Assault on England (7 page)

"Nothing," Novosty sneered. "Just a man who did jobs for us now and then in the Mid-East. Our people there asked me to find out about your dealings with him. Now, about the comrades at Land's End. Are they dead?"

"They're dead," I said.

"And they told you nothing?"

"Nothing. I overheard you talking through the window, though, before your Russian friend spotted me. About the Defence Ministry."

Novosty's face went blank. "I see."

I was thinking as I talked. They had not removed my jacket and, when Koval frisked me, he had not found Hugo. But I couldn't use the stiletto as long as my hands were tied behind my back.

"I understand you plan to execute your mission as your man leaves the building." I watched Novosty's face; it remained expressionless.

"What exactly is our mission?"

I hesitated, watching him and Marsh; I wanted to see both their reactions to what I was about to say. "Why, to assassinate a third British government official," I said, "in accordance with your overall plan."

Novosty's eyes narrowed slightly, the only change of expression. But Marsh was a different story His eyebrows went up in surprise and he barked a laugh. Novosty gave him a hard look but Marsh's laugh had told me plenty. At least, he thought the mission he'd been recruited for was something quite different.

"We did not speak of assassination at Land's End," Novosty said. "Are you playing a last hand with me?"

"I didn't actually hear the word," I admitted "But we've known for some time now that this supposed attempt to blackmail the British government is actually a series of planned executions for Russia's benefit. It's a Soviet plot and you were sent here to see it through."

I watched Novosty's face and he watched mine. It was like playing draw poker, except that the stakes were our lives — mine and Heather's — and Britain's security.

"But you do not know who we plan to kill next," Novosty said thoughtfully.

"No, it can be one of several possible targets. We don't know the exact date either but that won't help you much. The game is up, and Russia will soon be exposed." I raised my voice, letting a little emotion slip in. Watching Novosty, I concluded that he believed me. But he wasn't about to deny the charge, not just yet.

"Take him to the bedroom," he told Marsh with no further comment on what I'd told him. "Tie the girl again and lock the shutters on the window. Then bring Koval back out with you."

Marsh took me into the bedroom where Koval was watching Heather. The Russian had found Heather's purse, I noticed, which was a disappointment. They locked the window and tied Heather's hands behind her. As Marsh left the room, he punched a big fist into my stomach. I grunted and doubled over, going to my knees. Marsh laughed and followed Koval out of the room. The door closed behind them.

I couldn't breath for a long, agonizing moment. Heather knelt awkwardly beside me. "Are you all right?" she asked anxiously.

I could talk now but my breath came hard "I'm going to get that bastard," I muttered.

"What did you say to Novosty?" Heather asked.

"I told him the truth."

"What happened? Is he the assassin?"

"Novosty told me nothing," I said. "He's a very good poker player But Marsh told me plenty — without saying a word."

Her lovely blue eyes searched my face.

"Either Novosty has nothing to do with the assassination plot," I said, "or Marsh thinks he doesn't, which is possible, of course. It wouldn't be the first time a hired agent was kept in the dark about the real nature of a mission»

"True." Heather nodded.

"But somehow I really don't think Novosty has anything to do with the assassination plot."

"Will he kill us now?" she asked quietly.

There was no point in lying to her.

"Well, even if we are on the wrong trail, it seems that he has to. We know that he's up to something and that it involves the Defence Ministry."

"I suppose that's what they're doing out there right now," Heather said, "plotting our unpleasant demise."

I moved my wrists against the ropes binding them. The knot was very tight, too tight to work loose. I looked at the shuttered window. "They'll probably wait until dark," I said.

"They wouldn't want to disturb the village," Heather agreed wryly.

I sat there, twisting the rope binding my wrists and wondering what the hell I could do. Besides Hugo the stiletto, I had Pierre, the cyanide bomb, attached to my thigh and my belt and buckle held plastic explosive and a miniature dart blowgun — all gifts from the imaginative men in Axe's Special Effects and Editing. But Hugo was the only weapon that could free our wrists.

