Philippa saw they had completed a half turn and mounted a short flight of steps to emerge at the back of the statue where the crowd was thinnest. Her leg knocked against a low parapet and looking down she saw a sheer drop in front of her. Her hand caught hold of the slender rail, grasping it so tightly that the blood was forced out, leaving her fingers greyish-white, like a corpse… All it needed was one push and there would be nothing between her and death except the jagged rocks. She shrank back, heedless of the gun against her spine.
"Take a last look," Maya said behind her. "Beautiful, isn't it? But so treacherous. No one can fall from here and live."
"You'll never get away with it!"
"Why not? You came to view the city and accidentally slipped. That's what everyone will think - including Lucas…"
"No he won't." Philippa felt calm and curiously detached from her body. If she had to die, she would make certain they had to shoot her. At least then no one would think it was an accident. She turned her head cautiously. A few yards away a group of people were busily snapping the statue; on the other side, seven or eight youngsters were laughing and shouting above the noise of their transistors, while beyond them a mass of people were listening intently to a guide. A man detached himself from the crowd and edged towards her. If she called him would he help her ? And equally important, did he understand English?
"Senhor, help me! Help me!" The cry turned into a whimper as his face came into focus. Roland! A sob tore at her throat. It was more than she could bear to see him here. So he had also decided to be in at the kill…
Feeling Philippa's body grow taut, Maya followed the direction of her gaze, and gave a sharp exclamation. But it was Diegos who spoke.
"What are you doing here? How did you know whereto find us?"
"Your wife told me."
"The fool!"
"She didn't realise what was going on. But she was watching you when you spoke to Maya and she knew you were coming up to the statue. Even a deaf fool can lip-read!"
Diegos cursed vehemently but Roland ignored him and looked at Maya. "I knew you were lying when you agreed to do as I asked."
"I had to agree with you. There was no time to argue."
"We've plenty of time now," Roland replied.
"Maybe we have," Diegos interrupted, "but we've nothing to argue about! The girl must die - there's no other way."
Philippa swayed and Roland put out his hand to her as he turned to Diegos. "How much more money do you want? Isn't double enough for you?"
"Not even treble! I have no desire to lose my good name or my job."
"A pity you didn't think of that before you agreed to spy for me!"
"I would never have agreed if I had known you would turn yellow at the end."
"Am I yellow because I won't agree to murder? For God's sake, man, listen to reason!"
"I am listening to reason - my own!" The gun trembled in Diegos's hand and Philippa trembled with it.
"It's no use, Roland," she whispered. "He's mad! They're both mad!"
"Be quiet!" Maya said, and pinched Philippa's arm viciously.
Philippa gave a cry of pain and Roland lunged forward.
"Stay where you are," Diegos warned. "I'm in no mood for jokes."
"And I'm in no mood for murder," Roland grated.
"There's no other way."
Roland looked at Maya. "This is your doing, isn't it?"
"Why blame me? I'm only trying to help you. Tomorrow, when you come to your senses, you'll thank me."
"I've already come to my senses."
At the tone of his voice Maya stiffened.
"I know you're upset, Roily. It's been an awful day for you. First you found you'd lost my letter and photograph, then you learned about your mother. That's why you're being too emotional. If you weren't, you'd realise that if Philippa were out of the way there'd be no need to leave Rio and start all over again. You'd get the contract and be set up for life."
"At the price of destroying someone else's!"
"You choose a fine time to moralise." Maya's control was beginning to fray. "Go away, darling, and leave this to Diegos and me."
"No!"
"Please, darling. I promise I'll make it up to you."
"How?" he asked contemptuously. "From Paget's bed?"
The beautiful face went blank. "How dare you speak to me like that? Where would you be if I hadn't helped you get started ?"
"We're not discussing my start." Roland spoke with a quiet finality that showed he had already done his thinking. "We're talking about my end."
