’ 
Carlos looked at the map. ‘What if we follow the north side of the valley and into the village that way?’ 
‘We could do that but they will see us a long time before we arrive and a reception committee will be ready for us. No, we’re stuck here until we can think of a way to get past them.’ 
‘Diablos?’ 
‘We could try, but I only have one launcher so I can only take them out one at a time. They would make mincemeat out of us in the meantime.’ 
‘We have to try,’ said Philippe. 
Roger shrugged. ‘You’re right. Carlos, take four men and cover the ground to the south. José, try and get behind them. Philippe, give me a hand with this box.’ 


~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0735 hrs.
The three sleek F18s skimmed the surface of the Hérault valley and then banked steeply through the limestone gorge in single file as the snowmelt-swollen waters rippled in their slipstream. 
‘Blue Leader to Columbia,’ relayed the radio. ‘Sixty seconds to target. Approaching Ganges now.’ 
Commander Jakes returned the instructions. ‘Columbia to Blue Leader. Select your own targets. Destroy just the military ones, and let Omaha’s ’copters deal with ground personnel.’ 
‘Aye, aye, Commander. Forty seconds to target.’ 
The aircraft cleared the ridge at St Bresson and slipped into the Arré valley west of La Rey before climbing towards the Col des Mourézes. ‘Dropping to two hundred feet. Target radar on. Blue Leader out.’ 
The radio spoke again. ‘Blue One to Blue leader. There are Armoured Personnel Carriers in the pass ahead.’ 
‘Blue leader to Blue One. Destroy all A.P.C.s.’ 
‘Blue One aye. Turning to attack now. Target radar on.’ 
The F18 skimmed the snow-covered trees as the airbrakes reduced the speed to launch. He lined up with lightning precision as his cranked wings almost took away the tops of the trees in the entrance to the pass.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0737 hrs.
‘Just look at that,’ said Roger as something resembling a giant mosquito flashed past and the percussion of the trail of exploding bombs along the pass made them wince. 
‘Mon Dieu,’ said Philippe. The APCs are all destroyed.’ 
They saw the open pass as the smoke began to clear. 
Roger smiled at his men. ‘Let’s go beat ‘em up, lads.’ 
The men opened fire on the surviving rebels as the truck jumped forward through the debris and took the narrow lane at high speed.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0740 hrs.
The Captain listened as the intercom spoke once more. ‘Impact ten seconds.’ 
‘Thank you, Radar.’ 
He pulled down a microphone. ‘Attention all crew, cover your eyes. I repeat, cover your eyes.’ 
As he finished speaking a bright light flashed across the sky and the inevitable mushroom cloud started its ascent into the air. The Admiral looked in awe. ‘Prepare for shock waves, Mr Whittaker.’ 
‘Ready, Admiral. You know, it’s a miracle. A few miles further east and we’ll have sprouted wings by now.’ 
‘Wings are for angels, Henry, not for devils like us.’ 
‘Point taken, sir. At least the angels are on our side today.’ 