I flexed my right forearm and the stiletto was released from its sheath. But it did not slip into my palm as usual; its route was obstructed by the rope around my wrists. I turned my back to Heather.

"Can you get your hands up to my wrists?" I asked.

She glanced at me and turned her back to mine. "I don't know. But even if I can, I won't be able to undo the ropes."

"I know. But look at my right inner wrist. You'll see the tip of a knife there."

Heather looked and saw. "Why, Nick, you have the nicest surprises!"

I grinned at her and turned further so she could reach the point of the stiletto. I could feel her working at it "Pull it in an even, slow movement," I said, "moving it outward and past the ropes."

She did and in another moment the stiletto slid past the ropes and clattered to the floor. We glanced anxiously toward the door, but the discussion in the next room continued without interruption.

"Pick up the knife," I said. Heather bent down and awkwardly retrieved it. "Grab it firmly by the handle and back up to me again."

Heather followed orders. "Cut at the rope," I said. "And it would be nice if you got more rope than flesh."

I felt the blade slide past my palm to the rope and then Heather was slicing at the knot. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I felt the rope giving. With one last firm stroke Heather cut through And just in time; the voices in the next room were suddenly still.

I pulled my wrists free and turned quickly to Heather. Taking Hugo, I slashed once at the ropes binding her wrists, severing them Just then we heard a sound at the door.

"Stay put," I whispered.

Heather sat on the bed as if she were still bound. I stood up, holding my hands behind me, as the door opened. It was Koval.

"Well," he said, grinning at us. "I see you are still here."

"Are you going to let us go, now that we've told you what we know?" I said. He had left the» door partly open and I could see Novosty and Marsh talking together in the next room. Marsh looked eagerly expectant.

"We will see about that," Koval answered me blandly. "For now, we must take you to another place, yes? Where you will be safer."

He moved past Heather to me I knew where they were taking us. To some quiet country lane where they would use a silencer or knife He took my arm "Come, we must make a blindfold for both of you. Into the other room, please."

Heather had gotten up from the bed. I watched her come up behind Koval, clasp her hands together and swing at the back of his neck.

The Russian grunted and fell against me. I held him steady with one hand, smashed my other fist into his face. He yelled and crashed to the floor. I chopped him behind the ear for good measure as he went down. The stiletto was in my belt, but I hadn't had to use it.

"Get his gun!" I told Heather.

I moved up beside the door just as Novosty came running through, his automatic ready. He saw Heather bending over Koval and aimed the gun at her. I brought my hand down hard on his wrist. The gun flew from his grasp and hit the floor, spinning across its polished surface.

I grabbed Novosty's gun hand before the tall Russian could recover and threw him across the room.

Heather was still trying to find Koval's gun. I spotted Novosty's automatic over by the bed and dived for it. I landed beside it and grabbed for the butt. But before I could bring the gun up, Novosty was back on his feet and throwing himself at me. He was a slim, wiry man with plenty of muscle on his lean frame. He hit me hard, trying to wrench the automatic from my grasp. We rolled twice across the floor toward the closed window, Novosty straining for the gun.

I threw a right fist to his head and he hit the floor. Heather had come up with Koval's pistol now, just as Marsh charged into the room. He must have been delayed getting his gun, a Mauser 7.75 Parbellum automatic that looked a lot like Wilhelmina.

His face dark with anger, Marsh rushed into the room, firing and cursing. His shot was intended for Heather, but the aim was bad; the bullet missed her head by six inches. She returned fire, hitting Marsh twice in rapid succession, in the chest and in the neck.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Novosty struggle to his feet again and make for the door. Still on the floor, I made a grab for his leg. He kicked out at me viciously. I tried to duck but still the foot connected with the side of my head. I lost my grip on the ankle, and before I could make another grab for him, Novosty was out of the room and heading for the front door.

I looked around quickly. Koval wasn't moving and Marsh lay on his back, groaning, fighting death with every shallow breath.

