Assault on England (13 page)

I stopped: the jacket… a uniform… dark hair… I turned and looked out over the city toward the buildings to the west. I moved quickly to a spotter busy watching other policemen on the next roof through his binoculars.

"Let me borrow those a moment," I said, raising my voice to be heard above the flutter of another passing helicopter.

"All right. But you could ask a bit nicer," he said.

I didn't answer him. I took the binoculars and refocused them on the distant building with all the superstructures I had noticed from the conference room. I had more of a vantage point here; I could see the rooftop quite clearly. There was no movement there now. I was looking slightly down on the roof and now I noticed something set up there. As I readjusted the glasses, my mouth went dry. I was looking at what appeared to be a weapon of some kind, perhaps a mortar, and it was aimed at me.

Then I saw movement again. It was the man in the policeman's uniform but this time I noticed the dark hair and the mustache and the tall, square build. It was Jupiter.

The foreign ministers' meeting was back in session downstairs, and that damned weapon was aimed right at the windows of the conference room! Of course. Jupiter had no intention of trying to gain entrance to the Ministry building this time. He was going to make use of his excellent military training to strike from a distance.

I handed the glasses back to the spotter roughly. "Thanks," I said. I hurried over to Heather. "Get an identification of that building," I said, pointing. "Call Brutus and tell him that Jupiter is on the roof with a medium-distance weapon. Then go to the conference room and try to convince somebody to break it up. Another thing: Radio a helicopter to stand by in case Jupiter gets away. I'm going after him."

It was a hectic race on foot to the other building several blocks away. The sidewalks were jammed with pedestrians and I kept running into people. A cab almost knocked me down as I crossed a side street. At last I was there. The building turned out to be a hotel.

I waited an interminable time for an elevator and took it to the top floor. Then I raced to the stairs leading to the roof. I came out not twenty yards from Jupiter.

He was bending over his weapon, getting ready to fire it. Three wicked-looking rockets lay beside it. A rocket mortar. With three shells Jupiter couldn't help hitting the conference room. One properly aimed shell would destroy the room and everyone in it.

"Hold it!" I yelled, drawing Wilhelmina.

He whirled toward me. "You again!" he snarled. He pulled a Browning Parabellum automatic out of his belt and ducked behind the mortar. I flattened myself against the wall behind me as Jupiter fired. The slug chipped cement beside my head, showering me with a fine gray powder. I returned fire with the Luger and the slug clanged off the barrel of the mortar.

There was another service superstructure close to Jupiter. He pulled off another shot at me, missing widely, and raced for cover. I fired as he ran but missed, chipping the roof at his feet.

"It's all over, Jupiter," I yelled. "Give it up."

Jupiter leaned out from behind his cover and fired. This time the slug nicked my left arm, tearing a hole in my jacket. I grabbed the arm and swore.

Jupiter was back behind cover now. I started to circle, away from his line of vision. Moving carefully, I rounded the superstructure and there was Jupiter, not fifteen feet away.

Unfortunately, my foot scraped some gravel on the roof, and Jupiter heard me. He whirled and fired automatically, and I ducked back. I heard him running then and when I looked out around the corner, I saw him making for the mortar. He reached it, stuck his gun in his belt and picked up a rocket. The weapon was obviously already aimed.

I could not risk firing and not killing him. I shoved Wilhelmina into my belt and raced toward him. The rocket disappeared inside the cannon and I hit Jupiter and the weapon simultaneously. The mortar roared and the rocket flashed into the London sky, but I had knocked the barrel on an angle.

The rocket sizzled out over the city, missed the Ministry building completely and exploded in a small park area near it. In the moment I took to watch the rocket's progress, Jupiter smashed a fist into my face and twisted away from me. Then he was back on his feet. "Damn you. Carter!" He had the Browning out again and aimed at me. He fired and I rolled; the slug zinged harmlessly off the concrete edge of the roof behind me.

Jupiter did not try a second shot. A helicopter fluttered in and dropped down, hovering a few feet above the roof. I thought, gratefully, that it was the police chopper — until I saw the ladder being lowered for Jupiter. He was on it now and climbing; the helicopter was already moving away.