~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0745 hrs.
It seemed that the whole of the valley was on fire as the truck turned into the drive leading to Le Planque. Aircraft buzzed overhead as they pulled up in front of the courtyard. 
‘We’ll start here,’ said Roger. ‘Cover me, Carlos.’ He jumped from the truck, “Diablos” under his arm. 
Philippe ran with his M16, took out three men on the balcony and then ran up the stairs, searching each room as he went. He found men, arms and supplies but no prisoners. 
Roger burst into the room. ‘Any luck?’ 
‘They’re not here. I’ve tried every room.’ 
‘Perhaps they’ve been taken somewhere else.’ 
‘Could be. We must keep looking. Suzette will kill me if I go back without them.’ 
Roger smiled grimly. ‘Me, too.’ 
They stepped out into the open air again and climbed aboard the truck as another aircraft passed overhead and banked around the top of the valley. In the distance, as they drove back towards the village centre, they could hear the thwack-thwack of rotors. 
‘Here comes the Seventh Cavalry,’ mused Roger as he saw the first of the Apache gunships through the trees. 
‘What’s that?’ pointed Philippe. 
‘What?’ said Roger, stopping the truck. 
‘That building down there close to the river. We must have passed right by it on the way in.’ 
‘It looks as if it’s on fire.’ 
Philippe grabbed the map and studied it closely. ‘It’s the old chateau. It doesn’t look inhabited.’ 
‘Maybe not, but someone in one of those aircraft saw the need to drop a bomb on it.’ 
‘Let’s go take a look.’ 
Roger heaved on the wheel and drove down the gravel drive until he could go no further for debris. 
‘It’s a damaged helicopter, look.’ 
‘Just like the one we saw at Rouen.’ 
‘Someone must be here. Get down!’ 
The windscreen splintered as automatic fire burst all around them. They dropped from the truck and rolled to the sides. 
‘Where are they?’ asked Roger. 
‘There’s one on top of the garage and another in the lower window.’ He dragged Diablos closer. ‘I’ll lose the garage.’ 
Carefully, he aimed and pulled the trigger. Suddenly, there was a mighty explosion and, as the smoke cleared, the garage was conspicuous by its absence. Philippe opened fire on the lower window as Roger headed for the back door. The Chateau was, indeed, very old but built solidly. The ground floor was almost entirely packed with crates of weapons and supplies. 
‘Up or down?’ said Roger, mentally tossing a coin. 
‘I’ll go up,’ Philippe said with a smile as he rammed a new clip of ammunition in his automatic rifle. 
Jumping to his feet, Roger held his automatic pistol in both hands and stood beside the entrance to the cellar from where it seemed the smoke was coming from. Taking a deep breath, he kicked open the door and jumped down the stairs three at a time as bullets ricocheted around him from the limestone walls. There were two men and they both died as Roger dropped to his knee and fired under one of the barrels which filled the cellar. 
As the silence returned, he noticed that blaze had taken hold of one of the sub-cellars and the men had been trying to put it out by throwing vintage wine onto it. They had failed and the fire was now dangerously close to crates of ammunition stored along one wall. It was pointless to try to put it out and he calculated it would not be many minutes before the whole Chateau went up with a very big bang. After one last look, he clambered back up the stone steps and back into the foyer. A helicopter was hovering outside, preparing to land troops crouched in the hatchway. He had a choice, warn them or find Philippe and Suzette’s friends before they were all blown sky-high. Fearing the wrath of his sister more than mere death, he ran up the stairs. 
Smoke had already begun to permeate the passageway as he stepped along it. There was so much noise outside that going quietly was pointless. Even above the noise, he heard a voice coming from the last room on the right. Dropping to his knees, he peered around the door frame at skirting height and surveyed the scene. The one who must be Jim was tied up on the floor and the man with the moustache who just had to be the Directeur was holding a bound and gagged girl in front of him like a shield. Philippe stood facing the man, his back to the doorway. Jim was barely conscious from an obvious blow on the head which was bleeding profusely while the girl looked terrified out of her mind. 
‘Give up,’ he heard Philippe say to the Directeur. ‘You’re finished.’ 
‘You, of all people, should know better than to ask me to do that. I am not giving in until I have seen that Blackman girl die for all her meddling and you are going to take me to her, now.’ He pulled viciously on Gillian’s hair who screamed in agony. 
Philippe heard the soft footsteps behind him so he slowly laid down his rifle on the floor. 
The Directeur smiled. ‘Now that is being sensible.’ 
‘Let the girl go.’ 
‘Not on your life. These two die before we leave this place. They know too much.’ 
‘It’s over, can’t you see that?’ 
‘It’s not over until I see you all die, especially Mademoiselle Blackman. You will take me to her now.’ 
‘Not me, my rebel friend,’ Philippe said loudly. ‘Suzette and I are going to be married soon.’ 
The Directeur smiled. ‘Perfect. Perhaps your death will hurt her more than her own death.’ 
Gillian collapsed to the floor as he let go of her to concentrate on Philippe. 
The Directeur raised his gun. Roger rolled across the floor, gun in hand, and kept tugging at the trigger. At the sound of the gunshot, the man jerked and convulsed several times before falling backwards. Roger jumped to his feet into the room and swept Gillian into his arms. ‘Come on, folks. There’ll be time to discuss the wedding arrangements later.’ 
He looked at the fallen rebel leader with disgust. ‘And he’s definitely not invited.’ 


