It was as they began to come to the outskirts of the town, after seeing Gibraltar looming immense across the Bay to the eastward of the Algeciras road for much of the way, that they picked up Karina’s car. Both Debonnair and Shaw recognized it at once — the long, low black bonnet and the shining silver wings and scarlet hood. Quite likely Karina had been delayed back at San Roque behind a string of cars. The traffic was thicker on the roads now, and Shaw’s car didn’t seem to be recognized — Karina wouldn’t have expected them to guess her route and destination, much less come through that ambush and then catch up. At all events, she wasn’t travelling particularly fast now, and Shaw at once eased down to drop well behind. He didn’t want to overtake, and they hadn’t enough fire-power between them to force Karina (who according to Pepe had had a sub-machine-gun with her) to the side of the road and shoot it out — even if such a policy had been wise on a fairly crowded road. Shaw simply had to wait his time; the main thing was, he’d caught up— he felt a sense of satisfaction and a tingling down his spine at the thought that he was closing in.
Then, to his surprise, Karina’s car went on past the bullring, taking the road to the right which would head her out of the town. It stopped by a petrol pump, and the driver leaned out and called to a passer-by, who went across. Karina was evidently asking the way. The passer-by was pointing ahead, talking volubly as the car took on petrol — evidently for a longer journey.
Shaw had stopped too by this time. He called over his shoulder, “Deb, I believe she’s making for Cadiz. There’s nowhere else on that road except Jerez — and that’s not likely to be much use to her. It must be Cadiz — or Huelva, farther along the coast.” He spoke in Spanish to the guardia who was sitting surlily under Debonnair’s gun-mouth. “Are there any control posts on the Jerez road?”
“None.”
Then the idea came to Shaw. Speaking to the guardia again, he asked him if he knew of any back way through the town which would bring him out on to the main road again, but ahead of Karina’s car instead of behind it.
The guardia growled, “I cannot help you.”
Shaw snapped, “Give him thirty seconds, Debbie.” Then he put that into Spanish for the man’s benefit; the gun bored harder into the guardia's side. He squirmed, gasped out, “Take the turning to the left. I will direct you from there.”
“Fine! And if you direct me wrong — to a Policia Municipal post or anything like that,” said Shaw genially, “the lady will oblige me by finishing you off.”
He started up and swung left into the town behind Karina’s car, which was still stopped at the petrol-station, went as fast as he dared round the bull-ring, driving on his horn and gathering a full supply of vociferous curses and shaken fists as he went. He found himself in a maze of dirty streets, but with the guardia directing him sullenly he was soon into the main road again and travelling fast. He said, “Let me know when you see ’em behind, Debbie. I’ll keep a good distance ahead — they won’t be expecting us anyway, let alone to be in front of ’em — and it’s as good a way of following as any other! Something tells me Karina’s going to get the biggest shock of her life before long.”
It was just three minutes later when Debonnair reported that the Chevrolet was behind them.
Karina didn’t appear to suspect a thing.
She or her companions must have caught at least occasional sights of Shaw’s car ahead of them all the way, but there was nothing distinctive about it, and it wasn’t by any means the only car travelling to Jerez that day; and, as Shaw had remarked, there was nothing about a car running ahead to arouse anyone’s suspicions, especially as he didn’t maintain any set distance, never allowed himself to get close. Shaw had an idea that Karina was killing time for some reason or other, for she travelled at no more than normal speed. Shaw had been wondering if he ought to follow Karina’s example and try an ambush of his own — swing the car across the road beyond a turning and shoot it out. But he’d rejected that idea; for one thing, their captive guardia would take his chance, which would mean Debonnair would be fully employed covering him, and come to that both of them together wouldn’t be much use against a sub-machine-gun. They wouldn’t stand a chance, and Ackroyd could easily get shot in the process. Besides, there were those other cars on the road. This wasn’t the Vercín district.
They just had to go on and see what happened.
It was a relief to Shaw not to have to bolt along the road as he had been doing earlier; as it was, his head ached with the glare of the sun and the concentrated effort of handling a big car on foul roads, and he’d had no sleep all last night. Karina stopped once, presumably for a snack or a call of nature; and this gave Shaw and Debonnair an opportunity of stopping farther along, where they could watch Karina’s car without being seen, and of having some sandwiches and the brandy-laced coffee in a vacuum jug that Don Jaime had provided. After that Shaw felt a good deal better. Though Debonnair offered to drive, he refused; he wanted to be handling the car himself if anything should develop suddenly.
Dusk had fallen, and was already merging into that quick nightfall that comes with little twilight in Southern Spain, when Debonnair reported that she couldn’t see the following car any longer.
Shaw’s foot came off the accelerator; half a minute later he asked, “Any sign now?”
Debonnair was looking back. “No — o…"
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
He stopped then; they remained on the alert, but nothing came behind. Shaw said, “I’ll drop back on ’em and have a discreet look. They may be up to something. I won’t take the car — you keep an eye on our long, thin pal here,” he added, as he got out, jerking a thumb towards the guardia, who was slouched in a corner.
Debonnair said, “Okay, but I want a breath of air, darling.”
Shaw nodded. They were fairly well inland just here, about twenty miles from the coast, but there was a breeze from the direction of the water, while it was wicked in that stuffy car superheated even now from the day’s sun. Debonnair, holding the guardia's carbine, which had been down beside her, pushed her door open, and Shaw watched appreciatively as long, bare legs came out from the car, the frock rucking up above her knees. They stood there for a moment, the two of them sniffing the fresh night air, feeling that light wind off the distant sea ruffling their hair, the scent of gorse and broom and wild lavender strong in their nostrils, and all the small flowers that were sending their perfumes into the night.
Debonnair took Shaw’s hand in hers, gently, and they drew close together, her head on his arm. The night was so still, so silent. With all his being Shaw wished he was finished with this cloak-and-dagger stuff, that he could get the homey, ordinary life that he wanted so urgently, always he and Debonnair together. Somewhere where there would be security, and peace, and a fireside, and a child yelling for its supper when he came home after an ordinary day’s work was done, or on leave from his ship as an ordinary naval officer again.
And then — that mood vanished. Very quickly, very suddenly.
Away to their left, quite a long way off, where the road twisted a little, Shaw caught the beam of a headlight shining back the way they had come, saw it briefly as his mouth came down on the girl’s wind-ruffled hair.