As Moreau emerged from the last copse of cypress, he scanned the
mountain, towering upward in the moonlit night, and wondered where the
bastard would be holed up. There was one obvious place--in the
cinderblock control house.
Yeah, ten to one that's where he had to be. The guy was stupid, riding
a lucky streak. It was over.
On the other hand, he thought, there's no reason not to take this slow.
Just in case. The fucker wasn't _that_ stupid.
He looked down as a limb of thorny bramble caught his black trousers,
tearing a hole near the knee. "_Je m'en fiche!_"
Although he lived by terrorism, Jean-Paul was a confirmed denizen of
Paris's _rive gauche_ and he had little use for roughing it here on
this godforsaken island in the bowels of the Aegean. Who needed it? On
the other hand, tonight's expedition promised some diversion. It was
always a pleasure to take out some jerk who was specializing in making
a bloody nuisance of himself. If he could assassinate the chairman of
Renault, he figured, he could handle this asshole guard.
Moreau had brought along Stelios Tritsis, reasoning that a native Greek
could best guide them up this rugged mountain, but he also had
Helling's two Stasi fuck-ups. _Merde! _What a lousy idea it had been to
include them in the first place. Ramirez had lost sight of his better
judgment.
He looked back to check them over. They were carrying he RPG-7, as
ordered, but he doubted they had the slightest idea how it was fired.
Though possibly they were teachable retardates.
He revolved and stared up the mountain, wondering whether the
blockhouse contained any technical apparatus that he had to be wary of.
Maybe, he thought, I'd better just use a stun grenade. . . . What was
that? He checked through the IR scope of his Kalashnikov just to be
sure: one of the giant radar dishes was turning.
What in hell did that mean?
Then he caught a flicker of light from the blockhouse. So he bastard
was in there. But was he trying to pull something?
Okay, time to get serious. The place is well away from the radars and
antennas. So just send a stun grenade through the door and take out the
fucker's eardrums. No frags: no muss, no fuss. Then clean up the place
at leisure.
He motioned for Schindler and Maier to bring up the launcher.