"But that's what I keep telling you!" she cried. "There needn't be an end if you're sensible. Go home and leave everything to me. I'll come and see you afterwards."
"To pick up your things before you marry Paget ?"
"So that's what Miss Smith has told you!" Maya tossed her head scornfully. "Now I know why you've been so strange. You think I'm in love with Lucas."
"If you weren't, there'd be no need to murder anyone. You're not worried about my getting the contract - you said yourself you've got enough money for both of us. Your only concern is that Lucas doesn't know you copied his tender and gave it to me."
"You're mad!"
"Because I tumbled to you?" he said wearily. "You must want Paget very badly if you'd resort to murder to get him."
Maya stiffened, and for the length of a breath there was silence. Then she moved the gun away from Philippa's side and pointed it in his direction, the drapery of her dress concealing it from any passer-by.
"Don't waste your time threatening me," Roland said. "You wouldn't dare shoot me any more than you intend shooting Philippa. It'd be hard to explain a suicide or accident if there was a bullet in the body! And even if you could throw us both over the side it would still be too much of a coincidence for you to get away with it."
"On the contrary, my dear Roily. If you and your ex-fiancee died together it would make an even better story. All I need tell Lucas is that I suspected his secretary from the start and arranged to have her watched. I'll tell him I told Miss Smith I had proof of what she'd done and that she left me in a state of hysteria and said she was going to see you. Obviously when she got to your apartment she threatened to kill herself, and before you could stop her she ran out, got into a taxi and came up here. You followed her in your car. We'll have to guess what happened when you were up here, but personally I think Miss Smith threw herself over the side and you were filled with such remorse that you jumped after her."
"I doubt if Paget will wear that one," Roland replied.
"Would you prefer it if you were trying to prevent your beloved from throwing herself over and you both slipped and fell?" Maya laughed huskily. "Yes, that's much better. Thank you, darling, you always did have a good imagination! It's a pity you -"
The noise of a transistor blaring out a rumba drowned the rest of her words, and, following on the music came the crowd of youngsters Philippa had seen earlier. They were in even higher spirits, laughing together and jostling anyone in their path. One of them knocked against Diegos and he swore violently. The boy shouted back at him and instantly the entire group joined in, knocking against Diegos deliberately so that he was hard put to it to keep to his feet.
"Run, Philippa!" Roland shouted, and lunging forward, knocked the gun from Maya's hand.
Without pausing, Philippa pushed through the crowd and raced up the steps to the terrace above. As she reached the top she glanced back and saw Roland close on her heels.
"Quick," he said catching her hand, "my car's on the other side."
Several couples were sauntering towards them and he side-stepped out of their path. Looking back over her shoulder Philippa caught a glimpse of Maya.
"They're following," she cried, and began to run on her own.
She was at the far side of the terrace when he caught up with her, pointing wordlessly to the flight of steps leading down to the car park. Most of the people were preparing to leave and it was difficult to move
at more than a snail's pace. Ignoring the protests he aroused, Roland pushed his way through the crowd, dragging Philippa after him. Ahead of them a group of nuns were descending, chattering among themselves and looking, in their black robes, like a group of magpies. One of them decided to take a picture of the others and they started to form themselves into a semi-circle, fanning out across the two lower steps. Roland burst through them like a fox among the hens, banged up against the amateur photographer and sent her camera flying. There were screams of fright, black skirts twirled, white wimples crackled and once more they were running… running… panting for breath yet refusing to stop, knowing only they must reach their car before Maya and Diegos caught up with them.
"Not far now," Roland gasped, and weaved his way in and out among the cars.
Philippa plunged after him. There was an agonising stitch in her side and it was difficult to breathe, but she was afraid to pause even for a second in case she lost sight of the blond head. Round a gleaming Cadillac she went, past a ramshackle Citroen and a small Volkswagen, to come up sharply against the fender of a motorbike. A shooting pain stabbed through her leg and she looked down and saw blood. There was no time to stop and she started running again, skirting past a mound of shiny bicycles and jumping over a scooter that had fallen on its side and lay directly in her path; and all the time afraid to look round, afraid to pause for one split second.
