I hurried us on.
When we were clear of the village, I found a stone wall leading across the fields towards the stream. I told the girl to stay there. The van shouldn't be along for about half an hour. But if it comes, stop it. I don't want it going into the village.'
Then I took off, running in a crouch, down behind the wall.
A few minutes of that convinced me that my running-crouched days were long past. I straightened up behind a tree, breathing fast and shallow, then went on more slowly. I had nearly a quarter of a mile in all to go to the stream, and I had to go that far to make sure I was clear of the farmland – and also to give me a sense of direction.
I splashed across and into the trees, then turned and trotted south on the far bank. Through gaps in the trees I kept an eye on the church spire just over the slope. I knew I was safe until I got level with it; after that, there would be the two cops to worry about.
When the spire was square on my left, I slowed down. Across the stream there were wide, lush green fields, separated by fat stone walls. The woods where Harvey and Maganhard were parked started about a quarter of a mile farther on. I didn't think the cops would have crossed the stream but I thought they'd have come as far as it; it was an obvious natural boundary to any search area.
But they might not be searching – just sitting, watching. Waiting for reinforcements. I slowed down even more, and started edging away from the stream, deeper into the trees.
Something splashed in the water. I froze against a tree, then raised one eyebrow round it.
One of the cops was lifting a wet foot and shaking it angrily. Then he pulled himself ashore on my side, sat down, and emptied his boot. After that he picked up his submachine-gun and started peering carefully at the soggy bank, looking for tracks.
He was about thirty yards from me, and there wasn't enough undergrowth for me to move without being seen.
He took his time. He walked several yards along the bank, still looking at the ground, then looking for an easier place to cross back. Finally he crossed, climbed up into the field, and walked slowly away on a diagonal track towards the woods and the road. I took a deep breath and started running.
A few minutes later I was level with the woods on the opposite bank and looking for the place where we'd first crossed, coming down from the car. Something glinted among the trees ahead. I moved cautiously, from tree to tree. Gradually it grew into a small light-green car, a Renault 4L, half buried in the low branches of a young fir.
Then I remembered the proprietor talking aboutone car being shot up… I should have listened harder. The third man, the one who'd run away, had got one of the cars started and had trailed us. It wouldn't have been difficult -he didn't need to keep us in sight. We'd left a blood-trail of hydraulic fluid for anybody who knew where to look for it.
And those first shots had been when he'd caught up with Harvey and Maganhard…
I yanked open one of the buckled doors, in the desperate hope that there might be a spare gun lying around. There wasn't of course.
I ran down to the stream, crossed, and started up towards the road. The stream was closer to the road here; I reckoned I had only about two hundred yards to go. I knew just where I'd left Harvey and Maganhard – but they'd have moved when the shooting started. Where to? Were they still even alive? There'd been only two shots, and it's just about impossible to kill two people for certain with just two pistol shots. So there must have been one shot from the new friend and one, in reply, from Harvey. Unless the first shothad killed Harvey, and the second had been a careful, aimed execution of Maganhard…
I stopped and sank down to a crouch beside a tree. That sort of thinking was tying my brain in knots. All I really knew was that I was walking into a gunfight without a gun. Why the hell hadn't I carried the Mauser? Because it was too big. So why hadn't I picked up Bernard's gun when I had the chance? – I could have carried that. No answer. I moved off again, bent double.
I had about a hundred yards to go. There still wasn't enough undergrowth to give any real cover for movement, but at least the ground was damp enough not to make any noise underfoot. I crept from tree to tree.
Fifty yards. Now I could see a gleam of sky ahead through the trees, where they ended at the road. I stared into each low patch of grass or bramble, looking for the outline of a lying figure, the movement of a hand, the glint of a gun-barrel. I saw dozens, but none of them were there.
Maybe I should call to Harvey. And maybe I should keep my head shut unless I wanted it blown off.
Then I saw something, right ahead. A shape, a heap, in the open and not moving… It was the luggage. I started breathing again. But now was the time to speak or forever hold my peace. I slid down among the roots of the tree and said quietly: 'Harvey – it's Cane.'
Something moved in the brambles over to my right. I jerked forward. A gun banged and chips of wood spattered around me. I threw myself into the clump of bushes in front. Too late, I saw somebody kneel up among them.
Gunfire singed my face and battered in my ears. I lay flat, trying to work out if I were dead.
Harvey said: 'Davey Crockett, I presume? Welcome to the Alamo. I was hoping you'd come along and tempt him out of cover.'
'Any time. ' I started unwrapping myself from the bushes. A few yards over to my right, a man. was lying half out of the bramble patch. Harvey walked across to him. He walked stiffly, and then I saw a stained rip in his jacket over his left ribs. I yanked myself free and went after him.
'Are you hurt bad?'
'Not serious.' His face was set hard as he tried to lift the man with his foot. He let him fall back, convinced he was dead.
'I'd been stuck in cover about twenty minutes waiting for him to make a move. What's the news?'
'Let me have a look.' I started tearing open the bloodstained hole in his shirt. 'The news is we're being picked up, but the cops have got a roadblock in the village. They heard the shooting and they're out in the fields.' I nodded over my shoulder. 'It's just a gash – but you'll have to run with it Can you?'
He nodded.
I said: Then go round the village and up to the road.'
Maganhard came up behind us, carrying my Mauser as delicately as he would a dead rat. I took it off him.
Harvey said to him: 'Liechtenstein's now that way ' He pointed to the stream. 'Get the luggage and run.'
Maganhard said: 'I do not mind about the luggage-'
'Imind,' I said. 'It's evidence of who was here.'
Maganhard went to fetch it. Harvey called after him: 'Remember – the business you save may be your own.' Then he looked at the dead man. 'Though he's a good piece of evidence himself. They won't think he committed suicide.'
A voice from the field shouted:'Ai! Allons-y?'
I said: 'I may be able to fool them a bit. Stay across the stream and away from the bank: they'll look for tracks there. Anddon't come back for me, whatever you hear.'
He crooked an eyebrow at me: 'You aren't going to be the boy on the burning deck, are you?'
Maganhard went trundling past, carrying the two cases. I said: 'I'll be along.'
He turned away, then back. 'It's the first time I've ever been hit,' he said thoughtfully. 'He came up behind me; got me by surprise.'
'I'd assumedthat, for God's sake.'
He didn't seem to hear me. 'But it's not an excuse really. People shouldn't get up behind me and take me by surprise. My job.' Then he loped off down the track, his left elbow pressed tight into his ribs, his Air France suitcase in his hand.
I took a deep breath that was only partly because of the running and jumping I'd been doing recently, found the Mauser holster, and clipped it on as a shoulder-piece. Then I walked over to the dead man.
He was a smallish man with long dark hair, wearing a shabby grey double-breasted suit. Hus gun was a US Army Colt.45 automatic. I put it in a pocket, picked him up, and staggered through the wood towards the fields.