A Woman Involved Page 6

  Morgan felt a stab of fear for her. But he could hardly believe all this. Carrington said, ‘As regards your freighter, she’ll sail on schedule, with a captain provided by us. While officially you are on a hiking holiday in Scotland.’

  Morgan felt feverish. For Anna’s safety. He looked at them, bemused. The civil service faces he once upon a time thought were incorruptible.

  He took a deep breath. Then he held a shaky finger out at them.

  ‘Now let me make one thing abundantly clear.’ He glared. ‘I’m going on this operation for her sake – not for Queen and so-called Country!’ He shook his finger once. ‘And after I get her off that island, if you so much as lay a finger upon her …’ He raised his eyebrows: ‘I’ll blow this story sky-high. Do you understand that? Blow Queen and Country and Margaret Thatcher …’

  Part Three

  9

  In the middle of that rainy night several groups of SEALs landed on the north-eastern shores of Grenada from their rubber boats, to reconnoitre landing beaches for the assault at dawn. They radioed back to their ships that there were many dangerous coral reefs and the old grass airport of Pearls was heavily defended by the People’s Revolutionary Army and Cubans. At the same time a Specter helicopter gunship was flying high over the new airport at Point Salines, where the US Rangers would land, and the report they radioed back was worse: the runway was blocked with vehicles, construction equipment and metal spikes.

  At the same time, two more parties of SEALs were approaching the western shore of the island, near the capital of Saint George’s, in their raiding boats, twenty-two men counting Jack Morgan. They ran up the beach for the blackness of the palms. Eight of them started along the dark treeline towards the big house of Max Hapsburg on the point of the bay.

  There were no lights burning. There was a double garage, both doors open, one car visible inside. The big house was surrounded by trees and shrubs and lawns. The front door was ajar.

  Morgan crouched in the rain beside the commander, his heart knocking. Two SEALs broke cover and ran at the door, and flung themselves on either side of it. Then they burst inside and disappeared.

  Morgan waited. He could still hardly believe he was here. Then a light snapped on in the hall. A figure reappeared, and signalled. Morgan and the commander ran for the door

  ‘Empty. But there’s signs of a fight.’

  Morgan looked around feverishly. The rugs in the hall were bunched, and a chair was knocked over. He crouched and examined the marble floor for blood. He saw none. ‘Come upstairs,’ the SEAL said.

  Morgan followed him, bounding up the wide staircase. The rugs on the landing were also bunched. They strode down the corridor. Into a bedroom.

  It was obviously hers. It was the first time he had seen it, of course, and it was unreal that he was standing in it now. A big double bed, elegant furniture. There was another bedroom leading off this one, with another double bed. There were two dressing rooms. There was the sound of running water, coming from a bathroom. A wall safe stood agape; it was empty. Some wardrobe doors stood open. Morgan strode into the next bedroom. A drawer from a bedside table lay on the floor. He strode for the bathroom.

  The shower was beating down into the tub. Why? He felt the water: cold. A towel lay in one corner, a stool had been kicked over. He crouched and examined the tiled floor, looking for blood. There was none. He stood up. Then he saw it.

  His heart missed a beat, and he feverishly crouched and examined it. It was on one corner of the bathtub: one small smear of blood. He strode out of the room.

  He ran down the staircase, back to the hall. ‘Definitely nobody in the house?’

  ‘Nor in the gardens. No new graves either, as far as we can see in this light.’

  ‘Then let’s get the hell on to Government House.’

  The dark rain wept down.

  Government House stands on a hill, overlooking the old harbour of Saint George’s. Nearby is Fort Ruppert, headquarters of the People’s Revolutionary Army. Government House is an old colonial building, set in gardens, with a big iron gate bearing the royal coat of arms. Surrounding the walls were the soldiers of the People’s Revolutionary Army, holding the people inside hostage.

