The speedometer of the police car touched and passed eighty-five as Virgil came down the eastern side of the ridge and plunged on toward Ontario and Fontana. His fingers opened and closed as he gripped the wheel; he cut his way through traffic and past angry drivers who looked in their rear-view mirrors hoping to see a cop.
A rebuilt Mercury blowing smoke from its exhaust pulled alongside to race. This time Virgil did not bother to use the siren; he sped on and left the Mercury behind.
He passed Ontario and dropped his speed of necessity when the road narrowed down to two lanes. He cut past a diesel truck that blocked his way and ignored the flashing lights the driver threw into his mirror. At Fontana he took the left-lane cutoff and once more turned on the siren. Ignoring the stop signs, he was on Route 66 eastbound in less than eight minutes, the Kaiser Steel Works vanishing behind him. He turned off and headed toward the mountains.
Traffic fell to nothing and he stopped the siren. Now he heard the rush of the wind and the whine of the tires against the hard roadway, and felt the heat of the desert as he drew nearer to the El Cajon Pass. The headlights bit tunnels in the darkness while the moonlight gave him the rough contour of the ground ahead. His body ached from the tension building in it, but now that he was almost where he wanted desperately to be, he could not relax for an instant. He expected at any moment to encounter a patrolling police car, but apparently none had been assigned to this back-road cutoff.
In a few minutes he reached the base of the mountain and began to climb. He had had a great deal of time to think and his mind told him the place to go. Every other likely spot would be covered; a patrol car was waiting silently at Ellen Boardman’s home and another was stationed just outside Sun Valley Lodge. Only one place remained unguarded, and when he thought of it, Virgil felt a freezing stab of fear.
“It’s such a lovely evening,” Ellen Boardman said.
“It is indeed.” George Nunn swung the car moderately and easily around the broad switchback and fed a little more gas as a six-percent climb came into view. The engine throbbed as it attacked the grade and felt the strain of the thinning air. When they had reached the top of the ascent and the road curved to climb once more, George swung the wheel the opposite way and turned off onto the level parking area at the high viewpoint. As he stopped the engine and carefully set the hand brake, he could already see the fantastic blanket of light spread over the silent land more than a mile below.
Ellen turned to him and smiled, letting him know that she approved his stopping here at her favorite turnout. George opened the door and helped her out. As he did so, he saw there was another car parked well down at the extreme edge of the turnout; the people in it, he decided, had chosen that spot because they did not wish to be disturbed. Then he dismissed them from his mind.
He and Ellen walked to the edge and stood, hand in hand, silently absorbing the wide panorama of tens of thousands of lights challenging the growing blackness of the night. George let his fingers tighten a little and was enraptured when a slight pressure came in return.
He did not see the dark shadow that was approaching; he heard no sound. His mind, and his whole being, were concentrated on the girl beside him; in just a moment he was going to take her in his arms. Then he turned to her and with sudden shock saw that they were not alone. He looked up and into the face of evil.
He gulped a quick breath and knew.
He knew who and what it was, and he knew that he would have to fight-probably for his life and for that of the girl, who now looked up startled, not knowing why his hands had suddenly gone as hard as iron.
He turned Ellen around away from him, faced the big man, and said, “Yes?”
For one moment he took hope when he saw no weapon; at the same time he heard the quick, frightened gasp from Ellen that told him she knew, too.
By the moonlight he saw the man he guessed to be a murderer draw back his lips and reveal his white clenched teeth. Then all hope vanished as the man raised his hands and advanced.
George took a bare second to wonder if he would have time to peel off his coat to free his arms for what they must do. At once he knew it would be fatal and instead raised his own arms in a boxing stance. He was not much of a boxer, but a sudden surge of reckless determination gave him courage. At the first attack he would block with his left and cross with his right, to the point of the jaw if he could make it.
The big man lunged at him, fastened one huge hand around his left wrist, and with the other thrust forward seized George’s throat.
With all his power George pounded his right fist into the man’s ribs. He hit so hard his knuckles seemed to shatter, but the blow had no effect. The thumb of the attacker’s left hand pressed into the triangle at the base of George’s throat and pain seemed to paralyze his whole body.
Then he heard Ellen scream and saw her dash herself against the impossibly big man. Holding one of her shoes in her hand, she tried futilely to beat the heel against his skull.
The attacker released his grip on George’s throat and with his free arm swept the girl aside as he might have thrust a sappling out of the way. He caught her across the breasts and she fell backward sharply, landing hard on her back in the loose gravel.
Then, remembering a trick he had heard about, George gathered all the strength he could muster and snapped his knee hard toward the man’s groin. He had almost reached his target when the powerful leg muscles of the other man’s body tightened and trapped George’s leg in a massive vise.
Then two hands seized George’s throat and fingers locked behind his head. His leg was freed, but his head was snapped downward with commanding force; he saw the raised knee just before his face was smashed against the hard area above the attacker’s kneecap, and he slid to the ground mercifully unconscious.
A flash of distant light touched the mountain opposite the parking area and the sound of a car coming could be heard in the still night.
The attacker, looming huge and dark against the sky, aimed a swift, vicious kick to George’s ribs; then he flung himself on the ground beside Ellen and clasped his huge hand over her mouth and face.
As a last, hopeless, desperate resort she had hoped to reason with him, to beg for mercy if she must, but now she had to fight hard just to breathe. Before her there swam the bright-red image of her helpless escort and the realization that the horror of rape was upon her. She tried to kick her feet and twist away, but the powerful clamp across her face tightened mercilessly and she was forced to be still.
The car came nearer, fighting the steep grade at the limit of its power. The lights reached the crest of the hill, swung across the surface of the parking area, and found the three people sprawled motionless on the ground. The car came rushing toward them as though to destroy them under its wheels; then it swerved and the acrid smell of burning rubber filled the air as it screamed to a stop.
In a single bound the attacker was on his feet; he charged the car and thrust his powerful arm through the open window to grab the man behind the wheel.
As the attack came, Tibbs rolled sharply across the seat, yanked the right-hand door open, thrust out his feet, and gained the ground.
With the first lungful of air she could gather, Ellen cried, “Watch out!” Virgil did not need the warning, but it told him that she was probably all right, and that he was still in time. He shot a quick glance at George, who lay motionless face down; even in the cold stillness of the moonlight he could see that he was gone-unconscious or dead. It gave him complete justification for what he had to do. Then there was no more time as the big man appeared before him.