Queen Victoria's Revenge by Harry Harrison Read Free Book Online

the walls of this revetment but since it had obviously been built to shield an airplane from heavy bomb fragments, the screaming bullets had no effect. After a great deal of shouting and pushing Ramon managed to stop the firing. In the resultant silence an amplified voice could clearly be heard.
    â€œThis is the police. You are involved in the commission of a serious crime and have fired upon us. You will surrender at once.”
    The only response to this were some colorful Gaelic and Spanish oaths and a few more shots.
    â€œQuickly. Out of the plane before they return the fire,” Ramon shouted. Angus looked at him with scorn.
    â€œThe police have no guns. But they do have radios, which is worse. Let’s unload. We have the two vehicles and we’ll rendezvous as planned…”
    â€œWe must have hostages to prevent capture.”
    â€œIt’s not wise.”
    â€œIt’s the wisest thing we can do. We’ll take the girl and the FBI man, one in each car. The police won’t dare stop us.”
    The big Scot started to protest, then shrugged. “All right—but let’s go now!”
    â€œEveryone out!” Ramon ordered and there was a dive and struggle in the entrance. Before leaving he snapped open the suitcase and took out a bundle of hundred dollar bills and threw it to Jorge with a sharp order. Angus scowled at this, but said nothing. Jasmin screamed in ineffectual protest as she and Tony were bundled swiftly down the ladder. The last he saw of her was when she was being pushed into the back of the high, thin truck labeled ACME STEAM LAUNDRY along with most of the Cubans. The newly arrived Scot jumped behind the wheel of an elegant maroon Rolls-Royce. Angus pushed Tony into the front seat next to him, then climbed in himself. Ramon was wedged in the center of the back seat with one of his Cuban gunmen on each side of him. The suitcase with the money was on his lap, clutched tightly. The instant they were all in place the engine hummed to life and the car surged smoothly down the runway and away, while the truck vanished in the opposite direction.
    â€œThe truck is slow,” Ramon said, looking back out of the rear window. “It can be followed, seen, stopped…”
    â€œNot to worry,” Angus reassured him. “They only have eight miles to go, it’s all been worked out. There is a bit of forest there with a narrow track. The van will block it, it’s stolen in any case, while they get away in the other cars. A half mile after that and they’ll be on the M2 motorway and well on their way. We’ll be doing the same thing a bit further on.”
    The skyjackers seemed reassured by this, but Tony wished they wouldn’t talk so graphically. He knew perfectly well what happened to hostages who knew too much. Sinking lower in the seat he tried to think himself invisible. With effortless ease the big car slid silently along the narrow track between the hedges, then twisted around a corner to an even narrower road that ran beside a high stone wall. A right-angle turn brought them into a lane covered by arching trees and revealed a farm tractor sideways across the road before them.
    Tony had a split second to brace himself against the dash as the brakes locked and they screeched to a shuddering halt with the bumper lightly touching the high tractor wheel.
    On the instant both Scots turned and dived into the rear seat. By accident or design they both used Tony’s shoulders as launching pads. Large hands grabbed and pushed hard and he was forced down and out of the seat. A thrashing boot caught him in the back of the head, steel hobnails biting deep, and he ended up twisted and feeling halfbroken, dazed and gasping, jammed under the dash with his legs splayed out on the seat above him.
    As in a nightmare he saw great ugly men loom up on all sides of the car, staring through the windows, tearing open the doors in back. They were wielding bicycle