The Puma streaked out from the low cloud into full view from the hovercraft, and quite obviously, the yacht.
Dixie was frantically reloading film.
The Bonita Virago snarled at the attacker with a barrage of automatic gunfire. Its Bofors gun was pom-pomming away, swinging hither and thither. It was never quick enough or accurate enough to contend with the Puma’s speed and Weeny’s, adroit, evasive manoeuvres. He flipped and rolled the helicopter so skilfully that the yacht’s anti aircraft gun was creating no more than an irritation. The intermittent clouds of foil decoy eliminated risk from any surface-to-air missiles.
From the hovercraft, everyone but Bayliss fired at the yacht at will to hamper their antagonists’ movement on deck. The fusillade stopped as they watched the torpedo do its