"Over here," Roland shouted, and, through a gap between a charabanc and another car she saw him point to a scarlet Ford. She dashed ahead, banging into a dark-haired little girl and her plump mother. The child went sprawling and rough hands caught Philippa and swung her round to face an irate father.
Even in the whirl of the movement she had time to see Diegos pushing his way through the black garbed nuns. Fear gave her increased strength and with her free hand she pummelled at the man. He relaxed his grip in surprise and she tore free, knocked the child over again as she did so, and raced on.
The door of the Ford was open, the engine pumping in time to her heart, and she fell into the seat, half laughing, half crying.
Not waiting for her to close her door, Roland swung the car round and pressed his foot hard on the accelerator. The door swung wide and the roadway flashed past giddily. Clutching at the side of her seat with one hand, she leaned forward to grasp the handle. The force of the wind kept the door taut and she was nearly pulled out of the car before she managed to close it.
Roland was too intent on the road to notice what had happened, and half a mile sped by as she rubbed her leg and tried to massage away the numbness caused by her tumble against the motor bike earlier on.
"You saved my life," she said at last, her voice a thread of shaky sound.
"Skip it!"
"But you did." As she spoke she glanced to her right and, in the moonlight, saw that the ground fell away steeply, interspersed by jagged ends of tree- trunks and sharp, glinting rocks. "If it hadn't been for you, I'd be dead." she reiterated.
"Don't make me into a hero, Philippa. I'm not."
"You came after me!"
"Because I wanted to find out about Maya. I couldn't believe she… I never thought…"
Philippa was silent. No matter Roland's motives in coming after her, it was the end result that mattered. "All I know," she said, "is that you're here and I'm alive. And if you hadn't come, I'd be dead."
Still gripping the wheel tightly, Roland lifted his eyes to the driving mirror. "Don't speak too soon. Look behind you."
She turned and through the rear window saw headlights coming towards them. "Do you think it's Diegos?"
"Yes. I'd know those lights of his anywhere. He had special ones fitted."
"Can't we go faster?"
"Not on this road."
But even though he denied the possibility, his foot pressed harder on the accelerator and they lurched forward. The road bent sharply to the right and he wrenched the wheel round. The tyres screamed, the car rocked and for one split second the nose of the bonnet was poised high above the guard rail before dropping back with a shudder. Then once more they were plunging downwards. Behind them more tyres screamed their protest and again they were bathed in the menacing gleam of Diegos's headlamps.
"Even if they keep up with us they won't be able to overtake us," she said.
"Not while we're on this hill," he agreed. "But there's a long stretch of road before we get to Rio and they might try something there."
"What do you mean?"
"A bullet in one of my tyres while we're doing this speed and nothing'll stop us going over the side."
"They wouldn't!" she gasped. "Not even an accident can hide a bullet!"
"This sort of accident could. By the time the police got to us all they'd find would be a burnt-out wreck."
Panic rose sharp and fierce and she clutched at Roland's arm. "We can't stay here like sitting ducks," she shouted above the noise of the engine, "we've got to do something."
"I'm doing all I can."
Another bend in the road loomed ahead and beyond it a thin steel fence separated them from a thousand-foot drop. Their car did not decrease speed and she clutched at the sides of her seat, her body tense, her breath held. With a force that reverberated through her head, they swerved sharply round. The wheel spun and the barricades were only inches away as Roland's foot came down hard on the brakes. They shot forward in their seats and had hardly straightened again when they were upon another bend. And all the time there was the smell of burning tyres, the noise of a protesting engine and the lights behind them coming menacingly, purposefully closer.
"How far to the straight stretch?" she asked.
"About a mile."
