Suddenly Manfred released her. He stepped back, bunched his fist and swung it round-armed into her cheek.
Her head jerked back and cracked against the wall. He drew back his fist and hit her again. She felt the quick warm burst of blood spurt from her nose, and staggered through the door beside her into the dining-room. She was dizzy from the blows and she fell against the heavy stinkwood table.
Manfred was close behind her. He charged her, sending her sprawling backwards onto the table. He was on top of her, both his hands at her throat.
'I'm going to kill you, you whore,' he wheezed. His thumbs hooked and pressed deep into the flesh of her throat. With the frenzied strength of despair, Terry clawed at his eyes with both hands. Her nails scored his face, raking long red lines into his flesh. With a cry Manfred released her, and backed away holding both hands to his injured face, leaving Terry lying gasping across the table.
He stood for a moment, then uncovered his face and inspected the blood on his hands.
'I'll kill you for that!' But as he advanced towards her, Terry rolled over the table.
'Whore! Slut! Bitch!' he screamed at her, following her around the table. Terry kept ahead of him.
There were a matched pair of heavy Stuart crystal decanters on the sideboard, one containing port, the other sherry. Terry snatched up one of them and turned to face Manfred. She hurled the decanter with all her remaining strength at his head.
Manfred did not have time to duck. The decanter cracked against his -forehead, and he fell backwards, stunned. Terry snatched up the report and ran out of the dining-room, down the passage, out of the front door and into the garden. She was running weakly, following the driveway towards the main road.
Then behind her she heard the engine of an automobile roar into life.
Panting wildly, holding the report, she stopped and looked back.
Manfred had followed her out of the house. He was behind the steering wheel of joy's Alfa Romeo. As she watched he threw the car into gear and howled towards her, blue smoke burning from the rear tyres with the speed of the acceleration. His face behind the windscreen was white and streaked with the marks of her nails, his eyes were staring, insane, and she knew he was going to ride her down.
She kicked off her shoes and ran off the driveway onto the lawns.
Crouched forward in the driver's seat of the Alfa, Manfred watched the fleeing figure ahead of him.
Terry ran with the full- hipped sway of the mature woman, her long legs were tanned and her hair flew out loosely behind her.
Manfred was not concerned with the return of the geological report, its existence was no longer of significance to him. What he wanted was to completely destroy this woman. In his crazed state, she had become the symbol and the figurehead of all his woes. His humiliation and fall were all linked to her, he could exact his vengeance by destroying her, crushing that revolting warm and clinging body, bruising it, ripping it with the steel of the Alfa Romeo's chassis.
He hit second gear and spun the steering-wheel. The Alfa swerved from the driveway, and as its rear wheels left the tarmac, they skidded on the thick grass. Deftly Manfred checked the skid and lined up on Terry's running back.
Already she was among the Protea bushes on the lower terrace. The Alfa buck-jumped the slope, flying bird-free before crashing down heavily on its suspension. wheels spun and bit, and the sleek vehicle shot forward again.
Terry looked back over her shoulder, her face was white and her eyes very big and fear-filled. Manfred giggled. He was aware of a sense of power, the ability to dispense life or death. He steered for her, reckless of all consequences, intent on destroying her.
There was a six-foot-tall Protea bush ahead of him, and Manfred roared through it, bursting it asunder. Scattering branches and leaves, giggling again, he saw Terry directly ahead of him. She was still looking back at him, and at that moment she stumbled and fell onto her knees.
She was helpless. Her face streaked with tears and blood, her hair falling forward in wild disorder, kneeling as though for the headsman's stroke. Manfred felt a flood of disappointment. He did not want it to end so soon, he wanted to savour this sadistic elation, this sense of power.
At the last possible moment he yanked the wheel over and the car slewed violently. It shot past Terry with six inches to spare, and its rear wheels pelted her with clods of turf and thrown dirt.
Laughing aloud, wild-eyed, Manfred held the wheel hard over, bringing the Alfa around in a tight skidding circle, crackling sideways through another Protea bush.
