He moved to one side. He called his subordinates into conference, one at a time. One by one they left. Hackett wanted to grind his teeth.
Lucy moved closer to him and said in a low tone, "Everybody's shocked, Jim. They're confused. With time to think things over, something sensible will be done."
"There aren't too many precedents for that," said Hackett.
It did not look promising. Hackett himself was dazed by the completeness of the evidence that the Greks had lied about themselves, the Aldarians, their purposes, their intentions and, in effect, everything they'd told the people of Earth. And all Earth was rejoicing deliriously because the Greks had made mankind rich and Earth would presently be a paradise for the indolent and unambitious, and everybody had inherited a million dollars. . . .
Presently the FBI man came to Hackett with a road map. "We're giving you a car. Found the same model you had. Took it away from the man it belongs to. Emergency. You and Miss Thale—Doctor Thale—will get in it. You'll take this route. If a car seems to be trailing you—and it will—remember that we'll be behind. Also ahead. You'll turn off here. . . ."
He gave more instructions. Specific ones. Hackett said skeptically, "How do you know they'll follow?"
The FBI man said mildly, "Haven't you ever heard of a double agent? It's being arranged now. Remember, you're in the middle of something that's had the lid down on it, tight. This will work! And if it doesn't, there's no harm done."
"But if it does, Lucy—"
"She'll be safe," insisted the FBI man. "She'll be safe! Until the last two or three minutes there'll be traffic all around you. If we had time we could take still more precautions, but this will work."
Lucy said quietly, "Don't be silly, Jim! And don't say you don't want me to go along. Nobody else would do. And if this does work out, we may get all sorts of information."
"From them?" Hackett said sardonically. "They'll have been lied to, too."
"But we've already learned more than we expected, or they suspect," said Lucy. "Come along, Jim."
Hackett and Lucy had to show themselves. They had to do this and that. It was a task of some complexity to make sure that someone who'd been consulted not less than twice by the Greks the evening before knew who they were and knew that they were about to leave the lift-off site. But presently they got into a car which would almost have deceived Hackett himself. It was the same make and year and color, and very nearly in the same state of needing a paint job, as his own. Lucy got in beside him, and he drove away. Nobody said goodbye. If anyone noticed that they were apparently departing, there was nothing to prove it.
Certainly there was nothing to show that they'd had any part in the uncovering of evidence of Grek bad faith toward the human race. It was improbable, as a matter of fact, that anybody except the specialists called in within the past few hours knew anything about that. If the Greks didn't think of their garbage pit as revealing information they wanted unknown, it wasn't likely that any human allies they'd found would think of it. The only weakness in the plan Hackett and Lucy were to carry out was that somebody —the man who'd said he owned a Daimler—had seen Hackett approach his car and might have seen the explosion. But Hackett, indisputably alive, driving what seemed to be the same car, and matter-of-factly leaving the lift-off site with Lucy beside him.... Under such circumstances the report of his death would seem to be in error, somehow, and measures would be taken to make it come true.
He drove across many dusty acres which had been parking fields the day before and today, and would someday become a cornfield again. There were lights to guide departing cars toward the permanent highways of this part of the country. They went over a quarter-mile of horribly bumpy dirt road. When they came to a single-lane hard-surfaced highway they headed west, as instructed.
They overtook other traffic. Someone in the car next before Hackett winked a flashlight at him. That assured him of an escort ahead. A truck came up from behind and was content not to pass him, but to trail. A flashlight winked from the seat beside the driver. That was assurance, too.
He drove. Presently, at a left-hand curve, he could see another car, and yet others behind it to his rear. The moon was rising now. The car next behind the truck was a limousine. The flashlight winked three times in the truck cab. That verified that the situation was developing as expected.
They drove and drove and drove. Twenty miles west, a panel truck came down a side road and eeled in ahead of the larger, heavy truck. Two road intersections farther on, the big truck turned left and trundled away. A flashlight blinked from the panel truck. It could not be seen, of course, from the limousine. A car behind it turned off. Other cars appeared.
"It's being handled well," said Hackett grudgingly. "The limousine must figure the bomb didn't fire, or that it was put in the wrong car and the wrong man was blown up. They can't figure we're escorted, because our escort's changing all the time. And since everything seems to be going like clockwork, we'll probably pull it off."
Presently Lucy said in a steady voice, "I think we turn left here."
Two cars out of a half dozen before them turned left where a filling station made the road as bright as day for a little space. Hackett turned left. The panel truck behind him turned left after him.
"The others have gone on ahead," said Hackett, again grudgingly. "And it looks quite natural."
The limousine followed the panel truck in Hackett's wake. A motorcycle and sidecar left the gaspump at the filling station. Roaring, it passed the limousine, the panel truck, and Hackett. It went on ahead.
"If that wasn't the limousine we're supposed to bait," said Hackett, "the motorcycle wouldn't have passed us. So we've been informed that everything proceeds according to plan. We've a few miles more to go. Are you getting uneasy, Lucy?"
She shook her head, but he felt that she was tense.
"This is well handled," admitted Hackett again, a mile or so farther on. "We humans can get very much messed up before we decide what to do; but once we've figured out what must be done, sometimes we're pretty good at doing it."
The car went rolling along the up-and-down minor road. Lucy said in a level voice, "Not much traffic here, Jim."
"Still too much for things to be spoiled. It would be logical for them to pull up alongside and blast us as they went by. But that panel truck will block them if they show any signs of trying it. Or they might shoot out one of our tires and stop as if to help us, then do something entirely different. But they'd have to get ahead of the panel truck to do that." He added irrelevantly, "I wonder why they think they're killing us?"
Lucy said nothing.
Miles down this lesser highway the car immediately before them turned right. That was the signal that they were to turn off at the next side road. Hackett did so. The new road went between fields and through a patch of woodland that was plainly visible in the now full moonlight. Hackett pulled something out of his pocket.
"Did they give you a pistol too?" he asked.
She nodded, as if she could not quite trust herself to speak. The panel truck did not follow them in this turn. The car that had been ahead went away. But the limousine did make the last turn Hackett had made. Suddenly the world seemed empty and menacing. For the moment there were only two cars visible anywhere —Hackett's and the limousine which followed it two hundred yards behind. There was no fight except that from the moon and stars. The fields to right and left showed low-growing crops—cabbage, probably—and ahead there was pinewood on either side of the narrow road, which was practically only a track.
The limousine began to close up the distance between the two cars.
"Everybody's left us," said Hackett sourly. "We look like a burnt offering just waiting for a match to be set to it. They've probably decided to take their measures inside the woods yonder. That is, to kill us there."