Susan settled herself in the front seat of the BMW as they drove on to the autobahn and her father sent the speedometer needle trembling towards the 180 kilometers-per-hour mark.
"Gee, that's over a hundred!" she cried admiringly. "But how do you know they'll have taken this road, Daddy?"
"I'm playing a hunch," Colonel Templar said, twitching the wheel to surge past a group of trucks in the slow and center lanes. "They must know I have connections with the police here. They'll want to get out of town as fast as they can, now that they have what they want."
"But why do they want… Oh, I don't know; it's all a complete mystery to me!" the girl complained.
Her father permitted himself a wintry smile. "Like all good mysteries, it ends with a car chase!" he said. "The whole thing was obviously a set-up from beginning to end."
"A set-up? You mean…?"
"I mean that youth, that boy your mother and I disliked so much, was deliberately planted in Konigswinter with instructions to make you fall for him. So that when the opportunity came, he could trick you into going away with him and they could take you to Hamburg."
Susan had told him briefly everything that had happened while she was in the hands of Lisa and her gang. But she had said nothing of the reasons for her running away from home in the first place.
"They must have been watching me for months," Templar continued. "Whatever they told you, the reason behind the whole operation was simply to get me to Hamburg."
"But why Hamburg? I don't see…"
The colonel cleared his throat. "They'd have noticed that whenever I went there, I – uh – visited a certain place," he said awkwardly.
"I can't expect you to understand… but there it is. You were deliberately allowed to get away after the crash on the autobahn – just long enough to tell your story before they took you back. They knew I'd receive the police reports. They beat up the people you spoke to to make sure there were police reports. And they figured I'd rush up here as soon as I heard. They were right."
"Yes, Daddy, but…"
"Let me finish. They guessed, too, that even if I was looking for you, I'd still find time to see my – uh – friend in the Herbertstrasse. They must have bribed her to let them know when I arrived. All they had to do then was tell you some cock-and-bull story to make sure you'd play ball. It didn't matter too much if you revealed yourself to me or not. Once you were… once we…" The colonel flushed and cleared his throat again. "Once their spies had taken their pictures, they were okay."
"But why did they want them?" the puzzled teenager asked. "Are they going to try and blackmail you?"
"Nothing so simple, I'm afraid," her father replied, shifting down to third to streak past a Mercedes roadster. "You know the aims these people profess?"
"They call themselves anarchists. Yes, they told me. They want to destroy…"
"They want to destroy everything. They're totally negative. And they'll do anything… anything… to discredit us the Americans. They pick fights with soldiers in bars. They provoke GI's to behave badly. They'll even commit murder so they can pin the deaths on us. There was a case in Bonn this week…"
"I know. I read about it in the paper. They were boasting about it."
"There you are, then. Now you know I have this new liaison job starting next month? Supposing they are able to print certain pictures in their Goddamn underground newspapers… pictures proving that the man who's going to represent the United States in this new set-up not only visits… places like the one we just left… but that he… takes his pleasures with more than one lady." Templar was flushing awkwardly again, but he, continued valiantly: "Supposing also that those pictures show him having sexual relations with, uh, with his own daughter? Can you imagine the effect such a scandal would have on our image? On me? Can you imagine the headlines? Is this the kind of man we have to rely on for our good relations with the United States? Are these the kind of people we're supposed to trust? You can see why I've got to get those pictures back and destroy the negatives!"
Susan whistled. "My God!" she said feelingly.
Her father tutted irritably. "How many times do I have to tell you not to swear!" he said sharply.
They roared across the Elbe bridge. Soon afterwards a huge direction sign loomed up in the BMW's headlights: Bremen, Oldenburg – 1000m.
"The turnpike splits here," Colonel Templar said. "Have they headed back south – or will they decide it's better to lie low in another direction until they can use their lousy photos? We have a fifty-fifty chance of guessing right."
