Fiona flung open the door and led the way inside. The bar was quite empty, a small fire burning in the grate. The still-ness was so complete that Anne could hear her heart pound-ing.
Hamish Grant leaned against a table, struggling for breath, and she called out: “Owen! Owen Morgan! Where are you?”
There was no footfall and yet a quiet voice said with start-ling suddenness from behind her, “He isn’t here.”
Anne turned quickly and looked into the calm face of Juliette Vincente. “For God’s sake, Juliette. Where is he? What’s going on?”
“I think that perhaps you have come to the wrong place, madame.” Juliette’s hand came out of her pocket, holding the pistol. “And now we will all wait quietly for the Comte de Beaumont.”
In the same moment Jagbir drove forward, the terrible Gurkha battle-cry bursting from his throat. His hand swung from under his coat, the razor-sharp blade of thekukri hiss-ing softly through space.
Juliette Vincente pulled the trigger twice, bullets smash-ing into the little Gurkha’s body, and then he was on top of her. As she fired again at close quarters the heavy blade swung down, half severing her neck. They fell together, Jagbir on top, thekukri as firmly clenched in his right hand in death as it had been in life.
As Fiona screamed, the door swung open. Hamish Grant turned, pulling the Webley from his pocket, thrusting it towards the dark formless shadow against the light that was de Beaumont.
Behind him the window shattered and the barrel of a rifle was rammed painfully into his back. “If the General is wise he will drop it,” Marcel said.
Hamish Grant stood there, trapped in the moment of de-cision, and already it was too late. De Beaumont moved for-ward and pulled the Webley gently from his grasp.
“And now, old friend, perhaps you will be sensible?”
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
THEFLEUR DE LYS
Fleur de Lysrolled her slim length into the wind, plung-ing over a wave as water broke across her prow. In the wheelhouse Mallory leaned over the chart table. Behind him the wheel clicked to one side eerily to compensate as the vessel veered to starboard, the automatic pilot in con-trol.
The Admiralty charts he had found in the flat drawers underneath the table were very comprehensive. The one which covered the Pointe du Chateau coastline and the Gironde Marshes told him everything he needed to know.
The door of the saloon companionway swung open and Guyon appeared. He wore a yellow oilskin jacket and car-ried a large mug of coffee in each hand.
“How are we doing?”
Mallory checked his watch. “Almost noon. Not long now. We’re doing about fifteen knots.”
“I heard the weather forecast on the radio in the galley just before I came up,” Guyon said. “It wasn’t good. Winds increasing and fog indicated in the coastal area.”
“We’re running into it already.”
Mallory drank some of his coffee and Guyon peered through the window. In the distance the fog waited like a damp shroud and heavy grey skies dropped towards the sea. Already the waves were lifting into whitecaps in the north-west.
“How far would you say we’re behindL’Alouette now?” Guyon said.
Mallory shrugged. “Submerged, she only has half ourspeed. Allowing for the start she had, it’s going to run things a little close.”
He leaned over the chart again. “She’ll have to surface inshore of lie de Yeu before moving into the main creek flowing out of the marshes.”
“What depth is it there?”
Mallory traced its course with a pencil. “Four or five fathoms.Strong tidal currents constantly changing. Not to be relied on. I know whatthat means. One day there’s a sandbank. The next, six fathoms of clear water. These tidal marshes are all the same.”
“But we could get in withFleur de Lys?”
“I think so. Probably not as far as the central island where the cottage is. It’s marked on the chart. Half a mile in.”
Guyon straightened and the inimitable wry grin twisted his mouth. “Things might get interesting, eh?”
“I think you could say that.”
Gradually the mist enfolded them until they were running through a strange, enclosed world and Mallory took over the wheel and reduced speed to ten knots. About thirty minutes later they emerged into a patch of clear water and saw the coastline of Pointe du Chateau no more than half a mile to port.