Terry was up and running again. He saw immediately that she was heading for the changing rooms of the swimming pool among the trees on the bottom lawn and she was far enough ahead to elude him, perhaps.
'Bitch!' he snarled, and crash-changed into third gear, with engine revs peaking. The Alfa howled in pursuit of the running girl.
Had Terry thrown the bulky report aside, she might have reached the brick change rooms ahead of the racing sports car, but the report hampered and slowed her. She still had twenty yards to cover, she was running along the paved edge of the swimming-pool, and she sensed that the car was right on top of her.
Terry dived sideways, hitting the water flat on her side, and the Alfa roared past. Manfred trod heavily on the brakes, the Michelin metallic tyres screeched against the paving stones, and Manfred leapt out of the driver's seat the moment the Alfa stopped.
He ran back to the pool side. Terry was floundering towards the far steps. She was exhausted, weak with exertion and terror. Her sodden hair streamed down over her face, and she was gasping open-mouthed for air.
Manfred laughed again, a high-pitched, almost girlish giggle, and he dived after her, landing squarely between Terry's shoulder blades with his full weight. She went under, sucking water agonizingly into already aching lungs, and when she surfaced she was coughing and gagging, blinded with water and her own wet hair.
Almost immediately she felt herself seized from behind and forced face down into the water. For half a minute she struggled fiercely, then her movements slowed and became weaker.
Manfred stood over her, chest deep in the clear water, gripping her around the waist and by a handful of her sodden hair, forcing her face deep below the surface. He had lost his spectacles, and he blinked owlishly. The wet silk of his shirt clung to his upper body, and the water had slicked his hair down.
As he felt the life going out of her, and her movements becoming sluggish and slow, he began to laugh again. The broken, incoherent laughter of a madman.
'Dan!' joy pointed off through the trees. 'That's my car down there, parked by the swimming-pool!'
'What the hell is it doing there?' 'There's something wrong, Terry wouldn't drive through her beloved garden, unless there was!' Dan braked sharply and pulled his Jaguar to the side of the driveway.
'I'm going to take a look.' He slid out of the car and started off across the lawns. joy opened her own door and trotted after him.
Dan saw the man in the water, fully dressed, intent on what he was doing. He recognized Manfred Steyner.
'What the hell is he up to?' Dan started running. He reached the edge of the pool, and suddenly he realized what was happening.
'Christ! He's drowning her,' he shouted aloud, and he sprang into the water.
He did not waste time struggling with Manfred. He hit him a great open-handed, round-armed blow, that cracked against the side of Manfred's head like a pistol shot and it sent him lurching sideways, releasing his grip on Terry.
Ignoring Manfred, Dan picked Terry from the water like a drowned kitten and waded to the steps. He carried her out and laid her face down on the paving. He knelt over her and began applying artificial respiration. He felt Terry stir under his hands, then cough and retch weakly.
joy came up at the run and dropped on her knees beside him.
'My God, Dan, what happened?'
'That little bastard was trying to drown her.' Dan looked up from his labours without interrupting the rhythm of his movement over Terry. She spluttered and reached again.
On the far side of the pool Manfred Steyner had dragged himself from the pool. He was sitting on the edge with his feet still dangling into the water, his head was hanging and he was fingering the side of his face where Dan had hit him.
On his lap he held a wet pulpy mess that had been the geological report.
'Joy, can you take over here? Terry's not too far gone, and I want to get my hands on that little Hun.' joy took Dan's place over Terry's prostrate form, and Dan stood up.
'What are you going to do to him? 'Joy asked.
'I'm going to beat him to a pulp.'
'Good show!' joy encouraged him. 'Give him one for me.' Manfred had heard the exchange and as Dan ran around the edge of the pool he scrambled to his feet, and staggered to the parked Alfa. He slammed the door and whirred the engine to life. Dan was just too late to stop him. The car shot forward across the lawns, leaving Dan running, futile, behind it.
