"You may be surprised."
Farradyne lit a cigarette and relaxed. "We'll wait until dusk to be
sure," he said.
Hourly, the radio went on telling how Farradyne was being cornered.
Radar nets and radio-contact squadrons were scouring the North American
continent with special attention being given to the North Middlewest.
A ship of the enemy must have arrived with some information that could
be pieced together, for another report said, "Charles Farradyne, sought
on many charges involving hellflower operations, has been implicated in
the disappearance of Carolyn Niles, according to her family. Her father
indicated that Miss Niles had not returned home after a date with the
criminal. This is a familiar pattern with hellflower dopesters. Be
careful. The man is cornered and desperate. He will not hesitate to
shoot, he may even bomb a village or neighborhood if his freedom is
threatened!"
Brenner and Carolyn did not even jeer at him. The situation was
obvious; Farradyne and his white flag would be shot to pieces before he
could tell his name, let alone make explanations.
But now it was dark outside. The stars were bright above the astrodome
and they danced with the motion of the water. To one side a wavy trail
passed across the sky and high above there was the flicker of a space
patrol crossing the sky at fifty or sixty miles. The radio was alive
with reports and the police bands were busy with their myriad reports
and directions. Farradyne pricked off their calls on a map with a
drawing pencil. Ground and air patrols were combing a vast area and
space squadrons were holding a dragnet high in the sky above. For a
very brief interval Farradyne could hear a distant network in operation
which indicated that the same sort of complete search was underway in
other districts across the face of the continent.
He inspected his map and hoped that he had them all. Then, very
cautiously, he lifted the nose of the Lancaster above the water line
and eyed his radar. Pips showed here and there, a couple within a few
miles of him. He waited until they turned away, waited until they went
beyond the radar horizon.
Using just enough power to waft the Lancaster into the air, Farradyne
placed the ship in a gully a few hundred yards from a state highway.
The trees covered it from direct observation at night and the flat
hills and ravines would cover it from radar detection....
It was almost two o'clock in the morning when a lonely moving van came
along the highway. The brakes screeched as the driver caught sight of
a crumpled body lying alongside the road. Red sogginess contrasted
with the length of white thigh, uncovered by a ripped skirt, and more
redness dribbled wet from the corner of Norma's mouth. The driver piled
out of one door and his helper from the other. They ran to kneel by the
woman's side.
Then they smelled the ketchup and stood up, raising their hands
immediately.
"That's not blood spilled," said the driver loudly. "Let's keep it that
way."
The driver's helper added, "This is a bum job, friend. We're carting
second-hand furniture, not gold."
"I don't want your load," said Farradyne, stepping into the glare of
the headlights while Norma got up and dusted herself off. "I want your
truck."
They looked at him and he saw recognition in their faces. Obviously
every news agency had his picture presented in full color. He saw that
they apparently understood why he wanted the truck, for there was also
contempt on their frightened faces.
"What's the next move, Farradyne?" asked the driver in a surly tone.
"Do we take the high jump?"
"No. I just want your truck."
"Getting a bit brash?"
"Maybe I have to. Driver, what's your name?"
"Morgan. This is Roberts."
"Morgan, you drive that truck into the ravine there and I'll see that
Roberts plays hostage. Get it?"
"Behave, Al," pleaded Roberts.
"I will, but I think we'll get it anyway."
"Act like you believe that and you will," snapped Farradyne. "I have
neither time nor patience."
Morgan climbed into the truck and drove it from the road through the
trees until they came to the Lancaster. Both men goggled at the big
ship parked there and Farradyne let them look at it for a moment. Then
he waved his gun. "Unload it!" he said sharply.
It took them an hour to move the load from the truck to the ground, and
Farradyne spent that hour in nervous watching. He could not trust them
not to make a break, nor could he hope to explain. When the van was
emptied, he faced Roberts against it and said, "Norma, tape Morgan's
hands behind him."
She did, and while Farradyne stood over them, she taped Roberts. Each
man knew that the other's life was dependent on him and, while either
man might have made some break for safety, he would not so long as the
other might suffer.
Their lips curled in contempt as the conveyor-belt came out of the
cargo lock and the white blossoms tumbled along it to drop into the
van. Both Morgan and Roberts were honest men, but they lacked the
higher education that was necessary to be pilot of a spacecraft;
therefore, they resented the fact that Farradyne had this training yet
used it to such ends. They were rough-hewn and hard-boiled and, perhaps
like other transcontinental truckers, they had a woman at either end of
the line and a few strung along the way, but their love conquests were
lustily honest and they scorned the idea of hellflowers as an aid to
passion. Even in their fright they sneered at the spaceman.
Farradyne left them sitting there on the ground after the loading
was finished. He and Norma went into the salon and he faced Brenner.
"Better take this quietly," he said. "It's inevitable, Brenner."
The radio made him pause:
"Ladies and gentlemen, the late news: The system-wide search for
Charles Farradyne is hurrying to a close. Indications are now that
the infamous hellblossom king is hiding in the Lake Superior region
and all forces are being hurried to that area to create the most
leakproof dragnet in the history of man's manhunt. A special session
of the planning committee of the Solar Anti-Narcotics Department has
been called to deal with the problem, and any information pertaining
to Charles Farradyne may be delivered by picking up your telephone and
calling SAND, One-thousand.
"This information is being disseminated freely. We know that Farradyne
is listening to this broadcast, and the Sandmen have instructed all
radio stations and networks to deliver the following announcement:
"'To Charles Farradyne! A reward of fifty thousand dollars has been
offered for your capture dead or alive. You cannot escape. The forces
that are blanketing the Lake Superior area are being augmented hourly
by additional men and materiel. You will be arrested and brought to
trial for your life. However, the reward of fifty thousand dollars will
be turned over to you to be used in your own defense if you surrender
at once.'"
Farradyne grunted. "Very tasty dish," he said sourly. "Very competent
people you have, boys and girls. Someone really thought that one out
most thoroughly. Can you picture me walking up to a patrol and saying
'Fellers, I've come to give myself up so I can have the reward' and
then have the patrol take me in on that basis? I'd go in on a shutter,
and the patrol would divide the loot. To hell with you, we'll play it
my way. Norma, go ahead."
Norma slipped off one high-heeled shoe and advanced on Brenner. The
enemy agent tried to shy away, but Farradyne went over and caught his
head between the palms of his hands and held Brenner fixed. Norma swung
the slipper and crashed the heel against Brenner's jaw.
Brenner slumped, and the heelprint on his jaw oozed a dribble of blood
mixed with mud.
Farradyne slung Brenner over his shoulder and carried the inert man
out. He propped Brenner in the helper's seat and handed Norma into the
driver's seat. He stood on the runningboard and watched Norma strip
the tape from Brenner's wrists and replace it with fresh tape from the
truck's own first-aid kit.
"The ankles, too," he warned her. "You have to cover up the tape-marks."
Norma taped Brenner's ankles. Then she looked up at Farradyne. "I'm
shaky."
"I know," he said. "But you have to hold yourself together until this
gambit is played out."
She smiled wanly. "That's what is holding me together. Charles, wish me
luck!"
He leaned into the truck window and put his lips to hers. It was a
very pleasant kiss, their first kiss of real affection and mutual
confidence, though it lacked a compelling passion. Then he swung down
from the truck with a wave of his hand and Norma put the big engine in
gear with a grind that set Morgan's teeth on edge.
The truck turned onto the highway and roared off down the road.