Exocet (v5) by Jack Higgins

helped them considerably already, to a degree extremely dangerous for a man in your position. Why did you take such a risk?'
    'Because I didn't think the arms embargo was right. The government was wrong. We shouldn't have taken sides.'
    'But you have done so. Why?'
    Bernard shrugged. 'I don't like the English.'
    'Not good enough.'
    'Not good enough?' Bernard's voice rose angrily so that Stavrou turned from the rail, watchful. 'Let me tell you about the English. In 1940, they ran. Left us to the Germans. When the Boche came to our village, my father and a few others tried to put up a fight. A handful of farmers with First World War rifles. They shot them in the square. My mother and most of the other women, they took into the village hall to make sport for the soldiers. I was ten years old. A long time ago, but I can still hear the screaming.' He spat over the side. 'So don't try to tell me about the English.'
    Donner couldn't have been more delighted. 'Terrible,' he said. 'I understand perfectly.'
    'But you,' Bernard said. 'You are English yourself. I don't understand.'
    'Australian,' Donner said. 'A large difference. Also a citizen of the world and a business man, so let's get down to business. Tell me about Ile de Roc.'
    'Ile de Roc?' Bernard looked bewildered.
    'They're testing the latest Exocet there, aren't they? You told Garcia about that. It's in your notes.'
    'Yes, of course. It's an island. A damn great rock really, about fifteen miles off the Brittany coast, south from St Nazaire. If you look out to sea, all there is is the Atlantic and then Newfoundland.'
    'How many people there?'
    'No more than thirty-five. A mixture of Aerospatiale technicians and army personnel from missile regiments. In fact, it's officially a military installation.'
    'You've been there?'
    'Certainly. On a number of occasions.'
    'And how does one get to the island? By air?'
    'Oh, no, impossible. Nowhere to land. Mind you, that's not quite true. The Army Air Corps managed to land light aircraft on one of the beaches when the tide was out. But it wasn't a practical proposition. Even helicopters find it difficult because of the down-draughts from the cliffs. The weather is frequently terrible, but of course the isolation of the place was a necessary factor. Usually, the link with the mainland is by boat. The fishing port of St Martin.'
    Donner nodded. 'Say I needed to know what was going on at Ile de Roc, for example during the next week or ten days. Could you find out? Are your contacts still good?'
    'Excellent,' Bernard said. 'I think I can guarantee to obtain any information you require and at the shortest notice.'
    Donner refilled his glass. 'This Sancerre is really very fine.' He looked at Stavrou. 'I think we'll have another bottle.' He lit a cigarette, leaned back in his chair and said to Bernard, 'Okay, fill me in on the island. For example, tell me in detail about your last trip there.'
    * * *
    Wanda Brown was a graceful girl, the soft contours of whose body were accentuated by her white silk blouse and black velvet skirt, but she was still small in spite of the high-heeled shoes. Her hair was black, she had wide, almond-shaped eyes and a small, corrupt mouth. Her appearance was one of extreme elegance, for she had learned the hard way, Donner's cardinal rule, that less is always better.
    She was one quarter negro, which showed in her skin, and, when she opened her mouth, her London East End origin was plain.
    Donner had picked her off a Soho Street one night, where her current boyfriend had been attempting rather forcibly to introduce her into a life of prostitution. Stavrou had left him in a doorway with two ribs and his left arm broken and Wanda had found herself plunged headlong into a world of luxury and delight.
    She had been all of sixteen, but then Donner had always liked his women young. Her one fear was that he might discard her now that she had reached the magic age of twenty, an appalling prospect in view of the fact that she