on.
Matteo lost no time, gunning the motor as the guard lifted the crossbar to let them through. Then, as they passed the booth, Helen saw one of the other soldiers speak urgently to the man who had stopped them. He whirled and shouted something after the car, and Matteo cursed violently under his breath. He floored the gas pedal, and the Fiat lurched forward as the guard dashed through the door of the booth and leveled his rifle at the fleeing car.
“Get down!” Matteo shouted, grabbing her shoulder and shoving her onto the seat. She soon heard the whine of near misses, and then the explosion of a hit as a bullet cracked the rear glass and sailed over her prone body to exit through the front window.
“Don’t move,” Matteo yelled as she cowered on the floor, her hands over her head, and he yanked down his window to fire back at his antagonist. Helen could hear the sound of other gunfire and knew that some of the soldier’s comrades were joining the attack. Bullets whizzed around the little car, and ricocheted from its metalwork, as Matteo pushed it at merciless speed through the exit lane of the airport and toward downtown San Jacinta.
Helen was flung from side to side on the floor as he made turn after turn, evidently trying to lose the pursuers he had picked up at the exit turnstile. There was unrelieved tension for several minutes as he raced pellmell through the old city, and the Fiat’s well used transmission was strained to the limit from the frequent downshifting. The smell of burning rubber and leaking transmission fluid soon filled the air, but Matteo drove on, maneuvering the car with fierce concentration until he finally said, glancing in both mirrors and then looking at Helen, “I think we lost them.”
Helen unfolded herself from the floor of the car and fell back in her seat. “What happened?” she asked shakily, in a voice that sounded several octaves higher than normal.
“The guard’s buddy recognized me,” he answered. “The first guy was a little suspicious, but when the second came in he nailed me.” He shot Helen an intent glance and added, “You look a little pale.”
“Is that all you can say?” she replied, staring at him. “Does this sort of thing happen to you all the time?”
“Not all the time,” he answered mildly. “Now and then.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her, saying, “Wet this from the canteen and wipe your face.”
Helen took the handkerchief, marveling that he seemed more concerned about her faintness than their recent narrow escape. Not to mention that they were fleeing from the airport police in a rapidly expiring car and would soon have no other means of transportation.
“We’ve got to ditch this car,” he said, as if reading her mind. “It’s on its way out, and besides, the police will have a description by now.” He slowed down to drive through the busy, crowded downtown streets, turning into a narrow lane flanked by rows of stores. He guided the little car into a parking space and left it there, signaling for Helen to get out on her side and follow him. When she reached him he took her hand and they strolled along the street, blending in with the other window shopping young couples.
“They’ll be able to trace us here when they find the car,” Helen said, looking around for policemen, unused to the role of fugitive. “One of the passing citizens is sure to notice the bullet holes in the glass.”
“We’ll be long gone by then, Dick Tracy,” Matteo replied, grinning at her.
“Oh, really?” Helen replied, amazed at his nonchalance. “How are we getting out of here?”
“You’ll see.”
They continued to walk, and Helen realized that he was scrutinizing the racks of motorbikes parked along the street. Suddenly he halted and said, “Wait for me at the corner.”
Helen went ahead, turning when she reached her destination. She watched as he walked one of the bikes out to the road and jumped on,
Matteo lost no time, gunning the motor as the guard lifted the crossbar to let them through. Then, as they passed the booth, Helen saw one of the other soldiers speak urgently to the man who had stopped them. He whirled and shouted something after the car, and Matteo cursed violently under his breath. He floored the gas pedal, and the Fiat lurched forward as the guard dashed through the door of the booth and leveled his rifle at the fleeing car.
“Get down!” Matteo shouted, grabbing her shoulder and shoving her onto the seat. She soon heard the whine of near misses, and then the explosion of a hit as a bullet cracked the rear glass and sailed over her prone body to exit through the front window.
“Don’t move,” Matteo yelled as she cowered on the floor, her hands over her head, and he yanked down his window to fire back at his antagonist. Helen could hear the sound of other gunfire and knew that some of the soldier’s comrades were joining the attack. Bullets whizzed around the little car, and ricocheted from its metalwork, as Matteo pushed it at merciless speed through the exit lane of the airport and toward downtown San Jacinta.
Helen was flung from side to side on the floor as he made turn after turn, evidently trying to lose the pursuers he had picked up at the exit turnstile. There was unrelieved tension for several minutes as he raced pellmell through the old city, and the Fiat’s well used transmission was strained to the limit from the frequent downshifting. The smell of burning rubber and leaking transmission fluid soon filled the air, but Matteo drove on, maneuvering the car with fierce concentration until he finally said, glancing in both mirrors and then looking at Helen, “I think we lost them.”
Helen unfolded herself from the floor of the car and fell back in her seat. “What happened?” she asked shakily, in a voice that sounded several octaves higher than normal.
“The guard’s buddy recognized me,” he answered. “The first guy was a little suspicious, but when the second came in he nailed me.” He shot Helen an intent glance and added, “You look a little pale.”
“Is that all you can say?” she replied, staring at him. “Does this sort of thing happen to you all the time?”
“Not all the time,” he answered mildly. “Now and then.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her, saying, “Wet this from the canteen and wipe your face.”
Helen took the handkerchief, marveling that he seemed more concerned about her faintness than their recent narrow escape. Not to mention that they were fleeing from the airport police in a rapidly expiring car and would soon have no other means of transportation.
“We’ve got to ditch this car,” he said, as if reading her mind. “It’s on its way out, and besides, the police will have a description by now.” He slowed down to drive through the busy, crowded downtown streets, turning into a narrow lane flanked by rows of stores. He guided the little car into a parking space and left it there, signaling for Helen to get out on her side and follow him. When she reached him he took her hand and they strolled along the street, blending in with the other window shopping young couples.
“They’ll be able to trace us here when they find the car,” Helen said, looking around for policemen, unused to the role of fugitive. “One of the passing citizens is sure to notice the bullet holes in the glass.”
“We’ll be long gone by then, Dick Tracy,” Matteo replied, grinning at her.
“Oh, really?” Helen replied, amazed at his nonchalance. “How are we getting out of here?”
“You’ll see.”
They continued to walk, and Helen realized that he was scrutinizing the racks of motorbikes parked along the street. Suddenly he halted and said, “Wait for me at the corner.”
Helen went ahead, turning when she reached her destination. She watched as he walked one of the bikes out to the road and jumped on,
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