the Count spoke, he realized for the first time that neither the big
curly-headed American nor the big oldfashioned vehicle which towered
over them was armed. He could clearly see the empty gun-mounting in
the turret and his courage came flooding back. Now at last he leaped
to his feet, throwing out his chest, one hand on his hip, the other
aiming the pistol at Jake.
"You are my prisoner" he declaimed once more, then from the corner of
his mouth he growled at the front seat, "Gino, quickly. A shot of me
capturing the American."
"At once, Excellency. "Gino was focusing the camera.
"I protest," shouted Jake, and sidled another few paces towards the
inviting rear doors of the car.
"Stay where you are," snapped the Count and glanced at Gino. "All
right? "he asked.
"get the American to move a little to the right," Gino replied, still
peering into the view-finder.
"A little to the right!" commanded the Count in English, gesturing
with the pistol, and Jake obeyed, for it brought him closer to his
goal, but he was still shouting his protests.
"In the name of humanity and the International Red Cross-"
"I
shall radio Geneva today," the Count shouted back, "to enquire of your
credentials."
"Smile a little, Excellency," said Gino.
The Count burst into a radiant smile and half-turned towards the
camera.
"Then I shall have you shod' he he promised, still smiling.
"If you let this girl die," yelled Jake, "it will be the act of a
barbarian." The smile vanished instantly and the Count scowled darkly.
"And your actions, sir, are those of a spy. Enough talk surrender
yourself" He lifted the pistol threateningly and aimed at the centre of
Jake's chest. Jake felt a chill of despair, as he saw the big Major
reinforce the order by sliding the safety catch of his rifle to the
fire" position and pointing it at Jake's belly.
At this critical moment, the driver's hatch of the armoured car flew
open with a clang -that startled them all and Vicky Camberwell rose to
view, her blonde hair awry and her cheeks burning with anger.
"I am an accredited member of the American Press Association," she
yelled as loudly as any of them. "And I assure you that this outrage
will be reported to the world in every detail. I warn you that-" There
was much more in this vein, and Vicky's anger was such that she could
not remain still, she jumped up and down and flung her arms about in
wild gesticulations for the moment completely oblivious of the fact
that she was bared to the waist.
Her audience in the Rolls was under no such illusion.
Every man of them was a member of a nation whose favourite pastime was
the adoration and pursuit of beautiful women, and every one of them
considered himself to be the national champion.
As Vicky's bounty wobbled and swung and bounced with agitation, the
four Italians gaped half in disbelief and half in delight. The raised
weapons sank and were forgotten. The Major attempted to rise to his
feet in a gesture of chivalry, but was thrust firmly backwards by the
Count. The driver's foot slipped off the clutch and the Rolls bucked
violently and the engine stalled. Gino uttered an oath of approval,
raised the camera, found the film was expended, swore again and opened
the camera without taking his eyes off Vicky, dropped it from clumsy
hands, and abandoned it, grinning beatifically at this blonde vision.
The Count began to raise his helmet, remembered he was now a warrior
and with his other hand threw out a Fascist salute, found he was still
gripping the pistol and did not have enough hands, so he held his
helmet and the pistol to his chest with one hand.
"Madam," he said, dark eyes flashing, his voice taking on a romantic
ring. "My dear lady-" At that moment, the Major tried again to rise
and the Count shoved him back into the seat once more while Vicky
continued her tirade with no diminution in fervour.
Jake was completely forgotten by the Italians. He took four running
steps and dived through the rear doors into the steel cab of the car.
He rolled over and dropped Sara into the space for the ammunition bins
behind the driver's seat, and in a continuation of the same movement he
kicked the doors closed and turned the locking handle.
"Drive!" he shouted at Vicky, although only her backside was visible
as she stood on the driver's seat. "Come on!" and hauled her
downwards so that she sat with a thud on the hard leather seat, still
shouting abuse at the enemy. "Drive!" Jake shouted louder still. "Get
us out of here!" The shocked dismay of the four Italians, as Vicky
disappeared abruptly from view like an inverted jack-in-abox, lasted
for many seconds and held them paralysed by disappointment.
Then the armoured car's engine roared and it bounded forward, straight
at them; swinging broadside at the last moment, it hit the Rolls only a
glancing blow, crumpling the front mudguard and shattering the glass
headlamp, before it tore off in its own dust storm towards the broken
ground beyond the wells.
Castelani was the first to act; he leaped to the ground and raced to