  At dawn the Marines landed at the old Pearls airport in the north, midst teaming rain and anti-aircraft fire; at the same time the Rangers flew in from Florida over New airport midst even heavier anti-aircraft fire; at dawn a party of SEALs attacked the Radio Free Grenada station. At dawn the twenty-one SEALs and Jack Morgan stormed Government House.

  They came fighting up the streets towards the hilltop, midst the clatter of guns and the stink of cordite, and they stormed the perimeter of Government House.

  Morgan frantically threw himself at the wall midst the cacophony of gunfire, swung his leg up, and rolled over the top. He landed with a crash in a flowerbed. He scrambled up and crouched there, rasping, thanking God, getting his breath. Over the wall came the others. They ran off in different directions to cover different aspects of the house; the commander rasped ‘Go’ and Morgan ran.

  He ran flat out across the lawn, for the kitchen. The commander flung himself at the door handle. It was locked. He stepped backwards and kicked, and the door crashed in. They burst through the door together.

  ‘Freeze! – US soldiers! – Freeze!’

  The dark kitchen was empty. The commander bounded for the door to the corridor, stood flat against the wall. Morgan crouched, dry-mouthed. The commander shouted:

  ‘Freeze! – We’re US soldiers! – Freeze!’

  Nothing. Only the crack and thud of gunfire out there. The commander burst through the door. He ran up the corridor, to the hall.

  It was empty. He looked into the dining room. There was nobody. Morgan came running up the corridor. The commander bounded up to the living room door, and flung it open.

  ‘Freeze! US soldiers! – ’

  There was a mass of shocked faces, black and white, people on the floor. There was a moment’s silence; then an elderly black man got to his feet shakily.

  ‘Praise the Lord …’ he said.

  ‘Are you the Governor, sir?’

  The black man nodded his head. ‘I am, Paul Scoon …’

  Morgan’s eyes were sweeping every face in the darkened room. He rasped, ‘Is Mrs Anna Hapsburg in the house?’

  The Governor was saying to the commander, ‘Our radio was shot out –’

  ‘Anna Hapsburg! Is she in the house?’

  ‘Oh,’ the Governor said distractedly – ‘She must be upstairs …’

  Morgan’s heart turned over. He turned and hurried out of the room. He bounded up the stairs.

  The thud of gunfire was muffled. Morgan strode down the upstairs passage, looking into each room. They were all empty, the curtains drawn, mattresses on the floor. His mouth was dry. He came to the last room.

  ‘Anna?’ He twisted the door handle.

  The door moved, then it was stopped by an armchair.

  ‘Anna?’ He shoved. The armchair slid.

  The room was in half-darkness.

  He looked in at. A pistol, pointed straight at him. Behind it, a woman crouched, at the end of the bed. He could only see her forehead, and her two white hands.

  His heart was pounding. It was unreal. He lowered his gun.

  ‘Anna? Put the gun down. This is Jack Morgan.’

  She stared incredulously at the blackened face smiling uncertainly at her, her frightened eyes wide, the gun still tremblingly pointing at him. Morgan put his hand to his head, and pulled off his cap.

  ‘It’s Jack.’

  She stared at him, the gun still pointing. Then; slowly, incredulously she straightened up.

  ‘I don’t believe it …’

  Morgan was grinning at her, shaky with relief. ‘Well, it’s me …’

  She put one hand to her head incredulously. But the other still held the gun at him. ‘I don’t believe it …’

  He said: ‘I’ve come to get you out of here. Now p
ut the gun down.’

  She slowly lowered the gun, staring. Shakily he stepped around the armchair, a smile all over his face. He stepped over the mattress towards her. She stood there, astonished, gaunt. Then she dropped the gun, and closed her eyes.

  10

  In the north the guns and mortars stuttered and thudded as the marines fought it out at old Pearls airport. In the south the Cuban anti-aircraft fire was so heavy, pounding the sky, that the commander of the Rangers aborted the first jump, but he knew from photographs that the positioning of the guns was such that they could not be lowered to hit a target under six hundred feet, so he brought his men in at five hundred. They hit the ground almost immediately after their parachutes opened, and they went running into action, guns blazing against heavy Cuban rifle fire. Over near Grand Anse beach the SEALs fought their way into the Radio Free Grenada broadcasting station, and the other party of SEALs attacked Richmond Hill Prison, supported by helicopter gunships. At strategic points within Government House the SEALs waited, ready to blast the heads off anybody who tried to breach the walls.

