"Can't do that," Murdock replied, racing toward the pass. "She could jam you again then at any time-and get us both."
"Is that the only reason?"
"Yes, the risk."
The red car was not in sight when he came through into the pass.
"Well?" he said. "What do your sensors read?"
"She entered the gully on the right. There is a heat trail."
Murdock continued to slow as he moved in that direction.
"That must be where she was hiding when we came by," he said. "It could be some kind of trap."
"Perhaps you had better call for the others, cover the entrance, and wait."
"No!"
Murdock turned his wheel and sent his light along the passageway. She was nowhere in sight, but there were sideways. He continued to creep forward, entering. His right hand was again on the pistol grip.
He passed these side openings, each of them large enough to hide a car, all of them empty.
He followed a bend, bearing him to the right. Before he had moved an entire car length along it, a burst of gunfire from the left, ahead, caused him to slam on the brakes and turn the cannon. But an engine roared to life before he could take aim, and a red streak crossed his path to vanish up another sideway. He hit the gas again and followed.
Jenny was out of sight, but he could hear the sound of her somewhere ahead. The way widened as he advanced. Finally it forked at a large stand of stone, one arm continuing past it, the other bearing off sharply to the left. He slowed, taking time to consider the alternatives.
"Where's the heat trail go?" he asked.
"Both ways. I don't understand."
Then the red car came swinging into sight from the left, guns firing. The Angel shook as they were hit. Murdock triggered the laser, but she swept past him, turning and speeding off to the right.
"She circled it before we arrived, to confuse your sensors, to slow us.
"It worked, too," he added, moving ahead again. "She's too damned smart."
"We can still go back."
Murdock did not reply.
Twice more Jenny lay in wait, fired short bursts, evaded the singeing beam, and disappeared. An intermittent knocking sound began beneath the hood as they moved, and one telltale on the dash indicated signs of overheating.
"It is not serious," the Angel stated. "I can control it."
"Let me know if there is any change."
"Yes."
Following the heat trail, they bore steadily to the left, racing down a widening sand slope past castles, minarets, and cathedrals of stone, dark or pale, striped and spotted with mica like the first raindrops of a midsummer's storm. They hit the bottom, slid sideways, and came to a stop, wheels spinning.
He threw the light around rapidly, causing grotesque shadows to jerk like marionettes in a ring dance about them.
"It's a wash. Lots of loose sand. But I don't see Jenny."
Murdock ground the gears, rocking the vehicle, but they did not come free.
"Give me control," said the Angel. "I've a program for this."
Murdock threw the switch. At once a fresh series of rocking movements began. This continued for a full minute. Then the heat telltale began to flicker again.
"So much for the program. Looks as if I'm going to have to get out and push," Murdock said.
"No. Call for help. Stay put. We can hold her off with the cannon if she returns."
"I can get back inside pretty quick. We've got to get moving again."
As he reached for the door, he heard the lock click.
"Release it," he said. "I'll just shut you off, go out, and turn you on again from there. You're wasting time."
"I think you are making a mistake."
"Then let's hurry and make it a short one."
"All right. Leave the door open." There followed another click. "I will feel the pressure when you begin pushing. I will probably throw a lot of sand on you."
"I've got a scarf."
Murdock climbed out and limped toward the rear of the vehicle. He wound his scarf up around his mouth and nose. Leaning forward, he placed his hands upon the car and began to push. The engine roared and the wheels spun as he threw his weight against it.
Then, from the corner of his eye, to the right, he detected a movement. He turned his head only slightly and continued pushing the Angel of Death.
Jenny was there. She had crept up slowly into a shadowy place beneath a ledge, turning, facing him, her guns directly upon him. She must have circled. Now she was halted.
It seemed useless to try running. She could open up upon him anytime that she chose.
He leaned back, resting for a moment, pulling himself together. Then he moved to his left, leaned forward, began pushing again. For some reason she was waiting. He could not determine why, but he sidled to the left. He moved his left hand, then his right. He shifted his weight, moved his feet again, fighting a powerful impulse to look in her direction once again. He was near the left taillight. Now there might be a chance. Two quick steps would place the body of the Angel between them. Then he could rush forward and dive back in. But why wasn't she firing?
No matter. He had to try. He eased up again. The feigned rest that followed was the most difficult spell of the whole thing.
Then he leaned forward once more, reached out as if to lay his hands upon the vehicle once again, and slipped by it, moving as quickly as he could toward the open door, and then through it, and inside. Nothing happened the entire time he was in transit, but the moment the car door slammed a burst of gunfire occurred beneath the ledge, and the Angel began to shudder and then to rock.
"There!" came the voice of the Angel as the gun swung to the right and a beam lanced outward and upward from it.
It bobbed. It rode high. It fell upon the cliff face, moving.