As she braked the car to a halt, she cried: 'Get out, Robbie! Get out! No stupid chivalry! Run for your life! Leave this to me!'
Even as her cry echoed down the mountain valley, Barak and Cepicka were both getting out of the Mercedes. Cepicka, who had been at the wheel of the car, was the nearer. As he jumped out on to the road, he drew an automatic from an armpit holster. Robbie knew then that Stephanie was right. This was no time for heroics. Although he was completely ignorant about weapons, he would have given a lot to have been armed and to stand beside Stephanie. But he knew that, however unsatisfactory her relations with her husband might be, she was in no danger of losing her life; whereas his own clearly hung by a thread.
Flinging open the door of the Ford, he scrambled out, stepping on to the road at the same moment as Cepicka drew his gun.
There was not much more than thirty feet between them, but by the time Cepicka had swung round and aimed with his weapon there were fifty. Even then Robbie might have been shot down; but one of his flying feet hit a stone, causing him to stumble sideways. At that second, the Czech's pistol cracked, then it cracked again, but the bullets sang past Robbie.
At the sound of the shots, he threw a swift glance over his shoulder. He saw that Stephanie and Barak were now also out of the cars and standing in the road facing one another. Next moment, he was round the corner of the cliff. In front of him lay a long, down-sloping gradient, several hundred yards in length, before the road passed out of sight round another bend. With a gasp of fear he realized that, running down that open stretch with two gunmen pursuing him, he would not stand a hope. They would wing him for certain and, as he fell wounded in the road, race up to finish him off.
Desperately, he looked right and left for a chance of salvation. To his left lay the precipice, an almost sheer drop of some three thousand feet. Even if it had jutting rocks and scrub on it that would have provided tenuous hand-holds, Cepicka would be upon him and put a bullet into him before he could scramble down his own length. He would lose his hold and, with arms and legs whirling, hurtle into the chasm. To the right rose the twenty-foot-high cliff of rock. For most of its frontage it presented a flat, smooth surface; but in one place, round the corner from the cars, it had a chimney in it—a three-foot-deep gulley, broken here and there with small bushes and tufts of coarse grass growing out from the crevices in it. The chimney was narrow at the bottom, but grew deeper towards the top. It offered the only alternative to being slaughtered on the open road, and Robbie took it.
Hurling himself into the fissure, he seized on stunted bushes of myrtle and clumps of wild thyme and began to haul himself up. Half the plants he grasped broke off or came away under the pull of his weight; but fear lent him such speed that, almost as the twigs of one bush snapped, he thrust up his arm and grasped another. Meanwhile his feet scrabbled wildly on tufts of grass and little ledges of rock, forcing him further upward.
He had nearly reached the top when he heard shouts and screams below him. As he had just secured a firm handhold, he paused to look down. Cepicka stood below him at the foot of the gulley and had just raised his gun to shoot. A few feet away Stephanie, the butt of a small automatic clutched in her right hand, was wrestling with Barak. At that moment Barak wrenched the pistol from her, but she broke free and launched herself at Cepicka. She caught him sideways on, throwing him off balance just as he fired. He swore and hit out at her. She fell in the roadway and Barak lugged her to her feet.
By then, Robbie had reached the summit of the rock. When he again looked down, Barak and Stephanie had disappeared, but their voices could still be heard as they continued to shout abuse at one another round the corner of the cliff. Cepicka, with his pistol thrust back into its armpit holster, had begun to scale the chimney and was coming grimly up, hand over hand.
Robbie stared wildly about him. The top of the rock formed a small, natural citadel about forty feet in width. Round the semi-circle that overhung the road, a ragged line of rounded humps rose up from three to five feet above the level of the uneven floor on which he stood. Behind him rose another tangle of great boulders, spreading, up the slope for half a mile. In some places, there were dark gaps between them large enough to squeeze through; in others they were partially overgrown with wild vegetation.
Frantically, he cast about for big stones or a small chunk of rock that he could grab up and throw down on Cepicka. One hit on his head or face should be sufficient to dislodge him from his precarious hold in the chimney and send him crashing back on to the road. But there were no loose stones. Nothing larger than pebbles was to be seen anywhere within easy reach of where Robbie was standing.
He was left with a choice, either of which might prove fatal. He could run for cover between the great boulders thirty yards away, which meant risking Cepicka's getting to the top of the chimney and shooting him before he reached them; or he could wait where he was until Cepicka appeared, then bank on rushing him before he had a chance to take proper aim.
Deciding on the latter course, Robbie crouched down behind the big stone hump beside which the chimney emerged. As he did so he could hear Cepicka's heavy breathing as he hoisted himself up, only a few feet away. Suddenly an idea came to Robbie. If he could tackle Cepicka while the Czech still needed both his hands to clamber out of the top of the chimney, and had not one free to draw his gun again, he would be caught at a serious disadvantage.
Throwing caution to the winds, Robbie came to his feet and stepped round the buttress of rock just as Cepicka's head appeared above its level. He already had one knee on the ground at the top of the chimney. For an instant, they stared at one another. Cepicka's hand leaped to his gun, but Robbie stooped and seized the weapon before the Czech could aim it. In striving to wrench the pistol from Cepicka's grasp, Robbie stepped backwards, dragging Cepicka after him, up over the edge of the cliff. As the Czech found his feet, he struck out at Robbie with his left fist, catching him a blow on the right ear that made him dizzy. But Robbie had shifted his grip to Cepicka's wrist and gave it such a violent twist that he was forced to drop his pistol. Next moment they had seized one another in a bear-like clinch, and were staggering to and fro across the platform of rock.
In spite of his little paunch and pasty face, Cepicka was very strong and he knew all the tricks. Suddenly he thrust his leg between Robbie's so that his right heel was behind Robbie's left heel, then threw forward the full weight of his powerful shoulders. Robbie staggered, lost his balance and went over backwards. As he fell, he lost his hold. The Czech came down on top of him. Now that Cepicka's hands were free, he used the left to seize Robbie by the throat and raised the right to smash into his face. Just in time, Robbie jerked his head aside. The clenched fist came down with terrific force on the bare rock. Cepicka let out a yell and his whole body twitched with the agony he had caused himself. Robbie seized his opportunity. With a violent upward jerk of his thighs, he threw off his enemy. They both scrambled to their feet simultaneously. Panting as though they had run a mile, they stood a few feet apart, facing one another, poised like wrestlers seeking an opening for a crippling hold.
Blood was dripping from Cepicka's right hand, where he had smashed the side of it on the rock; but, in spite of this handicap, he showed no sign of retreating. His small, pale eyes glared murder into Robbie's. Suddenly he took a pace forward, feinted with his right foot as though to kick, but came down on it and shot out his left. Robbie had acted almost at the same second. His right fist had been aimed at Cepicka's jaw but the Czech threw his head up, and his own movement caused the blow to land on his left shoulder. He was already off balance, so his kick missed Robbie's shin and the force of the blow swung him round. For a moment he swayed, striving to regain his balance, sideways on to Robbie and unable to use his uninjured fist to protect himself. Rushing in, Robbie grabbed him with one hand by the back of the collar, and with the other by the seat of the pants. Exerting all his great strength, Robbie gave one terrific heave, lifting Cepicka as though he were a sack of potatoes. For a moment, he held his enemy high above his head, then threw him over the low battlement of boulders down into the road.