the car a burst of fire hit them from behind. The windscreen starred
into a sheet of opaque diamond lacework, the dashboard clock exploded
powdering Shermaine's hair with particles of glass, two bullets tore
'through the seat ripping out the stuffing like the entrails of a
wounded animal.
'Close your eyes,' shouted Bruce and punched his fist through the
windscreen. Slitting his own eyes against the chips of flying glass, he
could just see through the hole his fist had made. The corner was right
on top of them and he dragged the steering-wheel over, skidding into it,
his offside wheels bumping into the verge, grass and leaves brushing the
side of the car.
Then they were through the corner and racing down towards the causeway.
'Are you all right, Shermaine?'
'Yes, are you?' She emerged from under the dashboard, a smear of blood
across one cheek where the glass had scratched her, and her eyes bigger
than ever with fright.
'I only pray that Boussier and Hendry are ready to pull out.
Those bastards won't be five minutes behind us.' They went across the
causeway with the needle of the speedometer touching eighty, up the far
side and into the main street of Port Reprieve. Bruce thrust his hand
down on the hooter ring, blowing urgent warning blasts.
'Please God, let them be ready,' he muttered. With relief he saw that
the street was empty and the hotel seemed deserted. He kept blowing the
horn as they roared down towards the station, a great
billowing cloud of dust rising behind them. Braking the Ford hard, he
turned it in past the station buildings and on to the platform.
Most of Boussier's people were standing next to the train.
Boussier himself was beside the last truck with his wife and the small
group of women around him. Bruce shouted at them through the open
window.
'Get those women into the train, the shufta are right behind us, we're
leaving immediately.' Without question or argument old Boussier gathered
them together and hurried them up the steel ladder into the truck. Bruce
drove down the station platform shouting as he went.
'Get in! For Chrissake, hurry up! They're coming!' He braked to
a standstill next to the cab of the locomotive and shouted up at the
bald head of the driver.
'Get going. Don't waste a second. Give her everything she's got.
There's a bunch of shufta not five minutes behind US.' The driver's head
disappeared into the cab without even the usual polite,' Oui monsieur.'
'Come on, Shermaine.' Bruce grabbed her hand and dragged her
from the car. Together they ran to one of the covered coaches and
Bruce pushed her half way up the steel steps.
At that moment the train erked forward so violently that she lost her
grip on the handrails and tumbled backwards on top of Bruce. He
was caught off balance and they fell together in a heap on the dusty
platform. Above them the train gathered speed, pulling away. He
remembered this nightmare from his childhood, running after a train and
never catching it. He had to fight down his panic as he and Shermaine
scrambled up, both of them panting, clinging to each other, the coaches