"Oldenburg!" Susan exclaimed suddenly. "I think… I heard something, but I wasn't really listening… but I think one of them said something about meeting a friend who had studio, I think it was in Oldenburg."
"We'll take a chance!" Templar said crisply.
He swung the wheel over to the right and sent the BMW skimming towards the West. They caught up with the pale green Volkswagen on a deserted stretch of road only ten miles short of Bremen. The Westphalian countryside lay dark and featureless on either side of the autobahn. Beneath the low clouds blotting out the stars there wasn't a single light to be seen.
"Be careful!" Susan warned as the livid beetle shape of their quarry gradually increased in size at the far end of the tunnel carved from the flight by the coupe's headlights. "They had one gun already. Now they'll have yours, too!"
The needle on the speedometer dial was quivering on the 190 mark. Templar reached across and flipped open the glove box.
"I wasn't Small Arms Champion of the Pacific Theater for nothing!" he said grimly, taking out a small but beautifully finished target pistol. "She's only a.22 bore, but she shoots straight, and she shoots good!"
The firing didn't start until they had almost overtaken the Volkswagen. The gang must either have been keeping watch out the rear window or have spotted that they were being followed back in Hamburg. The sounds of the shots were lost in the howl of the BMW's motor, but orange flashes blossomed almost simultaneously from the side windows of the speeding beetle. With a crack like a giant whiplash, the windshield of the coupe went suddenly opaque as wind screamed through a small hole drilled beside the driving mirror.
Cursing, Templar stood on the brakes as he wrestled with the wheel. The BMW shuddered, lurched sideways with locked wheels, straightened up as he released the pressure on the pedal, ran on to the hard shoulder, bumped across a stretch of rough grass and then shot back on to the greasy tarmac with tires shrieking. Blinded by the opacity of the screen, the colonel hammered his fist violently at the toughened glass and punched a hole through it at the height of his eyes.
As the icy wind whistled through the jagged aperture, he saw the steel fencing on the central reservation whipping past sideways in the swinging beams of his lights. The coupe, still traveling at over 100 kilometers per hour, was spinning around in the center of the wet road! Shifting down to third, and then to second, he sawed desperately at the wheel as the protesting motor drove the needle on the revolution counter far up into the red quadrant on the dial. The car straightened momentarily, was over-corrected, began to slide the other way… and then slammed its tail jarring against the metal barrier with a shock that rattled Susan's teeth in her head. She cried aloud with fright – but the impact knocked the BMW back onto the carriageway pointing in the right direction, and her father immediately put his foot down again and resumed the chase. The twin tail lights of the VW, tiny crimson specks in the distance, were just disappearing over the brow of a hill far down the darkened autobahn.
"Climb over into the back and drop down behind my seat," Templar ordered as the speedometer needle quivered around the dial once more and the noise of the wind blasting in through the holed screen rose to a scream.
"Daddy, please…" Susan began. "There are four of them and…"
"Get back there!" her father shouted. "And keep your head down!"
Meekly, Susan complied. When she was crouching in the narrow well behind him, he called over his shoulder, "Did you see their gun? Was it like mine, with a revolving chamber? Or was it an automatic with a magazine in the butt?"
"I don't know… I… I think it was like yours. Yes, it was."
He nodded and stamped the pedal flat to the floor. The needle mounted inexorably towards the 200 mark as the motor bellowed its challenge into the night. Lights flashed past them on the eastbound carriageway. They howled towards the dark bulk of a truck festooned with red position lights, roared past it, and caught the distant Volkswagen in the beams of their headlamps.
When they were a hundred yards behind the pale green car, Templar throttled back the BMW and stayed in position, swinging the coupe from side to side of the roadway as the dazzling high beams of his lamps raked the fugitive. The Volkswagen was swaying on the wet road surface, rising and falling on its swing axle suspension as the driver coaxed the last ounce of power from the robustly willing motor.
