secrets and his direct line to Rommel, he threatened to bring about the fall of Egypt; but it was not just that. Vandam was consumed with curiosity about Wolff. He wanted to see the man and touch him, to find out how he would move and speak. Was he clever, or just lucky? Courageous, or foolhardy? Determined, or stubborn? Did he have a handsome face and a warm smile, or beady eyes and an oily grin? Would he fight or come quietly? Vandam wanted to know. And, most of all, Vandam wanted to take him by the throat and drag him off to jail, chain him to the wall and lock the door and throw away the key. He swerved to avoid a pothole, then opened the throttle and roared down a quiet street. The address was a little out of the city center, toward the Old Town: Vandam was acquainted with the street but not with the restaurant. He turned two more corners, and almost hit an old man riding an ass with his wife walking along behind. He found the stxeet he was looking for. It was narrow and dark, with high buildings on either side. At ground level there were some shop fronts and some house entrances. Vandam pulled up beside two small boys playing in the gutter and said the name of the restaurant. T’lley pointed vaguely along the street. Vandam cruised along, pausing to look wherever he noticed a lit window. He was half way down the street when he heard the crackI of a small firearm, slightly muffled, and the sound of glass shattering. His head jerked around toward the source of the noise. Light from a broken window glinted off shards of falling glass, and as he looked a tall man ran out of a door into the street. It had to be Wolff. He ran in the opposite direction. Vandam felt a surge of savagery. He twisted the throttle of the motorcycle and roared after the running man. As be passed the restaurant an MP ran out and fired three shots. The fugitive’s pace did not falter. Vandarn caught him in the beam of the headlight. He was running strongly, steadily, his arms and legs pumping rhythmically. When the light hit him he glanced back over his shoulder without breaking his stride, and Vandam. glimpsed a TfIE KEY TO REBECCA 1″
hawk nose and a strong chin, and a mustache above a moutl open and panting. Vandarn could have shot him, but officers at GHQ did not carry guns. The motorcycle gained fast. When they were almost level Wolff suddenly turned a comer. Vandarn braked and went into a back-wheel skid, leaning the bike against the direction of the skid to keep his balance. He came to a stop, jerked upright and shot forward again. He saw the back of Wolff disappear into a narrow alleyway. Without slowing down, Vandam turned the comer and drove into the alley. The bike shot out into empty space. Vandam’s stomach turned over. The white cone of his headlight illuminated nothing. He thought he was falling into a pit. He gave an involuntary shout of fear. The back wheel hit something. The front wheel went down, down, then bit. The headEght showed a flight of steps. The bike bounced, and landed again. Vandam fought desperately to keep the front wheel straight. The bike descended the steps in a series of spine-jarring bumps, and with each bump Vandam was sure he would lose control and crash. He saw Wolff at the bottom of the stairs, still running. Vandarn reached the foot of the staircase and felt incredibly lucky. He saw Wolff turn another corner, and followed. They were in a maze of alleys. Wolff ran up a short flight of steps~. Vandarn thought: Jesus, no. He had no choice. He accelerated and headed squarely for the steps. A moment before hitting the bottom step he jerked the handlebars with all his might. The front wheel lifted. The bike hit the steps, bucked like a wild thing and tried to throw him. He hung on grimly. The bike bumped crazily up. Vandam fought it. He reached the top. He found himself in a long passage with high, blank walls on either side. Wolff was still in front of him, still running. Vandam thought he could catch him before Wolff reached the end of the passage. He shot forward. Wolff looked back over his shoulder, ran on, and looked again. His pace was flagging, Vandam. could see. His stride was no longer steady and rhythmic: his arms flew out to ei- 158 Ken Follett