  In the bedroom, Morgan sat on the mattress with Anna Hapsburg. There was nothing he could do about the war raging out there, there was nothing he wanted to do but sit here with her and just thank God she was safe, that the might of the entire United States was out there fighting their battles for them. He was still shaky at seeing her, and, oh, he just wanted to take her in his arms; but there was nothing like that in the air. She was a very different woman from the one he had seen a year ago. She was thinner, her long legs seemed longer, her shoulders more angular, her smoky blue eyes bigger, and there was no sparkle in them. She said grimly:

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t believe you, Jack. It’s just too much of a coincidence.’ She looked at him: ‘They sent you to get me, didn’t they?’

  ‘They?’ And he felt like laughing, he was so happy.

  She said, ‘The Americans, obviously. You’re here with the American army.’ She shook her head at him. ‘After what Max did to you, you disappear off the face of the earth. Suddenly Max is killed in a coup, and you reappear in an American invasion, like a knight in shining armour. They sent you, didn’t they? Because they know we were lovers once.’

  Oh God, he wanted to tell her the truth, he didn’t owe a damn thing to the Royal bloody Navy – but he did not want to turn her against himself.

  He said: ‘Look, once you’ve been in the Navy you’re never really free of them, they’ll call you up in emergencies. And this was an emergency. The Americans needed local knowledge of Grenada. They didn’t even have up-to-date plans of the island – they came in with tourist maps. So they called on the British, because this used to be a British colony. And so the Navy pulled me out of retirement. But my only job was to brief them on the features of the island, especially around Government House, because we knew civilians were under siege here.’ He smiled and shook his head. ‘I didn’t know you were in this house until I asked the Governor.’

  She said: ‘So the British sent you? To find me?’

  ‘I told them I was going to find you. Come hell or high water.’

  ‘But how can you tell the British anything?’

  He said: ‘They needed me. They had to agree. Told me to be careful. No heroics. This is America’s war.’

  She didn’t believe him. ‘I hope they’re paying you well. They didn’t tell you to question me?’

  And oh God he wanted to tell her the truth and be done with this! ‘About what, for God’s sake?’

  Her nerves were strung tight. ‘Are the British paying you to find me?’

  ‘Oh Jesus …’ But his anger was with himself and the Royal goddam Navy.

  She closed her exhausted eyes. She put her hand to her brow and massaged. ‘I’m sorry …’

  He wanted to take her in his arms and claim her, tell her he was sorry. She opened her eyes and said:

  ‘The Russians are after me, you see.’

  Brink-Ford had told him, but it was shocking all over again. ‘The Russians? How do you know?’

  She took a trembly breath, and massaged her forehead.

  ‘I know something.’ She shook her head. ‘They think I know something. That Max told me.’

  This was what he was supposed to be here for. ‘What did Max tell you?’

  She sat quite still, controlling her tension.

  ‘He didn’t tell me anything conclusive – he only hinted at it. In a rage.’ He waited. It seemed she was not going to continue. Then: she took another deep breath. ‘Oh God, it became a miserable, cat-and-dog relationship … After your last visit.’ She shook her head again. ‘Oh, he was a good man in so many ways. But … Maybe I’m in shock, maybe I can’t believe that he’s dead … And God knows I don’t wish him dead …’ She breathed, then it came out as a sob: ‘But God knows I also don’t feel any grief either … ’

  He wanted to take her in his arms.

  ‘That’s probably normal, in the circumstances.’

  She sat there, steeped in guilt. And he wanted to squeeze her tight, and squeeze the story out of her, and get it over with. ‘But what is it that Max told you?’

