inspiration. Malone blasted two more high-velocity lead slugs at the
driver of the big Buick, and at the same time the man in the Buick's
rear seat fired at Boyd.

But Boyd had shifted tactics. He'd hit the brakes. Now he came down hard
on the accelerator instead.

* * * * *

The chorus of shrieks from the Lincoln's back seat increased slightly in
volume. Barbara, Malone knew, wasn't badly hurt; she hadn't even stopped
for breath since the first shot had been fired. Anybody who could scream
like that, he told himself, had to be healthy.

As the Lincoln leaped ahead, Malone pulled the trigger of his .44 twice
more. The heavy, high-speed chunks of streamlined copper-coated lead
leaped from the muzzle of the gun and slammed into the driver of the
Buick without wasting any time. The Buick slewed across the highway.

The two shots fired by the man in the back seat went past Malone's head
with a _whizz_, missing both him and Boyd by a margin too narrow to
think about.

But those were the last shots. The only difference between the FBI and
the Enemy seemed to be determination and practice.

The Buick spun into a flat sideskid, swiveled on its wheels and slammed
into the ditch at the side of the road, turning over and over, making a
horrible noise, as it broke up.

Boyd slowed the car again, just as there was a sudden blast of fire. The
Buick had burst into flame and was spitting heat and smoke and fire in
all directions. Malone sent one more bullet after it in a last flurry of
action--saving his last one for possible later emergencies.

Boyd jammed on the brakes and the Lincoln came to a screaming halt. In
silence he and Malone watched the burning Buick roll over and over into
the desert beyond the shoulder.

"My God," Boyd said. "My ears!"

Malone understood at once. The blast from his own still-smoking .44 had
roared past Boyd's head during the gun battle. No wonder the man's ears
hurt. It was a wonder he wasn't altogether deaf.

But Boyd shook off the pain and brought out his own .44 as he stepped
out of the car. Malone followed him, his gun trained.

From the rear, Her Majesty said: "It's safe to rise now, isn't it?"

"You ought to know," Malone said. "You can tell if they're still alive."

There was silence while Queen Elizabeth frowned for a moment in
concentration. A look of pain crossed her face, and then, as her
expression smoothed again, she said: "The traitors are de