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to the submarine?"
"I think the crew must have been eating too much Indian food." Bond did not
even smile. He was bracing himself against the wheelhouse and sliding a new
magazine into the butt of the ASP 9mm converted Browning.
They were rounding the headland now, where the walls of the lowest part of El
Morro reach down toward the rocks. "How near do you want to get?" Rexinus
shouted.
"As near as you can manage. I've got to make it to those grassy slopes on the
other side of the rocks."
"Don't think I'll quite be able to get you right in."
"I'll get over the rocks myself. Just bring her in as close as you can."
Fritz and Vesta Motley were speechless, soaking wet and white with fear. Then
the bullets came, smashing into the woodwork on the deck as an automatic
weapon opened up from the lower wall of El Morro.
"Far enough!" Bond yelled. "Get down. I'm going over the side." He saw the
surf and the rocks coming up to meet him, climbed over the guardrail, and, as
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the boat dipped on the turn, dropped into the white foam.
It was luck rather than skill that got him over the jagged rocks. As he went
into the water the tide was pulling back, gathering itself for another journey
inland to slap into the shore. He was able to put his arms around one of the
larger, slippery boulders and ride out the crashing waves until the sea drew
back again, allowing him to move in over the old sea-worn stones. Halfway and
he found another point between two rocks, where he hung on as the sea vented
its force on him. The tide sucked back again, and on the third attempt, he
made it over the final barrier and onto the rough grass above.
As he lay on all fours, winded and gasping for breath, a figure rose from the
ground in front of him and snapped, "Who goes?"
25 - Ride of the Valkyrie
He stayed exactly where he was, but absolutely still. "Bond," he said.
"Captain James Bond, Royal Navy."
"Thank heaven it's you, boss. Dodd. Jim Dodd. Captain 22nd SAS. We've been
waiting half the night for you." He put one arm under Bond's right armpit and
helped him up. "The other lads are just up here. The bad boys've got automatic
weapons in the fort, but I think we can deal with them without too much
bother. You up to a little flight, boss?"
"Yes, Jim. Just let me get my breath back. You brought the Powerchute?"
"Five of them, chief. Four for us and one for you. Got some other surprises as
well. Decent chaps, those Delta Force lads. Letting us have first crack. Old
Tarn and his people  there's three of them altogether  were up there on the
lowest emplacement of this amazing fortress, but I think they've moved up to
the top now. Delta Force said they'd keep an eye on the other two sides. If we
don't finish them, they will. Very decent." He spoke in a whisper, and Bond
was breathing more normally now as they reached the towering old walls, from
which another figure seemed to detach itself.
"That you, boss?"
"Yes, and I've found Captain Bond for us, so we're all set."
"Good, they were shooting at that boat."
"I know," Bond grunted. "I was aboard."
"The explosion?" Dodd asked. "That you as well? Submarine bought it?"
"Yes."
"Too much curry again?"
"I've already done that joke." He stopped as the remaining three SAS men
crowded around. "Actually a little too much plastique. I sort of
overindulged."
Dodd motioned for silence. "Easy mistake to make, sir. Let's show you what
we've got," he said brightly.
They moved in close to the wall. There, hardly visible, were the five
Powerchutes, the actual parachutes made of matte-black material. "You have
flown one of these, boss?"
"Yes. At the same place you learned, Jim."
"Only wanted to make certain, because we've added a couple of little
refinements." He shone a flashlight, which gave out diffused light, onto the
framework. "Landing light, for starters. Usual halogen job, mounted up front
under the forward strut." He lifted the tubing to show a wide, light aircraft
landing light. "Operated from this little panel over on the right, just behind
the throttle; there's a compass up there as well, and a panel on the left for
goodies. Flash-bangs here, three of them. Abreast of the flash-bangs we have
smoke  you're familiar, yes?"
"Very familiar." He leaned down and touched the little smoke bombs.
Dodd hardly paused. "Then in the forward section we have flares." He lifted
out one of the seven-inch-long silver cylinders. "Nice flares, because they
double as incendiary rounds, if you follow. Just point and pull the little
ring. Like opening a can of beer."
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"I'm glad to say I've never opened a can of beer, but I follow very well, old
boy. How many of those do we carry?"
"Only four, I fear. Particularly if you need somewhere to mount the old
Heckler and Koch."
"I'll sit that one out, if you don't mind. Stick to the pistol. Done me quite
well over the years, though they aren't making this model anymore."
"A man's favorite weapon is the one he'll do most damage with. Ginger here's
got a twelve-gauge shotgun." He indicated one of the SAS Troopers. "Wonderful
with it. Bring down a budgerigar at twenty paces and a man at twenty yards, on
the wing  I mean Ginger would be on the wing.
"Now, communications. Headset with a throat mike. The whole thing's
self-contained: radio in the right side of the headphones. Just talk and
listen. Okay?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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