Devil May Care

they piled in and Hamid smacked the car into gear. As he let in the clutch and laid a long black streak of rubber down the Noshahr waterfront, Darius turned to Felix. ‘I’ve told him to get us back out of town to an isolated call box I saw. I’m going to get on to Tehran. Babak can radio through on a secure wavelength to London and they can scramble whatever the RAF can manage. I don’t think we can go via Langley.’
    Felix swore again. ‘That way is sure enough shot for the time being. I don’t know if Carmen’s doing what he’s told from Washington or if he’s at some rodeo all his own.’
    ‘At the moment,’ said Darius, ‘it doesn’t really matter. We just know we’re on our own. In any case, we may find out soon enough about Silver. There’s someone following.’
    As Hamid screeched round the corner into a palm-lined residential street of white villas, Felix looked through the back window. A dusty black Pontiac was closing in on them.
    ‘That’s all we need,’ said Felix. ‘I only got this.’ He took a Colt M-1911 from inside his jacket. ‘Accurate to seventy-five yards, but feeling its age.’
    ‘Give him a warning,’ said Darius.
    ‘Another thing,’ said Felix, holding up his hook. ‘This was my firing hand.’
    Darius took the gun, knocked out the rear window and fired a shot at the black Pontiac, which swerved wildly, ran up over the pavement, but then regained the road.
    ‘ Allahu Akbar! ’ said Hamid.
    ‘Just drive, pal,’ said Felix, ducking down below the open rear window. ‘Is it Carmen?’
    ‘I couldn’t see,’ said Darius. ‘Faster, Hamid! Go, go, go!’
    The Cadillac came to a small street market where its front wheel clipped an overflowing barrow, sending a cascade of oranges across the street. Hamid sank his right foot and the big car roared on, over an ungated railway crossing and up into the shallow hills behind the town.
    Darius raised his head and looked back through the rear window. Holding the Colt carefully in both hands, he let go another round.
    It shattered the windscreen of the Pontiac, but the stock of a handgun punched swiftly through the glass, revealing a pale, sweating face of terrier eagerness with reddish hair plastered to its forehead.
    ‘It’s Carmen,’ said Felix. ‘Let him have it.’
    Darius shot again, and the bullet whined off the bonnet of Silver’s car. ‘How many shots have you got?’ he said.
    ‘Seven plus one in the chamber,’ said Felix. ‘Five left.’
    ‘We’ll have to keep those in reserve,’ said Darius. ‘You’re going to have to cover me while I make that call.’
    ‘Better try and lose him, then.’
    Darius barked at Hamid, who dropped the wheel to the right so the car, as it drifted and screeched through aright-angle turn, laid a towering dustcloud behind it. Hamid shouted back at Darius over the noise.
    ‘We’re nearly at the call box,’ said Darius to Felix. ‘He’s trying to kick up more dust. Hold on tight.’
    They were off the tarmac and on to a dirt road, where Hamid swung the car from side to side, violently, so they could hear the steel frame groaning against the whipping G-forces and the tyres screaming as they tried to grip the surface. But the big sedan was built for cruising, not for stunts, and as Hamid tried to correct the heavy understeer he hit a white rock and the car flipped over on its side, slewing hard across the road on its doors.
    Darius, his head cut, climbed out of the upper rear door and pulled Felix up after him. Felix cursed as he dropped down on his good leg and Darius handed him the gun, then ran ahead to where the track rejoined the tarmac road and they could see the lonely call box.
    ‘Cover me,’ he shouted to Felix.
    Through the swirling dustcloud came a labouring-engine noise, then the black Pontiac appeared, and Felix, from behind the barrier of the steaming Cadillac, fired straight through the open windshield. The Pontiac braked, swerved and stopped. Silver, bleeding from the shoulder, threw himself out and rolled behind the vehicle.
    Felix knew he had only to keep him there long enough for Darius to get through to Tehran with the co-ordinates. But who knew how long that would take? How good was the Persian telephone system?
    In the box, Darius was talking to Babak. ‘Listen hard. Get on to London on fourteen megacycles. And there’s an airliner …’
    Felix, holding the gun in his left hand, watched for anysign of movement from the Pontiac. He had four shots