~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0800 hrs.
As the helicopter started to settle in a cloud of dust, loudspeakers boomed from its superstructure in two languages. ‘All personnel remain still. Lie face-down on the ground where you are or you will be shot. I repeat, stay where you are.’ 
A group of marines burst in the main doors as Roger and Philippe descended the stairway supporting Jim and Gillian. The marines aimed at them. 
‘Get your men out, Major,’ shouted Roger as he dropped the still-dazed Gillian to her feet. ‘This place is going to go up any second.’ 
‘Who are you?’ the black Major asked suspiciously. 
Philippe let Jim slip to the floor and then cautiously drew out his identification and showed the Major. ‘Philippe Dubois, French Government Agent. These people are with me.’ 
‘Okay, man. Let’s go.’ He spoke into his portable radio. ‘Clear the Chateau. I’ve got a mon-sewer Doobwa from the Government here. We’re leaving now.’ He led his men towards the gunship as Carlos came running towards them. 
‘It’s all right, Major,’ clarified Roger quickly. ‘He’s with me.’ He turned to Carlos. ‘Is it done?’ 
‘Naturally. I got as many boxes out of the office as I could. The rest will have to burn.’ 
‘Gold?’ said Philippe, looking into the open box on the back of the truck. 
‘Of course. Even terrorists must live. Get going, Carlos. We’ll meet you back at the villa.’ 
‘Any information about the other bases?’ asked Philippe. 
‘Yes,’ Carlos pulled out a sheet of paper. ‘This was stuck on the wall of one of the offices.’ 
‘Major, over here,’ Philippe called. 
The Major ran across, cigar in mouth. 
‘These are the locations of the other rebel groups. They are only phone numbers, but at least you now know the towns involved.’ 
The major read, ‘Aix, Orléans, Luxemburg, Zurich, Laroque. You’ve done well, Frog.’ He picked up the radio.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0915 hrs.
Suzette was not totally happy. She could see the massive heat outputs from the Mediterranean area and in the Cévennes and had just noticed a mighty explosion at Aix. What she was mostly concerned about was her friends. 
‘Do you think they are all okay, Marianne?’ 
‘That brother of yours is very smart, Suzette. He’ll get them out if anyone can.’ 
Suzette looked at the screen. ‘Oh no.’ 
‘What is it?’ 
‘Heat sources, heading this way.’ 
‘How many?’ 
‘Just three. Two moving very fast and one slower source behind.’ 
‘You say fast, how fast?’ 
‘They’ve covered over fifteen miles in the last minute.’ 
‘That sounds fast. What do you reckon they are?’ 
‘Can’t tell, but you can ask them yourself, they’ll be here in a few minutes.’ 
‘And the slower one?’ 
‘May take twenty minutes or so to get here.’ 
‘Friend or foe?’ 
‘Princess doesn’t know. Hold on. The fast ones have a similar signature to several other sources heading for where the fleet are anchored.’ 
‘What can we do?’ 
Suzette shrugged. ‘Nothing but wait.’ 



~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0930 hrs.
The sun glinted from the wings of the supersonic F-18s as they passed over the market town of Argèles-sur-Mer, banked around the ridge of Pic de la Tourette and then swept up the long valley towards the summit of Pic Neulos. 
‘Red leader to Columbia,’ relayed the veteran pilot. ‘Laroque now in sight. Nothing visible in the valley below.’ 
‘Try the surrounding area.’ 
‘Will do.’ 
The aircraft veered across the Roc du Midi and as the trees dropped below them, the valley came into sight. ‘Red leader to Columbia. I think we’ve found them. There’s a place on top of the hill which fits the description.’ 
‘Very well, Red leader, you know what to do.’ 
‘Aye, Columbia.’ 
He switched frequencies as they flashed through the valley at the speed of sound. ‘Red Leader to Red One, prime missiles, let’s blow this mountain to hell and back.’ 


