Rendezvous With Danger by Margaret Pemberton

able to slow down to your speed. You collect your car and follow me.’
    Obediently I hurried for my old Morris and joined him a few minutes later. He leaned a blond head out of his window.
    â€˜Ready?’
    â€˜You bet.’
    He laughed and started up the car, and I followed closely behind as we sped through Schwabisch Hall, taking the main road south that led through Nordlingen, Donauworth and to Augsburg. I glanced at the map spread out on the seat beside me, noticing with bitter irony that from Augsburg the road led straight south to Oberammergau.
    With an effort I pushed Stephen Maitland to the back of my mind. The whole affair was finished with. I could forget him completely. In time I might even be able to pretend that nothing had happened at all. That is, I could have done if it hadn’t been for Christina. Tears pricked my eyelids and I swore out loud. Damn. Damn everything. I forced myself to concentrate on the road ahead, forced myself to think of anything, anything at all, but the nightmare events of the afternoon.
    As it happened, following Gunther required all my attention. My car was used to pottering along at thirty-five to forty miles an hour, a speed Gunther would have thought of as stationary. He may have considered he was travelling steadily, but my Morris was flat out with the effort of keeping him in sight.
    Within a very short space of time the medieval buildings of Nordlingen, gleaming white against a backdrop of dark fir trees, loomed up ahead of us, Nordlingen’s high tower rising splendidly above its walls and bastions, the steps of its street fountains crowded with young people sitting in the sun. I would have liked to slow down and take a closer look at this Imperial Free city which had remained unchanged for centuries, but Gunther was speeding through it, totally oblivious to its charms. I needn’t have worried. Fate gave me my wish. The cobbled streets proved too much for the Morris, and with strained noises issuing from beneath the bonnet, she gave an ominous shudder and began to lose speed. I pressed my foot down harder but it was useless. We ground ignominiously to a halt.
    Gunther was already lost to view, but a few minutes later the red Mercedes reconnoitred the narrow street, drawing up opposite me. Dejectedly I opened the car door and sat there waiting for him, wondering what else could possibly go wrong.
    â€˜She just stopped,’ I explained.
    Judging by the expression on his face, his thoughts were exactly the same as mine. Exercising admirable self-control he refrained from making any remark and swung the bonnet open, while I tapped my feet listlessly on the cobbles and gazed my fill at the medieval timbered buildings on either side of the street. He slammed the bonnet down impatiently.
    â€˜I can see nothing wrong with it, Susan.’
    â€˜I’m very sorry, Gunther,’ I said miserably. ‘I shall have to stay here tonight and get the wretched thing fixed.’
    He stood silent for a few minutes, gazing malevolently at the car. Then, taking a deep breath, he said, ‘Will it start at all?’
    I turned the ignition and gave it a try. The engine coughed and the car crawled forward slowly. He grunted.
    â€˜That will have to do. I’ll take it to a garage and see what they say before we make any rash decisions. I’m determined our last evening together shall be a memorable one. We don’t want to spend it amid these crumbling ruins if we can help it.’
    It didn’t seem to be the time or place to point out that visitors in their thousands came to enjoy and appreciate the ruins in question, so I silently let him take my place at the wheel.
    â€˜Sit in my car till I get back. With a bit of luck it may turn out to be something quite simple.’
    As luck had seemingly deserted me since I’d set foot on German soil I didn’t share his optimism, but obediently went and sat in the comfort of the Mercedes, suppressing a