`Not for me. Not at my age.'
`You prefer golf?'
`Poker,' Graves said, and looked directly at Wright for the first time.
Wright smiled. `Poker can be very challenging,' he said. `But it's like any other game. If you get too good, you're limited in your opponents.'
`Yes, I've found that.'
`You're good?' There was just the slightest taunt in the voice, the slightest goading.
`Yes, I'm good,' Graves found himself saying.
For a moment the two men exchanged a level, appraising look. Wright broke it; he looked down at the counter. `Still,' he said, `I admire the young, with their exuberance in physical sports. It raises the stakes. You can be hurt, you can be injured. You can even be killed.'
`But when you're young, you don't think of that. It doesn't matter.'
`Oh,' Wright said, `I think it always matters. Dying always matters.'
The salesman came back. `You're in luck, Mr Johnson,' he said cheerfully. `You got the last three tanks. Shall I have them put in your car?'
`That will be fine,' Wright said, smiling.
`You must be out of your mind,' Lewis said. They were back in the car, following the limousine.
`Not at all.'
`I suppose you went up and talked to him.'
`As a matter of fact, I did.'
Lewis smiled. `I know you've been doing this a long time, but still…'
`Look,' Graves said, `we're picking him up later today.'
`But you're teasing him, playing a game…'
`Of course,' Graves said.
The limousine went up Avenue D and pulled to a stop in front of a large hotel. A man came out, bent over the limo, and talked to Wright in the back seat. The conversation lasted several minutes. Finally the man turned and went inside. The limousine pulled away from the kerb.
Graves snatched up the microphone. `701 to 702.'
`702 here.'
`He's all yours from now on. Stick to him. Out.' Lewis looked stunned. `What the -'
Graves pointed to the figure of the man going back into the hotel. `Follow that man and see where he goes. His name is Timothy Drew.'
HOUR 8
`Hold out your hands.'
Peters held out his hands and waited while the supervisor ran the Geiger counter over them. It made a soft clicking sound in the cavernous warehouse garage.
`Stand still.'
He stood and watched as the counter probe was passed over his chest, his abdomen, his legs. It was a little like being frisked.
`Turn around.'
He turned. He heard the counter clicking as it was passed down his spine to his feet.
`Okay. Next.'
Peters stepped aside, and the driver moved forward. As the driver was being checked by the Geiger counter, the dispatcher said to Peters, `First run?'
`Yes,' Peters said.
`Ever done a DC before?'
Peters pointed to the counter. `Not like this.'
`What've you done, explosives?'
`Yes.'
`This is easier than explosives or flammables,' the dispatcher said. `We've got a regulation for two men in the cab, and another for staying under forty-five miles an hour. That's it. We can take all the roads, all the tunnels and bridges. Much easier than explosives.'
Peters nodded. `What exactly is it?'
The dispatcher consulted his clipboard. `Mostly hospital supplies. Cases of intravenous saline, twelve quarts to the case, thirty cases in all. Cases of pennicillin G, forty-eight ampoules to the case, fifteen cases in all. And two rad cartridges.'
`Rad cartridges?'
`Two bars of plutonium-238 oxide. That's a radioactive isotope. One thousand grammes each - they're packed in lead cylinders.'
`That's our dangerous cargo?' Peters asked.
`You bet,' the dispatcher said.
The driver finished his check and came over to join them. `What was that all about?'
`Insurance,' the dispatcher said. `You have to be cleared before exposure to the cargo., in order for our coverage to be effective. We should also do a blood test, but we don't bother.' He turned to Peters. `Reeves, this is your rider, Peters. Peters, Reeves.'
Reeves shook hands with Peters. As he did so he gave him a slightly surprised look, as if something were mildly wrong.
The dispatcher nodded across the warehouse. `Truck's over there,' he said. `Have a good trip.'
Peters blinked in the sun and put on his sunglasses. Beside him, Reeves sighed. `Bright day,' he said.
`Sure is.'
`You new at this?'
`Yeah.'
`What'd you do before?F
'Aeroplane tail assembly. Lockheed, in Palmdale.'
`Tail assembly, huh?' Reeves said, and laughed loudly.
`They laid me off.'
Reeves stopped laughing and nodded sympathetically. `Rough,' he said. And then after a moment, `Laid off the tail assembly.' And he chuckled some more.
Peters smiled. He felt confident about Reeves, who was fat and sloppy and casual - and fifteen years his senior. There wouldn't be any difficulty.
`Well,' Reeves said, `since you're new at this, you might as well learn the ropes.'. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a plastic bottle of yellow pills. He handed it to Peters.
`What's this?' Peters asked.
`Dex. Go ahead, take one. Feel terrific.'
Peters shook a pill into his hand and paused. Reeves took one, then reached into his leather jacket and produced a flask.
`Wash it down with this,' he said. `Vodka. No smell.' He handed Peters the flask.
Peters dropped the pill from his hand, letting it roll down between the seats. He pretended to swig from the flask, then returned it to Reeves.
`You'll learn,' the driver said, and smiled.
Peters nodded and leaned forward slightly in his seat. That way he could see out the side-view mirror and keep an eye on the black Ford sedan that had been following them for the past fifteen minutes.
Ten minutes later they were on the San Diego Freeway, moving down the far right lane. They passed a green and silver sign: HACKLEY RD EXIT 1 MILE. Peters shifted in his seat. Reeves was talking about his children.
`They're good kids,' he was saying, `but they don't show proper respect. All this screaming about the President, all this revolution talk, it makes me want to -,
'We get off at the next exit,' Peters said.
`No,' Reeves said, `we don't stop for another -' He broke off.
Peters had taken the pistol from the pocket of his leather jacket.
`Hackley Road,' Peters said quietly. `Turn off the ramp and go half a mile east. You'll see a small dirt road. Turn right onto that.'
`I'll be goddamned,' the driver said.
They came to Hackley Road and turned off on the exit ramp. They drove east. Peters glanced in the side mirror and saw that the Ford sedan was still following.
`I should have known,' Reeves said.
`How's that?'
`I should have known something was wrong when I shook hands. It's your hands.'
`What about them?'
`They're as soft as a baby's ass,' Reeves said. `You never worked in your life.'
`Turn right, up here,' Peters said.
It went smoothly. Reeves pulled the truck onto the dirt road and stopped in a clump of eucalyptus trees. Peters made Reeves get out and lie on his stomach on the ground, with his hands over his head.
Reeves said nothing for a long time. Finally he said, `You going to shoot me?'
`Not if you stay quiet,' Peters said.
The Ford sedan drew up behind the truck and three men, all wearing children's Halloween masks, jumped out. A driver remained at the wheel. Nobody spoke as the men opened the back of the truck, climbed up on the hydraulic tailgate, and went into the cargo area.
`Nice and easy,' Peters said, standing near Reeves with the gun. `Nice and easy.'
Reeves did not move.
The men emerged from the truck carrying two small, extremely heavy boxes. Peters could see the triple-blade radiation symbol on the boxes. The men closed the truck and started to load the boxes into the car. One of them came over and expertly tied and gagged Reeves with adhesive tape.