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the stolen Sea Harrier could be airborne, by using the vertical take-off
technique, within five minutes of an order being received.
Baradj took one more look, then put the glasses in their case, turned
and began to walk quietly back to The Rock Hotel. Earlier he had looked
down on the airport to make certain his private helicopter had arrived
safely. The pilot was to stay with the craft and Baradj knew it would
take part in the final piece of his plan - the recovery of the huge
ransom he expected to pick up from the sea. Of course the pilot had no
idea that he was doomed,just as all members of his brainchild, BAST,
were doomed, to the extent that they would have done the dangerous and
difficult work with no reward. Twenty-four, maybe forty-eight hours,
Baradj smiled, after that he would have a veritable king's ransom.
He would also have disappeared from the face of the earth. He actually
laughed out loud, thinking of the fanatics who would have given their
souls for an opportunity like this, and how they would have wasted the
money on guns and bombs, bringing more danger to their lives. He,
Bassam Baradj - or to be truthful, Robert Besavitsky would use it for a
really decent purpose: his own pleasure and security. Not yet, but in a
year or so, he would emerge, with a new face and identity. He would own
houses, estates, cars, yachts, private jets, companies which might even
do some good for the world. He would make gifts: a new library here, or
a museum there; maybe even scholarships. Yes, that was a new idea. Some
good things must come out of the great crock of gold that waited for
him. This would only be fair.
The sun shone and Baradj was happy. The sun was set fair for Gibraltar,
though the weather report for the rest of the Spanish coast was not so
good. Never mind, it would be good enough to do what needed to be done.
"I, for one, Sir John, do not care about what has happened. This is a
unique meeting, and we do need a clear four days to complete our talks.
Do I have to make it plain again? Four . . . clear .
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days. That is what was arranged, and that is what we all expect."
The Prime Minister looked towards the President of the United States and
Secretary Gorbachev. An interpreter whispered the translation in
Gorbachev's ear. He nodded gravely, the birthmark on his forehead
coming into view as the head bobbed and he repeated, "Da .
. . Da . . .
"Prime Minister," George Bush spoke quietly. "I understand the problem,
and I see you're anxious because we are your guests. I agree wholly
with you. We should stay aboard, we've lost almost one hour already.
But I'd like to hear the options again."
Sir John Walmsley gave a tiny sigh and nudged James Bond, who stood
beside him. "I think Captain Bond should give you a little rundown," he
said, his voice that of a desperate man. "He is in complete control of
your security, so he, as it were, carries the can."
"Oh yes?" Bond thought before he spoke. "I think Sir John's explained
it very clearly." He kept his voice deliberately low, and slow enough
for the translator to do his work for Chairman Gorbachev.
"This morning, one of the main turbines which drive this ship, had a
serious malfunction. One man, a Petty Officer, was killed and there was
no further damage. The turbine has been inspected and, so far, there
are no signs of sabotage. One thing is clear, though - we should not
attempt to make Gibraltar without getting the turbine running again.
Also, because the other turbines were produced at the same time as the
one which blew, it is essential that they have a complete overhaul. This
will take several days." He paused to let all this sink in, and Mrs.
Thatcher showed slight annoyance, looking at him as if to say, "Get on
with it, man."
"There is a US Naval Base, near Cadiz, and within a few hours' sailing
time from here, but there are problems about this place "You're talking
about Rota?" the PM asked.
"Precisely, Prime Minister. Until a few years ago Rota was a base for [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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