  She shook her head in refusal. ‘He was drunk. He screamed it at me …’

  He waited.

  She lifted her head. And suddenly she looked more under control again. She said:

  ‘I won’t tell you. I won’t tell anybody. Because I don’t believe it, and it can only do tremendous damage.’ She gave a trembly sigh; then said bleakly: ‘But the Russians are after me.’ She jerked her head at the gun on the mattress. ‘That’s why I was hiding up here. When I heard you breaking into the house, I thought you were Russians.’ She paused. Then she said: ‘They tried to kidnap me. And I killed a man.’

  He stared at her. Killed a man?

  He said: ‘Tell me, from the beginning, Anna. Everything.’

  She slumped back against the wall, her elbows on her knees. Her forehead in her hands.

  ‘Then don’t interrupt me. Let me tell it straight.’

  He waited, his nerves stretched.

  She looked at the wall, then said flatly: ‘I was all in favour of Maurice Bishop at first – he looked like he was going to be a new broom that swept the corrupt old government clean. But he turned so hostile to the West. And Moscow got him in their pocket, they were turning Grenada into another Cuba. Max did his best to talk Maurice Bishop out of all this – and persuaded him to patch it up with America. So the hard-line communists turned on Bishop. They placed him under house arrest and they put the whole island under twenty-four-hour curfew. Anybody breaking it was shot on sight.’ She massaged her forehead. Morgan waited. She continued: ‘But a mob of Bishop’s supporters got him out of his house. Somebody telephoned Max and he left home to go there. So I was alone. All our servants had disappeared, because of the curfew. An hour later I got a frantic phone call from the Russian embassy. Telling me that Max and Bishop and some others had been shot by the Revolutionary Army – executed …’

  She closed her eyes. She took a trembly breath. ‘I was absolutely shocked. I … There was no love lost any more between Max and me, but this was terrible …’

  Morgan waited. She massaged her temples.

  ‘Ten minutes later, a car arrives. I had locked myself in the house. It was a white man. He beat on the door, saying he had come to take me to the Russian embassy for my own protection. That’s why I let him in. But I told him I wasn’t going to go.’ She breathed. ‘I don’t trust the Russians. He began to shout.’ She glanced at him. ‘He told me to get all the documents out of Max’s safe and come with him. Now I was really frightened. I told him Max had no safe – I told him to get out. He shouted that I’d better show him where it was or he’d drag me back to the embassy and they’d get it out of me. He shouted, “Tell me the names of the foreign banks where he has safety-deposit boxes!” He tried to grab me and I ran up the stairs. He chased me. I ran into the bedroom …’ She closed her eyes and breathed: ‘I grabbed the gun
Max kept in his bedside drawer … I ran into the bathroom. But he was right behind me. He shoved the door open and I staggered backwards. He lunged at me …’

  Morgan waited, in suspense. She took a quivering breath.

  ‘It was … instinctive. I was frantic. I fired blindly.’ She closed her eyes again. ‘I hit him in the forehead. He crashed into the bath.’

  ‘Jesus …’ He leant out and squeezed her hand once.

  She sat up and wiped her eyelids.

  ‘I was in shock. All I knew was I had to get out of the house … Get away from the island. And take whatever was in Max’s safe. I knew the combination, though I hadn’t used it for years. I opened it. There was a pile of documents, and keys and things. And some money. I just stuffed it into a handgrip.’

  ‘Everything?’

  She nodded. ‘And the gun. I started to run out of the house. To drive to the airport. I was going to get Max’s aeroplane and fly away. Then I remembered the body.’ She put her fingertips to her eyes. ‘Oh God, I was frightened. I was going to be shot by the Revolutionary Army for murder … I had to get rid of the body. But where? I dragged him out of the bath. There was blood in the bath, so I turned on the shower, to wash it away. I tied a towel tight around his head to stop getting blood on the floor.’ She pressed her eyes. ‘And I dragged him. Through the bedroom. Down the stairs. Oh God, it was horrible …’