Triska made a flask of hot coffee and collected as many blankets as she could find in the bedrooms to help keep out the bitter cold of the Barents Sea. Shaw made Carew help him remove the dead body of the latter’s personal gunman from Triska’s car, and they stowed it in an outhouse, covering it with a deep pile of logs.
They left soon after that, but in a car that had belonged to Godov, for though it was old-fashioned and heavy it was bigger than Triska’s and it had more speed. They had plenty of petrol aboard, for the old man had had many cans of it in his garage. Shaw was driving and Triska, in the back seat, had the bodyguard’s gun still covering Lawrence Carew.
As they sped down the drive to the Emets road she asked, “Do you think they will come here, to the house?”
“I’m pretty sure of it, but it won’t help them much.” He remembered that Snake’s-head was well aware of his contact with Godov. “I’m surprised the MVD hasn’t turned up already, as a matter of fact, Triska. I only hope we get north of Emets before they do come along.” Once on the road he slammed his foot down hard and the big car rocketed forward; in no time they had flashed past Emets where, though they didn’t know it. the line from Moltsk was humming furiously and radio orders were being beamed to a patrol ahead. And it was only fifteen minutes later as they were roaring north that they saw the winking lights, lights which were waving them down.
Shaw snapped, “See that?”
“Yes, Peter. It may be an ordinary road check—”
“And it may not! In any case I’m not chancing it. The flap’ll be on now.” He narrowed his eyes, gripped the wheel hard. He snapped, “Hold tight, Triska, and watch Carew. I’m going right for them now.”
The probing headlights played on two motor-cyclists, their machines nose to nose across the road, and the levelled guns. Chromium barrels — Kalashnikovs! They weren’t going to come through this, not without one hell of a lot of luck. Shaw could almost fancy he was staring right along the barrels of those guns when his foot rammed hard down on the accelerator and the car seemed to jump forward through the air, roaring down on the motor-cycles like an express train. There was a ripple of light from ahead, red tongues of flame, and then the windscreen went blank as neat round holes appeared. Shaw leaned forward swiftly, holding the wheel dead centre and smashing away with the butt of the Luger until he had cleared his view. Reversing the automatic quickly he fired through the empty space, but couldn’t tell whether or not he had hit anyone. A bullet snicked the jacket material on his left shoulder, more flew singing past his head, and then he heard a high scream from behind. No time to look round now… his face hard and his lips tight and bloodless he sent the car forward and a second later it hit. The men hadn’t been able to get completely clear and the car took both their front wheels together. It reared up for an instant and the wheel seemed to come alive in Shaw’s grip, then the heavy vehicle had bounced back on to the road and they were clear and away and belting north. Shaw had had a momentary glimpse of machines and men whirling into the air and then, just before his tyres screamed round a bend in the road, he caught the first flicker of fire reflected redly in his driving-mirror.
He called anxiously, dreading to hear no answer after that one scream, “All right, Triska?”
“Yes, Peter.” He felt an overwhelming relief. “I ducked in time, but Carew has been hit. The car is like a pepper-pot.”
“Is Carew bad?”
“I think so, Peter. One of the bullets has smashed the side of the skull. He was hit also in the fleshy parts of his arms and in the shoulder, but the skull… he is unconscious now.”
“Uh-huh. Do what you can for him, Triska—”
“But of course! I am a doctor, Peter.”
“Sorry!” He grinned briefly into the streaming wind coming at him through the smashed screen. “I’d like him kept alive just for the pleasure of handing him over in England, but don’t worry all that much if he pegs out. He’s not worth an ounce of your effort or pity really.”
A little later she said, “Peter, you speak of handing him over in England. Do you really think…” She broke off.
“That England’s going up?” he asked, a confident, exultant note in his voice now. “Not if I can help it! It’s early to speak yet, but I think I may have got just the right answer — something that’ll mean we needn’t have a war on our hands after all.”
“What is it, Peter?”
“Sorry, but I’m not saying. Not yet. We aren’t clear yet, Triska, and the less you know the better — just in case.”
“Yes,” she said. “I understand that. You are right.”
They rushed on through the night, grim and unspeaking now. There were low sounds from the back now and then; otherwise the only noise was that of the blipping tyres and the engine and the wind blowing a bitter hurricane into the speeding car. Outside, the desolate country was quiet, peaceful, deserted. They were running a little inland now of the rock-bound coastline and there were no more road-blocks this far north. There didn’t seem to be a telephone-line, and Shaw felt safe in assuming that they wouldn’t have been reported ahead; there would be scarcely anybody up here to be reported to anyway. They should have a clear road from now on and all they had to do was to find a boat.
It was all clear astern as well — until Shaw noticed the headlights a long way behind on the twisting track. He cursed into the night then. That could be the pursuit from Moltsk itself — the MVD, who would have found the bodies in Godov’s house and had very likely decided to check the roads to the north. The car was rocketing along at speed, and faintly Shaw caught the whine of a police siren.
Twenty-one
“They’re right behind us and I reckon they’ve got the legs of us.” Shaw spoke bitterly. “Looks as if I’ve been rumbled after all… it won’t have been all that hard for them to work out after what’s happened — and they may have bowled out my passport into the bargain. Triska, we’ve got to polish off those bastards or we’ve had it.”
She said, “Yes, I think so too. But will we have any chance in a running fight, Peter?”
“It’s not going to be a running fight,” he said. “I’ll wait till I’m in a good position and then we’ll sacrifice the car. You’ll see.”
He drove on flat out, the accelerator almost through the boards. The pursuing car hadn’t much of an edge on him after all, he found, though they closed the distance enough to make Shaw use the first likely section of road that he came to. This was at the bottom of a steepish gradient running through a rocky outcrop that hid them from the car behind. At the bottom the road took a left-hand turn — not a very sharp one, but it would have to do. Shaw jammed on his brakes and the big car screamed to a stop farther along. Quickly he slammed the gears into reverse and backed up until he was some six feet short of the bend. Then he positioned the car broadside across the track and snapped at Triska to get out. He went round to the back himself to help her with Carew and together they got the scientist — and the blankets and coffee — behind some large rock boulders clear of the road and took cover themselves.