The Key to Rebecca - Ken Follett [152]
“Damn it,” Wolff said. “You almost had me.”
They all stared at him in silence.
“Take off that foolish hat,” he said to Vandam.
Vandam removed the kaffiyeh.
“Let me guess,” said Wolff. “Major Vandam.” He seemed to be enjoying the moment. “What a good thing I took your son for insur ance.”
“It’s finished, Wolff,” said Vandam. “Half the British Army is on your trail. You can let me take you alive, or let them kill you.”
“I don’t believe you’re telling the truth,” Wolff said. “You wouldn’t have brought the Army to look for your son. You’d be afraid those cowboys would shoot the wrong people. I don’t think your superiors even know where you are.”
Elene felt sure Wolff was right, and she was gripped by despair. She had no idea what Wolff would do now, but she felt sure Vandam had lost the battle. She looked at Vandam, and saw defeat in his eyes.
Wolff said: “Underneath his galabiya, Major Vandam is wearing a pair of khaki trousers. In one of the pockets of the trousers, or possibly in the waistband, you will find a gun. Take it out.”
Elene reached through the side slit of Vandam’s galabiya and found the gun in his pocket. She thought: How did Wolff know? and then: He guessed. She took the gun out.
She looked at Wolff. He could not take the gun from her without releasing Billy, and if he released Billy, even for a moment, Vandam would do something.
But Wolff had thought of that. “Break the back of the gun, so that the barrel falls forward. Be careful not to pull the trigger by mistake.”
She fiddled with the gun.
Wolff said: “You’ll probably find a catch alongside the cylinder.”
She found the catch and opened the gun.
“Take out the cartridges and drop them outside the car.”
She did so.
“Put the gun on the floor of the car.”
She put it down.
Wolff seemed relieved. Now, once again, the only weapon in the picture was his knife. He spoke to Vandam. “Get out of the car.”
Vandam sat motionless.
“Get out,” Wolff repeated. With a sudden precise movement he nicked the lobe of Billy’s ear with the knife. A drop of blood welled out.
Vandam got out of the car.
Wolff said to Elene: “Get into the driving seat.”
She climbed over the gear stick.
Vandam had left the car door open. Wolff said: “Close the door.” Elene closed the door. Vandam stood beside the car, staring in.
“Drive,” Wolff said.
The car had stalled. Elene put the gearshift into neutral and turned the key. The engine coughed and died. She hoped it would not go. She turned the key again; again the starter failed.
Wolff said: “Touch the accelerator pedal as you turn the key.”
She did what he said. The engine caught and roared.
“Drive,” Wolff said.
She pulled away.
“Faster.”
She changed up.
Looking in the mirror she saw Wolff put the knife away and release Billy. Behind the car, already fifty yards away, Vandam stood on the desert road, his silhouette black against the sunset. He was quite still.
Elene said: “He’s got no water!”
“No,” Wolff replied.
Then Billy went berserk.
Elene heard him scream: “You can’t leave him behind!” She turned around, forgetting about the road. Billy had leaped on Wolff like an enraged wildcat, punching and scratching and, somehow, kicking; yelling incoherently, his face a mask of childish rage, his body jerking convulsively like one in a fit. Wolff, who had relaxed, thinking the crisis was over, was momentarily powerless to resist. In the confined space, with Billy so close to him, he was unable to strike a proper blow, so he raised his arms to protect himself, and pushed against the boy.
Elene looked back to the road. While she was turning around, the car had gone off course, and now the left-hand front wheel was plowing through the sandy scrub beside the road. She struggled to turn the steering wheel but it seemed to have a will of its own. She stamped on the brake, and the rear of the car began to slide sideways. Too late, she saw a deep rut running across the road immediately