I fired but Jupiter was already scrambling inside the cabin and I missed.

Looking out over the rooftops, I saw another 'copter moving toward me. I fired a shot and waved it down. This one did belong to the police. It hovered a moment, then dropped to the roof. I ran over, ducking under the whirling blades, the wind they stirred tugging at me.

There was the pilot and Heather inside. I jumped in and pointed to the departed chopper, heading southwest out of town. "Follow it," I said.

We lifted off the roof and made a banking turn, heading out after Jupiter. We were flying into a setting sun and his 'copter was silhouetted against a peach-colored sky.

Our speed increased and, as we moved into open country we closed in on the other copter. The pilot had radioed back to the Yard about what was happening, but I knew it would probably all be up to us.

We were within a hundred yards of the other 'copter and I aimed the Luger, wishing I had a rifle, and fired a couple of shots. I hit the 'copter but I didn't do any damage. I could see Jupiter and the pilot clearly.

The sun had almost set now. If night fell before we caught them, they would be able to lose us easily. I turned to the pilot.

"Open it up!" I yelled.

The distance closed a little more. We were a long way from London now, heading in the direction of Andover. A thatched-roof village passed below us and we drew a little closer; the distance between us was not much more than fifty yards. I leaned out and fired again. This time I hit the gas tank but the fuel did not ignite it. It would leak out though. I expected Jupiter to return fire, but for some reason he didn't. Maybe he was conserving ammo.

"He'll have to land now, sir," my pilot said.

"Let's hope so."

The pilot was right. In a minute, Jupiter's 'copter started down toward a small village below. We followed. They landed in a field on the outskirts of the village beside a commercial building that turned out to be a motorcycle garage.

"Set us down," I told my pilot. "But don't give him a good shot at us — he's an expert."

Jupiter's 'copter was down and he was climbing out. We set down about sixty yards away. I was reloading the Luger, but my pilot cut the engine and jumped to the ground impatiently.

"Keep down!" I yelled at him.

But it was too late. Jupiter fired and hit him in the chest, twisting him violently off his feet. By the time I reached the ground, Jupiter was heading toward a half-dozen motocycles sitting outside the garage. I examined the pilot's wound; it was bad but he would live if he got help in time. I ordered Heather to stay with him, then jumped to my feet.

I started running in a crouch toward the garage where Jupiter was mounting a cycle. I was so intent on catching up with him I forgot about his chopper pilot until a slug whistled past my ear. I spotted the man then, returned fire with Wilhelmina and hit him. He staggered backward and fell; he didn't get up.

I kept running. Jupiter had started the cycle and was turning it toward the road fronting the place.

I stopped, rested Wilhelmina on my forearm and fired, but Jupiter was roaring off down the road. He was riding a BSA Victor Special 441, with the long narrow seat and the gas tank up between seat and handlebars. I figured it had a top speed of eighty miles an hour.

I moved quickly to a man standing, pale and shaken, just inside the garage. "Police," I said because it was easiest "What do you have here that will beat that Victor?"

He pointed to a big old bike, long and heavy; it was a 1958 Ariel 4G Square Four.

"Take the Squariel," he said. "It's an old timer but it has fifty horsepower, four speeds and will hit almost a hundred."

"Thanks," T said. I moved to the machine and climbed on. I started it with a hard kick. As the engine roared, I shouted to the garage man: "I'll settle later. Get a doctor for my friend in the field. The other one doesn't need help."

He nodded. I gunned the bike and roared away, up the narrow road after Jupiter.

There was a pair of goggles on the handlebars and I put them on, swinging around a shrub-lined curve. I didn't bother to keep to the left but used the whole road. I had to catch Jupiter and I knew he was pushing his bike to the limit.

It was dark now, and I switched on the lights. There was no one ahead of me. Suddenly, a pair of headlights appeared in my rear-view mirror. They swiftly loomed larger, then an MG sedan drew up to me. Behind the driver's seat was Heather. She must have commandeered the car after seeing to the wounded pilot.

