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
reach the crank handle, shouting at the driver to start the engine. It
fired at the first kick and the Major sprang on to the running board.
'Chase them,' he shouted in the driver's ear, brandishing his rifle,
and once again the driver sprang the clutch and the Rolls leapt forward
with such violence that the Count was tumbled backwards onto the soft
leather seat, his helmet sliding forward over his eyes, his polished
boots kicking to the skies and his trigger finger tightening
involuntarily. The Beretta fired with a vicious crack and the bullet
flew an inch past Gino's ear, so that he fell to the floorboards on top
of his camera, and whimpered with fright.
'Faster!' shouted the Major in the driver's ear. 'Head them off,
force them to turn!' and his voice was louder and more authoritative.
He wanted a clean shot at the few vulnerable points in the car's armour
the driver's visor or the open gun-mounting.
'Stop!' screeched the Count. 'I'll have you shot for this.' Side by
side, the two vehicles pitched and lurched together like a team in
harness, not ten feet separating them.
Within the armoured car, Vicky's vision through the visor was limited
to a narrow arc ahead, and she concentrated on that as she shouted,
'Where are they?' Jake picked himself out of the corner where he and
Sara had been thrown, and crawled towards the command turret.
In the Rolls alongside, Castelani braced himself and raised the rifle.
Even at that close range, five of his shots struck the thick steel hull
with ringing sledgehammer blows and went whining away across the desert
spaces. Only one bullet entered the narrow breech of the gun-mounting.
Trapped within the hull, it ricocheted amongst the three of them like
an angry living thing, splattering them with stinging slivers of lead,
and bringing death within inches before it ploughed into the back of
the driver's seat.
Jake popped his head out of the turret and discovered the Rolls running
hard beside them, the burly Major frantically reloading his empty
rifle, and the other passengers bouncing around helplessly.
