An hour later (two of the twelve hours were gone) Julia was still free.
She had weaved and twisted across the city. She had crossed and
recrossed the super-highways and the local speedways. She had fled up
ramps and through under passes.
She had no way of telling how near Walt was; or what moment and from
what direction death might strike. She did not believe that he could
reach out through space to snatch her life; if he tried teleportation,
she was steeled to resist. The lifeless, glittering windows, the dull
glare of overhead and curb lights, the shuttle movement of traffic, the
heavy, motionless air--all these combined into bristling menace. Her
foot strained against the accelerator; her muscles ached over the wheel.
She hoped she had confused him. Now she streamed for the open highway.
She settled the car into a traffic slot on the north-bound coast
super-highway. She switched the car on automatic and tried to relax.
The road curved gently toward the west to pick up the coast line. Soon
the moonlit breakers hissed on white sand beaches. The ocean lay dark
and mysterious toward the far horizon.
She prayed that Walt would not guess for long minutes that she had left
the city; that he would lose more precious minutes locating the
super-highway.
San Francisco was six hours ahead of her.
* * * * *
Walt was continually losing himself in a maze of Los Angeles streets.
Ones that seemed to promise to deliver him cross-town to interrupt Julia
in her erratic course twined away in improper directions. Occasionally
he neared her. But she darted away each time: as if with the primeval
instinct of a hunted animal.
At last he stopped the car and cried to a pedestrian across the street:
"Is there any place I can get a map of the city?"
"Ask inna filling station."
Walt snarled. And five minutes later he found the map. He memorized it
carefully; it required scarcely more than a minute. During that time, he
let his body rest and relax. He threw the map onto the driveway. He grew
increasingly more confident of catching her as the information settled
into his brain. He visualized the map.
He was ready for her now.
She was already on the super-highway. He left the filling station. He
was in no hurry. He was waiting for her to return.
It soon became apparent that she would not.
He grunted and spun his car in her direction.
He lost several minutes in a traffic jam downtown. He got on the wrong
lane in a clover leaf beyond the city limits. He had now passed beyond
the boundaries of the map he had memorized. He took the ridge
super-highway instead of the one Julia had taken. After twenty miles, he
realized his mistake and had to cut over. He bounced along an east-west
road that was so rough-surfaced he had to reduce his speed.
When he finally arrived on the proper highway he was almost an hour
behind Julia.
He concentrated on understanding the physical assembly of the engine in
front of him. He could teleport parts from it; he could hold other parts
more tightly together by using the same power. But the engine was so
very complex. There was (he could tell) something there--in the engine
itself--that kept the power from being utilized. He could not locate the
block.
He increased the speed by tightening the valves. But the required
concentration was too great to be long maintained. It exhausted him and
forced him to rest for a few miles. Then he tightened the valves again.
The car moved forward in a sudden burst of speed.
* * * * *
In San Francisco Julia stopped long enough for a sandwich--long enough
to gulp hot coffee--long enough to buy a box of "Wide-awakes." She
checked airline schedules by phone.
The eastern flights were held up by weather over the Rockies. The next
strato-jet to Hawaii was due to leave in thirty minutes; but she would
have to wait to see if any reservations were canceled before she could
be assured of a seat. There would not be another plane south for an hour
and a half. One was leaving just then.
She told herself that the airport would become a cul-de-sac unless she
could time it perfectly; she could not risk it.
She cruised the city until she had been there over an hour. She was
loggy and exhausted.
She was afraid to remain any longer. He might head her off; he might
trap her in a dead end street. Once on the straight of way, there
was--at least--no danger of that. She left the city and headed north
again.
* * * * *
Walt arrived ten minutes before she left. He came to a stop at an all
night lunch. Invisible, he slipped through walls into the kitchen. He
stole food, returned to his car with it, ate it. He drove to a gas
station, keeping her position sharply in mind.
"Gas," he ordered the attendant.
The attendant began filling the tank.
"All the way full," Walt said. "I want a map of the city when you
finish."
The attendant brought the map. Walt unfolded it.
Julia had left the city. Walt was not going to be fooled this time. But
he wanted to memorize the city just in case she did double back.
"Is there ... a larger map? Of this whole area?"
The attendant brought him a California map. He memorized that one. He
picked out Julia's route. He verified it.
"Pay up, now," the attendant said. "I gotta car waitin'. It's five
sixty-seven altogether."
Walt reached through the rolled down window and seized the man. He
jerked him forward and down; and, with the same motion, slammed his own
weight against the inside of the unlocked door. The steel top of the
opening door cracked the attendant across the forehead; he went limp.
Walt let go of him, closed the door, and drove off.
By the time he sighted her car ahead of him on the highway, in the mist
and fog of dawn, nearly eleven hours had elapsed since he had begun the
pursuit. It had been only a half an hour before that he had located the
governor and teleported it out of the engine.