I accelerated, trying to keep up with her, but her machine was too powerful for my Ariel. Then, somewhere in the distance I heard the tortured squeal of brakes and a sickening crash. A lump caught in my throat. The crash was too loud for a motorcycle. It had to have been Heather.

I passed her overturned MG up the road just past a curve. It was wrapped halfway around a tree. The wheels were still spinning eerily. I slowed, determined that no one could have survived that crash. Heather, in her less maneuverable vehicle, must have attempted to take the curve at the same speed Jupiter had. Only she hadn't made it.

Blind hatred caused the blood to pound in my ears. Until now, Jupiter had been just another opponent. Now he was something more: Heather's murderer.

I drove for several miles, watching the side road. Just when I was sure Jupiter had given me the slip, I rounded a curve and there he was, not two hundred yards ahead of me. He was running without lights.

He turned and saw me coming up on him. His speed increased somewhat but I was still closing in. He disappeared around a curve and I lost him for several minutes in a series of blind turns. On the next straightaway I found him again, only a hundred yards ahead. He turned and fired wildly at me twice. It was ridiculous at that speed and in the dark. I had closed to fifty yards now.

Suddenly, Jupiter turned into a dirt road to the left, kicking up a long cloud of dust in the darkness. I managed to stop the Ariel just in time, skidding its rear end around as I roared down the road after Jupiter.

A half mile and we crossed a small arched wooden bridge. Our momentum lifted the bikes into the air on the far side of the bridge and dropped us back down hard. Jupiter almost lost control when he hit, his bike weaving wildly. The Ariel was heavier and I held it better. A couple of hundred yards later, we crossed the same stream by a natural ford, splashing through the shallow water and sending it up in sheets on both sides of the bikes. There was a steep hill-climb on the far side of soft sand. My Ariel squirmed around in the soft stuff for a moment, then broke free.

On the other side of the hill, Jupiter made a sharp left turn and headed out into open country. I followed, hoping the Ariel wasn't too big for the job. Jupiter gained some ground on me over the next couple of miles, bumping wildly over hillocks, into ruts and dodging small trees. Then we topped a low rise and suddenly I knew where we were. Before us on a flat plain, only a few hundred yards away, stood an eerie circle of towering flat stones, dark and massive against the lighter sky. We were riding toward the ancient archaeological site of Stonehenge, either by accident or by Jupiter's design.

Whichever it was, it was clear that Jupiter intended to make his stand here. He had already reached the spot and as I closed the distance to a hundred yards, he dismounted and let his cycle drop. Then he moved quickly toward the ancient ceremonial ruin.

I stopped my cycle and turned the engine off. I got off and stood facing the forbidding ruin warily. Stonehenge was an ancient pre-Druid temple, erected for worship of the sun and moon, geared in its design to measure the movements of the heavenly bodies. What was left of it was actually a circle of massive cut stones set inside a circle of similar stones, plus a few outlying markers. Some of the stones were in pairs with a third lying across the tops to form a primitive arch or lintel. The sun and moon rose and set through those arches on particular days of the year converting the temple into a gigantic sidereal clock. But none of that interested me at the moment because there was a madman hidden here now, intent on killing me.

I moved slowly toward that ring of giant stones, watching the shadows. The sky was clear but the moon was not up yet so there was little light. The night was completely silent.

I moved to an isolated stone and stopped, searching the darkness. Then Jupiter's voice came from somewhere in the shadows, ahead of me.

"Now, Mr. Carter, you're playing on my home court," he said. "Being an American, I suppose you're not overly familiar with Stonehenge. You're standing by the ancient Slaughter Stone. Isn't that appropriate?" A shot whined off the rock inches from my head.

I ducked down and saw Jupiter's figure leave the cover of a massive stone and run to another. I fired twice and hit nothing. I moved to another set of stone and stopped to listen. I heard Jupiter's unnerving, quiet laughter:

"It's a fascinating place, Mr. Carter. Did you know, for instance, that it's just thirteen steps between the trilithons on this side of the circle?" The shadow moved again and Jupiter took running steps to the next bulky silhouette. Again I fired after him and again I missed. The light simply wasn't good enough.