Free Exocet (v5) by Jack Higgins

from the office.
    She phoned him at the Embassy from the first public phone box she came to on her way home and met him an hour later in the Plaza de Mayo where Juan Peron had been so fond of speech making in the old days.
    They sat on a bench in one of the gardens and she passed him a newspaper containing the copy of the report.
    'I won't hold you,' she said. 'I've read that thing and it's dynamite. I'll see you again.'
    Jack Daley, who was in reality an agent of the CIA, hurried back to the Embassy to read the report in peace. Having read it, he didn't waste any time. Twenty minutes later it was being encoded and forwarded to Washington. Within two hours of being received there, it was passed on to Brigadier Charles Ferguson in London by order of the Director of the CIA himself.

7
    Raul Montera moved out on to the terrace of the house at Vicente Lopez Floreda and took in the gardens below with a conscious pleasure. Palm trees waved in the slight breeze, water gurgled in the conduits and fountains, and the scent of mimosa was heavy on the air. Beyond the perimeter wall the River Plate sparkled like silver in the evening sun.
    His mother and Linda were sitting at a table beside a fountain on the lower terrace and it was the child who saw him first. She cried out in delight and came running towards him, arms outstretched, dressed for riding in jodhpurs and a yellow sweater, hair tied back in a ponytail.
    'Papa, we didn't know! We didn't know.'
    She clutched him and he held her tightly and she smiled up at him, fierce and proud. 'You were on the television at Rio Gallegos with General Dozo. I saw you. So did all the girls at school.'
    'Is that so?'
    'And the Skyhawks at Death Valley, we saw that too and I knew you must be flying one of them.'
    'Death Valley?' He stopped short. 'How did you know about that?'
    'Isn't that what the pilots call it, the place where they make their run on the British fleet? Two girls in my class at school have lost brothers.' She hugged him again. 'Oh, I'm so pleased you're safe. Will you be going back?'
    'No, not to Gallegos, but I'm going to France in the morning.'
    They reached the table. His mother sat watching him calmly, cool, elegant, perfectly groomed as usual, looking fifteen years younger than her seventy years.
    'I'm supposed to be going riding,' Linda said. 'I'll cancel it.'
    'Nonsense,' Donna Elena told her. 'Run along now. Your father will be here when you get back.'
    Linda turned to him. 'Promise?'
    'On my honour.'
    She hurried up the steps and Montera turned and reached for Donna Elena's hands. 'Mother,' he said formally as he kissed them. 'It's good to see you.'
    Her eyes took in every aspect of the face, so finely drawn, the haunted eyes. 'Oh God,' she whispered. 'My dearest boy, what have they done to you?'
    She was, by nature, self-sufficient, controlled, had learned many years before never to give too much of herself away. The result was that they had always enjoyed a highly formalised relationship.
    She tossed all that out of the window now, jumped to her feet and flung her arms around him. 'It's so good to have you back safe and well, Raul. So good.'
    'Mama.' He hadn't used that term since he was a little boy and felt hot tears of emotion cloud his eyes.
    'Come, sit down. Talk to me.'
    He lit a cigarette and sprawled back, letting everything go. 'This is wonderful.'
    'So, you're not going back?'
    'No.'
    'I must thank the Virgin for that in some suitable way. A man of your age flying jet planes. What nonsense, Raul. A miracle you are here.'
    'Yes, it is, when you come to think of it,' Montera said. 'I'd better light a few candles to someone myself.'
    'To the Virgin or to Gabrielle?' He frowned warily, and she said, 'Here, give me a cigarette. I'm not a fool, you know. I've seen you on television three times now in that Skyhawk of yours. One can hardly miss the inscription just below the cockpit. Who is she, Raul?'
    'The woman I love,' he said simply, repeating the words he had