It had a small courtyard with stables which had been converted into garages. Still panting, he came to a halt midway across the entrance to the yard, arrested by the lights of a car that was just being driven out. His head was above the level of the car lamps, so he could see clearly the couple in it. As it pulled up to avoid running him down, he saw that it was the Ford, and that Stephanie was at the wheel. A second later, he recognized the man beside her. It was Vaclav Barak.
16
The Biter Bit
Robbie stood rooted to the spot. The sight of Barak sitting beside Stephanie in the car left him utterly confounded. How did they come to be together? Could that be accounted for by some strange coincidence, or were they old acquaintances? And where could they have been going? But perhaps she was not driving him of her own free will. Perhaps he had come to the hotel and threatened her in some way.
Next moment there came confirmation of this last idea. The door of the car was flung open and Barak jumped out. To Robbie the inference was clear. Whatever his enemy's plan might have been, his own unexpected arrival on the scene had nipped it in the bud.
For the first time in his life Robbie saw red. Barak had threatened him with a beating up. Stoll and those other thugs at the Villa Dione were under his orders. It must have been he who arranged for them to lie in wait there. No doubt he had counted on their victim being by now half-dead in a ditch. But that was far from being his worst offence. Somehow he had got hold of Stephanie and had theatened or lied to her. He had been caught in the very act of forcing her to drive off with him. Why, remained a mystery. But it could only be that he had some evil design in mind. The thought that he had meant to harm her drove Robbie berserk. As Barak slammed the door of the car, Robbie leapt at him.
Sudden fear showed in Barak's eyes. Spinning round, he dashed back towards the yard. Robbie raced after him, thinking he meant to head for the side-door of the hotel in the hope of securing protection from some of the staff who might be in the kitchen quarters. But the Czech was swift in wit as well as action. As he came level with the rear of the Ford, he dodged behind it and put out his foot. Robbie tripped over it, flung out his arms and measured his length on the ground.
His arms were badly scraped on the cobbles and the breath half driven from his body. With a gasp, he pulled himself to his knees, then to his feet. By the time he was up, Barak had darted round the far side of the car and was out in the street. Sobbing now, not with pain but with rage, Robbie gave chase.
Barak had gained a fifty-yard start and was running hard along the waterfront. There were few people about for, although it was not late, the April night was chilly; so the patrons of the few small caf£s were drinking inside them. Only a young couple, arm in arm, and a solitary fisherman turned to stare as Robbie pounded past them in full pursuit of his enemy.
After covering a hundred and fifty yards, Barak swerved round a corner up a street that led into the centre of the town. But it was a side-street and deserted, except for one old woman. The Czech's legs were long, but Robbie's were longer. When he turned the corner, he had decreased his enemy's lead by half. As the crash of Robbie's flying footsteps grew louder in Barak's ears, he cast a swift glance over his shoulder, ran on another twenty paces, then dived into an alley. Fearing that, if the alley led into several others, he might lose his enemy in the darkness, Robbie forced himself into an extra spurt. Next moment, he was in the entrance to the alley. The narrow passage was shrouded in gloom. The starlight was sufficient for him to see that it was about sixty feet in length and ended in a high wall. But it was empty.
No lights showed in the buildings on either side. Unless a door had been open, Barak could hardly have had time to gain admittance to one of the houses, or to a yard. That meant there must be a turning at the end of the alley. Drawing his breath in gasps, Robbie raced on. When he had covered another thirty feet, the shadows ahead dissolved. He was right. The alley took a right-angle turn to the left, back towards the waterfront. Brushing the wall at the corner with his shoulder, he swerved round it. His heart gave a bound. The turning was a cul-de-sac, only twenty feet long, and Barak stood there, trapped in it.
Without pausing to draw breath, Robbie sprang at him and struck out at his face. Barak dodged the blow and clinched with him. Seizing Barak by the arms, he broke his grip, then flung him with all his force against the wall. For a moment, the tall Czech stood spread-eagled against it, half-dazed by the shock. Robbie hit out at his head again, but again he dodged the blow. Lurching forward, he tried to kick Robbie in the groin. Swerving sideways, Robbie took the kick on his thigh, then he stepped back and, with a murderous grin, took a swift survey of his enemy.
This was his second fight. He had learned by now that windmill blows were rarely effective, and that much better results could be achieved by thinking first at what part of one's opponent to strike. He realized, too, that this time it was not he who was trying to escape; so time was on his side and, as he was much more powerful than Barak, he had him at his mercy.
Suddenly Barak dived sideways, but he was so close-pressed against the wall that with one swift step Robbie had crowded him back again. Robbie then went in to the attack. Feinting with his left at Barak's stomach, he drove his right into his face. The blow took him full in the eye. With a wail, he threw up his open hands to fend off further blows and cried:
'Have mercy! Not my face! Please, not my face.'
'Mercy, you rat!' Robbie snarled. 'You'll be lucky if I don't kill you! And you're vain of your face, eh? Then I'll do to it what you threatened to do to my body.'
For three good minutes he let his fury have full play. Cornered and confronted with Robbie's superior strength and furious rage, Barak had already gone to pieces. Fear robbed him of the power to make more than a feeble attempt to protect himself and, when he started to shout for help, Robbie silenced him by a blow in the mouth that loosened several of his teeth. Three times he slid moaning to the ground. Three times Robbie hauled him upright again by his collar for further punishment. When Robbie at last let him drop, he was still conscious; but his face was covered with blood, both eyes were blacked, his mouth was badly cut and his nose broken.
Staring down at him, Robbie muttered: 'That will teach you to set your thugs on me. And if I ever catch you trying anything on Miss Stephanopoulos again, I'll kill you.'
Turning away, he set off back to the hotel. It was only about five minutes' walk and, as he had done the outward journey at & headlong pace, when he got there he had been away from it not much more than ten. Even so, he was surprised to see the Ford standing outside it, and Stephanie still sitting at the wheel.
When he was within a few paces of the car she caught sight of him, leaned over and threw open the door. The car was not immediately in front of the lit porch of the hotel, so the light inside it was too dim for him to see her face distinctly. But her voice held a mixture of relief and anxiety as she exclaimed:
'Oh, Robbie! Thank Gfcd you're safe. Whatever has been happening? I've been terribly worried. I still am.'
'You've no need to be now,' he replied. 'But why are you still out here, sitting in the car?'
'I was waiting to , . . I thought you might want to get away in a hurry.'
'Then it was sporting of you to stand by. But I don't; so run back into the garage and we'll go into the hotel.'
'No.' She shook her head. 'I want to hear what has been going on. There are some people sitting in the lounge, and it's such a small one that we can't possibly talk there. Out here we can't be overheard.'