"What's the road like ahead?"
"A fair road, straight and true, now that we've descended the mountain," answered Gope.
We squealed through the turn and hit a straightaway. A curving road branched off ahead. "What's that?" I snapped.
"A winding trail," gasped the driver. "It comes on Bar-Ponderone, but by a longer way."
I gauged my speed, braked minutely, and cut hard. We howled up the steep slope, into a turn between hills.
Gope shouted, "What madness is this? Are you in league with the villains...?"
"We haven't got a chance on the straightaway," I called back. "Not in a straight speed contest." I whipped the tiller over, then back the other way, following the tight S-curves. We flashed past magnificent vistas of rugged peaks and rolling plains, but I didn't have time to admire the view. There were squeals from the odalisques in the rear seats, a gabble of excited talk. I caught a glimpse of our pursuers, just heading into the side road behind us.
"Any way they can head us off?" I yelled.
"Not unless they have confederates stationed ahead," said Gope, "but these pariahs work alone."
I worked the brake and speed levers, handled the tiller. We swung right, then left, higher and higher, then down a steep grade and up again. The pirate car rounded a turn, only a few hundred yards behind now. I scanned the road ahead, followed its winding course along the mountainside, through a tunnel, then out again to swing around the shoulder of the next peak.