A Woman Involved. John Davis Gordon
Читать онлайн книгу.
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 put 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.
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