~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0935 hrs.
The last gunship rose into the air amid a staccato or whirling rotors and Roger went forward to the cockpit. 
‘I think that you’d better hurry, Major. I don’t think we’ve got long before there’s a real big bang down there.’ 
The Major grinned at the pilot. ‘You heard the man. Get the hell out of here.’ 
The gunship sideslipped towards the river and had barely turned to rise over the pass when a great explosion seemed to lift the helicopter and tilt it sickeningly. It took the pilot several seconds and a lot of perspiration before he brought it back under control. 
‘That was close,’ breathed the Major. 
‘It certainly was,’ agreed Roger. ‘Is your fleet air-arm going to destroy the other targets on the list?’ 
‘I think that it is what the Commander has in mind.’ 
‘Well, you can cross one place off your list. We’ve already taken the tracking station at Laroque.’ 
‘Tracking station?’ 
‘Yes. Satellite tracking station. It has been feeding information to their forces. We took it on Saturday and we have people there now, controlling the data from Princess.’ 
He turned in his seat. ‘Who, in tarnation, is Princess?’ 
‘The satellite with heat seeking probes. It’s been feeding false data to the rebel Consortium.’ 
‘So that’s why their missile missed our ships. This sounds a mighty useful piece of equipment. Where did you find all the personnel to man this tracking station?’ 
‘She’s my sister,’ admitted Roger. 
‘Your sister? One person?’ And, worst of all, ‘A woman?’ 
‘Eat your heart out, Major. That young lady has just saved Europe from total disaster.’ 
‘Probably the world, son. The first ultimatum for destruction of the United States of America arrived on the President’s desk in Washington early this morning.’ 
Gillian smiled up at Jim as he held her tightly in the hold of the gunship, surrounded by grinning marine commandos. Roger gave directions and the Major reported in as they crossed the Cirque du Navacelles.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0940 hrs.
Suzette and Marianne looked up and waved as the two aircraft streaked overhead and then banked round in a tight curve. As they retreated, the girls instinctively covered their ears as the sonic booms followed. 
‘They’re Americans,’ cheered Marianne, jumping up and down with excitement. 
They watched together and the deadly strike aircraft became mere dots as they banked out over the calm Mediterranean and then started to roar back in towards them, very fast.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0941 hrs.
The aircraft dropped almost to sea level. ‘Red Leader to Red One, I’ll destroy the houses in the valley while you take out that strange looking building on top.’ 
‘Are you sure this is the right place? When we passed over just now, I could have sworn I saw two girls waving to us.’ 
‘You and your vivid imagination. You see women everywhere, you do. I bet they were beautiful, too.’ 
‘Come to think of it, yes they were.’ 
‘Pete, you’ve got a one track mind. Let’s do what we came to do and get back to base, I’m starving.’ 
‘Okay, Red leader. Target Radar on. Going in now.’ 


~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0942 hrs.
Columbia steadied as the last of the waves passed by her stern and the incoming aircraft lined up to land on her deck. 
Admiral Davison glanced at the Captain. ‘Well, Henry. That seems to have cleared that little lot up.’ 
‘It sure has. John radioed to say that the last base is about to be destroyed at this moment.’ 
An ensign interrupted them. ‘Message from Major Slazinski, Admiral.’ 
He read the message and was horrified. ‘You mean to tell me they are our people at Laroque? I’ve just sent Red Squadron there. Son of a bitch, get me Red leader immediately.’ 
‘Aye, aye, sir.’ 


~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0943 hrs.
Suzette stood transfixed as she saw the missile launched and she clutched at Marianne as sudden death hurtled towards them at twice the speed of sound.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0944 hrs.
The radio crackled inside the F18 as it frantically banked away from Laroque to avoid the imminent shock waves which could spin his aircraft around and out of the sky. 
‘Red One, do not fire. I repeat, do not fire. They are our people down there.’ 
‘Too late, Red Leader,’ he replied as he watched the silver death flashing towards his target. ‘Missile launched.’ 
‘Abort!’ instructed his superior. 
Straining against the G-forces, the pilot stabbed at the emergency abort button and the missile suddenly changed direction and, from within ten feet of the tracking station, shot straight up in the air. At a height of sixty thousand feet, it exploded in a cloud of incandescent fire.
~~~~~
TUESDAY 10th AUGUST - 0945 hrs.
The aircraft flew right overhead and it gradually became very quiet as they receded into the distance. 
‘Are we still alive or is this heaven?’ Suzette asked of the younger girl in her arms. 
‘Both. Heaven on earth and just you and me to enjoy it.’ 
They clutched at each other in the warm morning sunshine and then Suzette suddenly let go of her friend and cocked her head on one side. She grasped Marianne’s hand and stepped over to the edge of the mountain. ‘Listen!’ 
‘What is it?’ 
‘Can’t you hear it?’ 
Marianne grinned. ‘Not MTV again?’ 
‘No,’ Suzette chastised playfully. ‘Listen.’ 
Marianne listened and, in the far distance could just be heard the very faint sound of rotors, heralding the approach of their friends. 
‘The helicopter?’ 
‘No. Closer.’ She pointed towards the trees that lined the slopes. ‘Down there.’ 
Marianne strained but couldn’t believe her ears. ‘It can’t be.’ 
‘It is,’ Suzette said, turning to face her cousin. ‘Life is returning to Europe. It’s the first cuckoo of spring.’ 


~~~~~