“How long have I been here?” Her voice was weak and hoarse.
“They brought you in two days ago. You’ve been unconscious since then. The doctor says it was a miracle. According to everybody who saw the scene of the accident, you should be dead. A service crew came across you and rushed you in here. You have a concussion and a hell of a lot of bruises, but, thank the Lord, there’s nothing broken.” He looked at her, puzzled, and said, “What were you doing up there on that firebreak road?”
Elizabeth told him. She could see the horror onhis face as he lived through the terrible ride with her. He kept repeating, “Oh, my God,” over and over. When Elizabeth had finished, Alec was pale. “What a stupid, terrible accident!”
“It wasn’t an accident, Alec.”
He looked at her, puzzled. “I don’t understand.”
How could he? He had not read the report. Elizabeth said, “Someone tampered with the brakes.”
He shook his head incredulously. “Why would anyone do that?”
“Because—” She could not tell him. Not yet. She trusted Alec more than she trusted anyone else, but she was not ready to talk. Not until she felt stronger, not until she had had time to think.
“I don’t know,” she said evasively. “I’m just sure someone did.”
She watched him and she could read the changing expressions on his face. They went from disbelief to puzzlement to anger.
“Well, we’re certainly going to find out.” His voice was grim.
He picked up the telephone, and a few minutes later he was talking to the Chief of Police in Olbia. “This is Alec Nichols,” he said. “I—Yes, she’s fine, thank you…Thank you. I’ll tell her. I’m calling about the Jeep she was driving. Could you tell me where it is?…Would you keep it there, please? And I’d like you to get hold of a good mechanic. I’ll be there in half an hour.” He replaced the receiver. “It’s in the police garage. I’m going over.”
“I’m coming with you.”
He looked at her in surprise. “The doctor said you must stay in bed for at least another day or two. You can’t—”
“I’m coming with you,” she insisted stubbornly.
Forty-five minutes later Elizabeth checked her bruised and swollen body out of the hospital over a doctor’s protests, and was on her way to the police garage with Alec Nichols.
Luigi Ferraro, the Chief of Police of Olbia, was a swarthy, middle-aged Sardo, with a large stomach and bandy legs. Next to him was Detective Bruno Campagna, who towered over his chief. Campagna was a muscularly built man in his fifties, with an air of solid competence. He stood next to Elizabeth and Alec, watching a mechanic examine the underside of a Jeep that was raised on a hydraulic hoist. The left front fender and radiator had been smashed, and they were streaked with the sap of the trees they had crashed into. Elizabeth had felt faint at her first sight of the car, and she had had to lean on Alec for support. He looked at her with concern. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”
“I feel fine,” Elizabeth lied. She felt weak and terribly tired. But she had to see for herself.
The mechanic wiped his hands on a greasy cloth and walked over to the group. “They don’t build them like that no more,” he said.
Thank God, Elizabeth thought.
“Any other car woulda been in bits and pieces.”
“What about the brakes?” Alec asked.
“The brakes? They’re in perfect condition.”
Elizabeth felt a sudden sense of unreality engulfing her. “What—what do you mean?”
“They’re workin’ fine. The accident didn’t hurt them at all. That’s what I meant when I said that they don’t build—”
“That’s impossible,” Elizabeth interrupted. “The brakes weren’t working on that Jeep.”
“Miss Roffe believes that someone tempered with them,” Chief Ferraro explained.
The mechanic shook his head. “No, sir.” He walked back to the Jeep and pointed to the underside. “There’s only two ways you can fregare—” He turned to Elizabeth. “Excuse me, signorina—screw up the brakes on a Jeep. You can either cut the brake links or you can loosen this nut”—he indicated a piece of metal on the underside—“and let the brake fluid run out. You can see for yourself that this link is solid, and I checked the brake drum. It’s full.”