There was a flash of light on the road in front of them, the car skidded and she shut her eyes tightly. This was it. They had lost. From now on there would be no more running. "We've had a puncture, haven't we?" she said with deadly calm.
"Not yet. But they're aiming for our tyres."
"That's what you said they'd do!"
He laughed grimly. "I didn't need to be a clairvoyant."
"We can't let them get away with it. Where's your gun?"
"I haven't got one. And even if I had, you wouldn't know how to use it. That's one thing they never taught you in Turville High School."
She laughed, and the laughter grew louder and louder, bubbling inside her like a spring that, once released, unwound itself and would not stop.
"Be quiet, Phil!"
"I can't," she gasped, and heard her laughter go on and on, as if it had a life of its own.
Another bend came in sight and Roland turned the wheel hard. She was flung violently to one side, hitting her head sharply on the door. The blow stunned her into silence and she lay where she had fallen, wondering how much longer the journey would last. Suddenly the dimness of the interior was lit by a blue flash. The car jerked as though on a noose and Roland swore loudly.
"They nearly got us that time!"
"Another bullet ?" she asked.
"Yes."
The panic she had expected to feel did not come. Instead she sat up and smoothed her hair. "At least we're giving them a run for their money!"
"The race isn't over yet. Are they still on top of us?"
She glanced round. "We've gained on them a bit. I can see their lights through the trees."
"That means we're one bend ahead of them. I'll try and make the next one as quick as I can. Hang on tight." Again the car leaped forward. "Put your hand on the door."
"Why?"
"I want you to jump out as I slow down."
"No, I won't leave you."
"Don't be stupid. It's your only chance."
"They'll kill you," she cried.
"Don't argue, Phil. Do as I say. The bend's coming up now. As I swerve, open the door and fall out. And for God's sake keep your head down as you go!"
He pulled the wheel hard to the left and then, as it spun violently back, gave her arm a sudden blow. Her hand jerked against the door hand
le. The door swung open and before she could stop herself she had fallen into the road and was rolling down the incline, landing with a sickening jar against the side of a bank. A mist of pain blurred her vision and as it cleared she saw the Ford's rear-lights turn the bend and disappear from sight.
With a moan she sat up and rubbed the side of her head. The glare of headlamps pierced the darkness behind her and remembering Roland's warning she flung herself to the ground as the oncoming car swept into sight, seemed for one dreadful second to be bearing down on her and then raced past.
CHAPTER NINE
For a long while Philippa lay where she had fallen, until the only noise was the sighing of the wind in the trees did she sit up and look around.
Not daring to move until the silence was deep. The darkness, which had seemed so safe when viewed from the interior of Roland's car, now loomed over her like a shroud, turning the damp earth on which lay into her grave.
Hurriedly she scrambled to her feet only realising as she tried to stand how weak she was.
In her fall she had broken the buckle of one sandal, while the other heel had been completely wrenched loose, and she spent a couple of moments searching the road for it before she realised that even if she found it she would be unable to stick it on again. Annoyed at her stupidity, she started to walk downhill. Every few yards the loose strap tripped her up and after it had happened for the third time, she took both shoes off and threw them into the bushes. She had not gone more than a few feet when she regretted her action, for the road which had seemed so smooth when hobbling along it in broken shoes, now showed itself to be made of gravel, grit and sharp pieces of flint. Another hundred yards and the soles of her feet were cut and bleeding, making each step an agony. She paused to catch her breath, then on again, this time on her toes. But the pain was even worse, and she sank to the ground crying.
The noise of a car coming down the mountainside made her struggle up again, and she limped out into the centre of the road and waved her hands for it to stop. But it did not even slow down and she was forced to jump out of the way, landing so heavily on her soles that she almost fainted with the pain. Sobbing angrily, she sat down and dabbed at the cuts with the hem of her skirt. Gradually the throbbing subsided and, with it, her anger, making her able to view the situation with a little more calm.
Rachel Lindsay - Brazillian Affair Page 12