"Tie him up," I told Heather, indicating Koval. "I'm going after Novosty."

There wasn't time to look for Wilhelmina. Novosty had headed for the black sedan, changed his mind when he realized he didn't have the key and started toward the village main street on the run. By the time I took after him he already had a hundred yards or so on me.

We ran for several blocks and then he disappeared around a corner. When I rounded the corner after him, I saw him starting a small gray Simca whose owner must have left the keys in the ignition. I ran faster, but Novosty pulled away before I could reach the car.

I looked around and got my bearings. Heather had left the keys under the dash of the S.O.C.E.M.A. Gregoire, but where the hell was the thing? I ran to the next corner and looked to my right. Yes, there it was!

I was behind the wheel in a moment and had
the
key in the ignition, followed by the astonished look of a village woman carrying a string bag of groceries. I turned back out into the main street, as I'd seen Novosty do, shifting up as I went, and saw the Simca several hundred yards ahead of me, heading out of town.

By the time Novosty reached open country, on a winding narrow road, I had closed to a hundred yards and was gaining fast. The shrubbery that lined the road stood well above the height of the cars so whenever Novosty disappeared around a curve, he was out of sight until we hit the straightaway again.

He was skidding crazily around every curve. My sports car was cornering beautifully and soon I was right on him. He had seen me and when I tried to pass him, to force him over, he pulled out to stop me. He managed this on several curves until he met a slow-moving horse-drawn wagon coming from the other direction.

Novosty wheeled the Simca to the right. It skidded and came back to the left, catching the back corner of the wagon which was loaded with bales of hay. The wagon tipped toward the ditch, then swayed back and tipped part of its contents into the road in front of me. I drove on through it with hay scattering in all directions and my view momentarily obscured.

When I came out of the hay cloud I was right on top of the Simca. I tried to come up alongside but Novosty pulled over in front of me. I yanked my wheel hard right and Novosty followed, as I thought he would, then I pulled hard to the left and shifted down. The S.O.C.E.M.A-Gregoire leaped ahead as my foot went down on the accelerator and moved up beside the Simca before Novosty could pull back over.

Novosty jerked hard on the wheel, crashed the Simca into the right side of the sports car, the driver's side. I retaliated by slamming the sports car back against the Simca, edging Novosty toward the berm of the road. He almost lost control but recovered quickly, jumped momentarily ahead of me.

We tore around another curve, oblivious to what might be coming from the other direction. I pulled even with Novosty again, but before I could make my move, he slammed his Simca into my side.

Now it was my turn to lose control. The wheel jerked from my grasp and in the next instant the sports car rocketed off the road into a large open meadow. I saw Novosty's car careering crazily toward the opposite berm and a twenty-foot drop-off to a rocky field, then I was hurtling through the air, the car beginning a roll before it hit.

I saw a flash of sky and then of brown earth. There was a jarring crash and the door on my side popped open and I was thrown out. I hit the ground, rolled twice and lay there stunned. The car kept on rolling and ended up, against a towering boulder.

I sat up slowly, moving gingerly. I ached, but there appeared to be no broken bones. Then I heard the explosion from across the road. I struggled to my feet. I had to save Novosty — if he could still be saved.

I stumbled up to the road and saw the Russian had gone over. Black smoke was spiraling up from below. I moved to the edge of the berm and looked down. The Simca was wrapped in flame. I could see Novosty, unconscious or dead, inside. I was too late; I couldn't possibly get to him.

I stood there watching the Simca burn and couldn't help wondering when my day would come and some Russian or Chicom agent would witness my death. No agent lived forever; most didn't even make it to old age. That was why Hawk always said when we parted, "So long, Nick. Good luck. I'll see you when I see you." Which might be never.

I heard a car engine and turned just as a small white Lancia pulled over a few yards behind me. Heather jumped out and ran over to me. A bewildered Englishman crawled out of the other door of the car and stood staring wide-eyed at the burning Simca.