When I didn’t say anything, he elaborated. “Listen, lady. I really am sorry. This is a business to me, and I normally work with good professionals. But it was a rush job; I was in New Orleans on vacation and got the call. I had to pick up a local. He had a good reference; I’m sorry he turned out to be a thug.”
“What the hell do you call yourself?”
“Pilot. I fly merchandise and passengers under dangerous conditions.” He turned on a radar screen and slid a knob back and forth. The scale of it expanded; a green dotted state line appeared at the top of the screen. “We’re pretty safe now. A floater off autopilot isn’t that unusual here, lots of tourists. We’ll have to break a heavy police line to get in Nevada, though. They like to stop you on general principles.”
“I can imagine.”
“We might have some pursuit, though, if you’ve been reported missing. Is that likely?”
I weighed what to tell him, and decided it was in my favor for him not to be too nervous. “Not until about nine o’clock. I’m supposed to show up to play in a band.”
“Seven here, won’t be dark yet. That’s not good. If someone suspects a snatch they’ll put the border guards on alert” He banked the floater to the left and we started flying into the sun. “Think we better come in from the north-west. Let you see the Rockies.”
I was still trembling. “I feel sick. I’ve never hit anybody before.”
“Pretty good for a first try.” He reached across me and opened a small compartment in the dash. “Look in the first aid kit there. Should be some Dramamine and tranks. Water back by the john.”
I took the pills back, stepping over Winchell, resisting the impulse to kick him a few times. The pilot asked me to bring him a sandwich and a beer from the refrigerator.
My bag was on a shelf below the refrigerator. I checked and the Puke-O was missing. But the nineteen gold pieces were still sewed in the bottom lining.
I got myself a sandwich, too, and we ate in fairly companionable silence.
“You’ve already got your hundred thousand?” I asked him.
“That’s right. Cash in advance.”
“And you don’t think you’ll get any more? Five percent of nothing, I mean.”
“That’s possible. Wallace didn’t say why he wanted you snatched. There are other reasons than ransom.”
“If you turn this thing around and take me to Atlanta, I’ll give you thirty-eight thousand dollars in gold.”
He laughed, didn’t look at me. “Not for a million, lady. I have a reputation to protect…. Besides, Wallace might possibly get angry, and have me killed. I’d never fly again.”
“That’s just what I’m afraid of. A friend of mine was murdered and I think whoever did it wants to get me, too.”
“Impossible,” he said. “Roundabout, anyhow. If I wanted somebody murdered in New Orleans, I’d just go down to the waterfront. Ten thousand shitbags who’d stick a knife into you for the price of breakfast at Brennan’s.” He drummed his fingers on the wheel. “How do you come to have so much gold stashed away?”
“It’s for New New York. They use it in electronics. Do you know anything about Wallace?”
“Never heard of him before yesterday. But that’s Las Vegas. People come and go.”
“He couldn’t be the government, could he? U.S. government?”
“What, are you a spy for the Worlds? This is getting deep.”
“The Worlds don’t have spies on Earth. That would be like Philadelphia sending spies to New Jersey.”
“Wouldn’t count on that being true anymore. From the news, it sounds like things are getting pretty rough. You ought to be glad you’re on Earth. Present circumstances excepted.”
“Sure.” Present circumstances included an awful lot besides a little kidnapping. I yawned hugely. The tranquilizer was getting to me.
“Go ahead and take a nap. But if you hear a loud chime, that means you have a half-second to get your arms on the armrests and make sure your head is straight up-and-down on the headrest. This baby can do eight gees on evasive maneuvers.” I got into that position and decided I could sleep that way.
When I woke up it was dark. “How close are we?”
“About two hundred kilometers from the border. We’re flying by radar, about ten meters off the ground.” I could see shadowy landscape flashing by; we were evidently in some sort of a valley, following the twisted course of a river.
“How much longer?”
“Twenty-some minutes. Less if we have to goose it.”
On cue, a voice said, “OREGON STATE POLICE, YOU ARE FLYING WITHOUT LIGHTS.” It seemed to come from everywhere in the floater. The chime went off and I braced myself. “PLEASE IDENT—”
A loud roar and the scenery around us was suddenly lit up by bright blue light The land fell away as acceleration crushed me back into the seat, as if a fat man had plopped down on my lap and was pushing back with all his might. I could feel my face distorting, the skin of my cheeks stretching back, eyeballs exposed to cold air. My ears popped painfully. The floater was shuddering violently. Then we were suddenly weightless.
“Stay braced. I have to do some things to amuse their radar.” His right hand played over a keyboard. We were higher than the tallest mountains, but falling.
“What about Winchell?” I didn’t dare look back.
“He’s not the one I’m being paid to deliver. Hold on.” The blast kicked in again and we were diving straight down. We flashed down the side of a mountain—sharp pain in my ears like somebody poking fingers down them. “Yawn,” the pilot said; I did and they popped again. As the ground approached we leveled off with a violent surge, chin jammed down against my neck, sharp pain in back and breasts and elbows, and then we were just flying again, but very fast. I leaned forward and realized we were still accelerating slightly.
“You do this often?” I asked.
“Often enough to be good at it. That’s why they called me.” He tuned the radar. There were three bright spots drifting down the screen, dimming. “I’m not worried about the Oregon cops. But they’ll have warned the border guards. Big border, though; they might not have time to get into position.”
“If they have?”
“Probably try to shoot us down.” He grimaced, looking ghoulish in the green light from the radar screen. “Haven’t got me yet.”
“Why don’t you contact them and tell them there’s an innocent person aboard?”
“All that would do is give our position away. Don’t worry. I’ll be coming in at cactus level, five or six times the speed of sound. We’ll just pop over the horizon and zip! We’re in Nevada.”
He really didn’t seem to be very worried. But then may-be he was insane.
He studied the radar screen with increasing tension as we zigged and zagged, following the configuration of the land. After a few minutes he clicked a switch and leaned back.
“That’s it. We’re home.”
“They can’t follow us in?”
“International incident.” He pushed a button. “Control, this is Baker eight-four-seven-six, coming in with a snatch. I need a pattern for Vegas, two-four, seven-nine, section OL.”
“Congratulations,” it answered. “Who’s the snatch?”
“Marianne O’Hara, alias Mary Hawkings, registered with Landreth Wallace.”
“All right, we’ll notify. You’ve got the pattern. Endit.”
“You know my real name?”
“All I know is you’ve got two names.” He let go of the wheel, lit a cigarette and leaned back. “Can I give you some advice?”
“Sure. This is all new to me.”
“First of all, don’t try to escape. You don’t know how to drive a flyer, so the only way out of Vegas is the tube. You have to pass Security to get out, and they’ll know who you are. They can be pretty rough.”