"What are you doing?" Susan called from her unsighted position on the floor.
"Trying to draw their fire," her father replied. "Too dangerous to come alongside while they have two loaded guns in there! But there are only six shots in mine – and if theirs is a revolver too, there can't be more than eight at the most in that. They already used two!"
He swerved violently out towards the center of the road as orange flame stabbed the dark again from each side of the VW. A second time – and a third – the unseen marksmen fired. Fragments of glass erupted inwards from the BMW's shattered screen. Somewhere in front, metal spanged loudly beneath the hood. Templar set his teeth and swung the car again.
A road sign swam up from the dark, flashed past, and was lost in the night. Delmenhorsi, Bremen – 5000 m. They were cutting it fine! After the sixth fusillade spat fire towards them, the colonel accelerated brusquely, sending the BMW careering forward to surge alongside the slower car. There were no more shots from the near side, but a seventh blazed towards them from the lowered rear on the off side. This time, the report was clearly audible and it was instantly drowned in a louder, sharper detonation as the coupe's right tire exploded and wrenched the steering wheel from Templar's hands. The coupe swooped out of control to the right and its fender slammed with shattering force into the side of the Volkswagen just behind the door.
With a shriek of tortured metal the two cars, locked together, slewed across the hard shoulder, spun crazily onto the grass, and came to rest halfway up an earth bank with a clang of twisted steel and the splintering of glass. Breathless with the impact which had jammed the wheel against his chest, Templar thrust open the wide door and allowed himself to fall out on to the wet ground. His gun was already in his hand.
"Keep down!" he yelled to Susan as he crawled towards the crumpled front of his car.
"Daddy!" the terrified girl screamed suddenly from behind him. "Look out…! Behind you!"
The army man flung himself around into a sitting position. The lights of the wrecked BMW had been extinguished in the collision but the Volkswagen's still canted uselessly up into the sky. In the dim back reflection from the beams, he saw the sinister figure of Heinz clambering onto the curved roof of the vehicle. The light glistened dully on the barrel of the revolver pointing straight at him over the hood of his own car. Templar's right hand flashed up gripping the tiny target pistol. Fully extending his arm, he pressed the trigger.
There was a stab of orange-blue flame, a sharp coughing explosion, and the German youth staggered back clutching his arm and fell to the ground as the heavy revolver spun away into the dark. The steel jacketed slug had caught the cylinder of the gun and torn it from his numbed hand!
The colonel scrambled to his feet. Klaus and Stefan were advancing menacingly towards him around the battered front of the coupe. Each of them held a squat, leather-covered blackjack in his upraised hand. Okay, Templar thought grimly, pocketing his gun and preparing for the next attack. When outnumbered in a rough-house, go back to first principles. Dispose of at least one adversary before the fight has really started. It gives the opposition a false sense of your strength and at the same time reduces the odds!
As the thought formed in his mind, his trained eyes spotted an opportunity. Stefan had approached a shade too close to him… Quick as an adder's tongue, his left foot snaked out to connect with the boy's kneecap, Stefan howled with pain and jack-knifed nearer as his body involuntarily doubled up. Templar elbowed the youth's jaw, judo fashion, and whirled to meet Klaus, dodging to one side as the wicked blackjack thudded agonizingly into the muscle of his shoulder. As Stefan slumped to the ground, the American's fist thudded to the bulky youth's jaw but Klaus simply shook himself and the hand holding the blackjack again.
Heinz had now reappeared with a length of bicycle chain dangling from his good hand. Templar had just time to dance out and lance three lefts to Klaus' body before the chain flailed out at him like an iron whip. Instinctively, he threw up a protective arm, which kept the murderous weapon from connecting with his head, but even so it seared across his bicep, the pain robbing him of breath and numbing the arm from shoulder to wrist. Agony flamed behind his eyes as the blackjack slammed into his neck. And then Stefan was in the fight again, hanging on to his undamaged arm, pummeling and striking against his inner thigh. As he managed with a supreme effort to wrest his arm free and jolt the elbow back against solid flesh, he saw from the corner of his eye a faint gleam of light reflected on the chain as it was flourished again.
