As Time Goes By Read Online Free

scribbled un observed a private note for Mr. Richard Blaine and left it with the chief reservations clerk, the one who had looked at her so appreciatively when they'd checked in the night before. The note was brief and to the point. "To London." "British Intelligence." "Der Hen ker(?)." "Danger." "Prague." And "Come quickly." It was signed simply, "I."
    That was all. She hoped Rick would understand what it meant, because she didn't.
    She smiled at the clerk as she handed him the note. He looked back at her with the same mixture of awe, admiration, and desire that she had seen in the faces of men since she was fourteen years old.
    "For Mr. Blaine only," she said, gazing into his eyes to make sure he wouldn't forget. "You understand?"
    "You have my word on it, madam," said the clerk, impressed.
    Then she heard her husband's voice in her ear, felt his hand on her arm—"Hurry, Ilsa, hurry"—and she was whisked away.
    The waiting taxi sped them to their destination. They boarded the London-bound plane and took their seats. A pair of young, tough men, Slavs by the look of them, got on with them. They said nothing to Victor, but Ilsa knew they were watching them.
    As the plane took off, she brought her mouth to her husband's ear: "Victor," she said, "let me help you this time. Please." Laszlo, however, stared straight ahead, his mind not on the present, but on the future.

 
     
     
    C HAPTER T HREE

     
     
     
     
     
    Rick reached across the seat and shoved Renault hard. "Get down, Louie," he barked. "I've seen a man get his head blown off, and believe me, it isn't a pretty sight."
    Renault ducked. "I happily defer to your obviously greater experience in these matters," he said.
    From the backseat, Rick could see that the two cars were about three hundred yards apart. As the Buick roared along, the Mercedes no longer seemed to be closing on them, but neither was it receding.
    "What have they got, Sam? Tommies?" asked Rick as their pursuers' bullets whizzed by.
    "Prob'ly some new Krupp thing," demurred Sam, two hands on the wheel. "Tommies is old now, boss, or ain't you noticed?"
    "Yeah, well, I wish we had one."
    "You and me both," said Sam, eyes straight ahead.
    "What've we got?"
    "Your forty-five, Sacha's thirty-eight, my twenty- two ... what you got, Mr. Louis?"
    Renault unholstered his sidearm and looked at it, as if for the first time. "A thirty-eight," he said. "Not that I've ever had to use it."
    "Except to impress the girls," said Rick.
    Sacha leaned out the window and squeezed off a couple of shots.
    "Cut it out, you idiot!" yelled Rick. "Never let 'em know what you've got until you have to. If they know all we have is pistols, they'll cut us to pieces."
    "Sorry, boss," Sacha said.
    The road to Rabat was pitch dark. The coastal fog made the moon irrelevant. The only problem was that the Buick was in the Mercedes' headlights and not the other way around.
    "Gimme a little distance, will ya, Sam?" ordered Rick. "I'd like to see if I'm getting the horsepower I paid for."
    "You got it, boss."
    Under Sam's urging, slowly but inexorably the Buick pulled away. Three hundred and fifty yards, four hundred yards ... Rick decided it was safe to stick his head out the window.
    "Is there a tumoff anyplace soon?" he shouted over the roar of the slipstream. They might be able to outrun the Mercedes, but then again they might not: a flat, an accident. . . better to get the drop on the Germans if they could and get it over with.
    "There's always a turnoff, if you don't mind jungle," said Sam.
    "Then turn off, damn it"         
    Sam spun the car so hard to the left that Renault thought he would fly out the window. He was amazed to see Rick sitting bolt upright and leaning out of the car as calmly as if he were at the track on a Sunday afternoon, studying a racing form. Except that he had a gun in his hand instead of a pencil.
    "Gimme a count, Sam," said Rick as the car began to rotate.
    "One Mississippi, two Mississippi