There was another flare of pain as the blackjack struck his head – and then he gave a great upwards heave… to go abruptly limp at its zenith and plummet to the wet earth. He heard an anguished yelp as the chain found an unintended victim, and then he was hurling himself sideways against Heinz's legs, grasping them above the knees as he went. For a moment the German teetered upright, and then he came down on Templar.
When her father was hurled across the hood of the car, Susan started up, her hand flying to her mouth and it was then she saw the shadowy figure scrambling hastily up the bank with three heavy camera cases slung over its shoulder on straps. Lisa was getting away with the incriminating films!
Without another thought, the teenager shouldered open the door and dashed after her. There was a ploughed field at the top of the bank and the fleeing blonde was already some way ahead, her slender body a blur against the night. The ground was soft and full of clay, drenched by the rains of the past few days, and the sticky clods adhering to the high heels of her boots, allied to the hampering effect of the tight leather skirt, impeded Susan's progress as she squelched frenziedly in pursuit. Finally, however, her lungs bursting, the young American overtook the escaping girl and flung herself in a football tackle at her pounding legs. Lisa crashed to the wet earth with all the breath knocked from her body. Dragging herself to her hands and knees, covered with mud, Susan grappled with her but she was unprepared for the fury of the German girl's assault. Nails raked viciously across Susan's cheek. A bony knee slammed savagely into her belly.
Her head was twisted agonizingly back as fingers tangled brutally in her dark hair. The next moment she had been flung on to her face and Lisa was sitting triumphantly astride her shoulders, forcing her mouth and nose mercilessly down into the waterlogged soil. Susan squirmed and writhed desperately, bucking her body frantically in a vain attempt to shake free of the cruel hands at the nape of her neck. Her mouth and nose were clogged with the sticky mud. She was unable to breathe. But still the relentless pressure forced her face farther and farther into the suffocating wet soil. She could hear her heart hammering furiously in her chest. There was a terrible pain in her head and a roaring in her ears that threatened to engulf her… and then suddenly there was a sharp smack of flesh against bone, a choked cry from behind her, and the pressure was miraculously released!
Shaking, she levered herself painfully upright. Her father was standing above her, supporting the sagging, unconscious figure of Lisa by the collar of her jacket.
"I keep telling you you should take lessons in judo!" he said mildly.
Flinging the body of the inert blonde across his shoulder, he led the way back to the wrecked car. They were a sorry sight, the two of them. Susan was covered in mud from head to foot, her face bleeding and scratched, the leather dress split across the shoulders. There was an elongated swelling caked with dried blood above Templar's right ear. The great welt from the bicycle chain that had almost paralyzed his arm showed black and blue through his torn sleeve. The skin above one cheekbone was split and blood had coursed down his jaw to stain his shirt. The whole surface of his body was ravaged with cuts and abrasions. But the expression on each of their faces was triumphant. In the light from the Volkswagen's canted headlamps, they saw Stefan groaning feebly on the ground. Heinz and Klaus were still out for the count.
"We'll tie up these gentry and go for the police in a minute," Templar said through swollen lips. "But first there's a little matter to attend to."
Dumping the unconscious Lisa unceremoniously on the ground, he opened the backs of the cameras one by one and ripped out the exposed film, holding it up in the blinding beams of the VW's headlamps to destroy the offending images enshrined in the emulsion.
"There's only one thing I don't get," Susan said shakily. "Why didn't you use the gun again after, that first shot?"
Templar plucked a crumpled unlit cigarette from Heinz's unconscious lips, put it between his own, and lit it. His battered face cracked open into a smile.
"It would have been a little difficult," he said, blowing out a grateful cloud of smoke. "There was only that one bullet!"