She fumbled at her zippers. “Gavin—I’ve got no hands!” I glanced sideways. They were white claws.
I switched the copter to auto and set it to fly southwest j through the clouds. I pushed her hands into the heater blast -j and began to unzip her. After a struggle I managed to peel ' off her soaked jumpsuit. I had undressed women in a mini- ; copter before, but never when it was flying and the woman was freezing.
I wrapped her in the rug, then found a windbreaker to pull ; over her shoulders. She began to sob with pain as feeling came back into her fingers and toes. That was a good sign. I concentrated on flying the copter, glancing down through gaps in the clouds. All I could see below were patches of wet woods.
“The proximity indicator,” she whispered. “Aircraft at seventy-two!”
Three, a little above us, flying southwest. Had they vec- I tored in on us already? I started to turn and came out of the ; clouds. “Minicopters, by God!”
Three civilian minicopters, flying in a group but not in ; formation. And another four farther inland, heading the same 1 way. They must all be going somewhere, but they weren’t af-ter us. I eased over to fall in astern of the nearest group. A flock like this might confuse the radar search. “Where the hell are they going?” I muttered.
“Up ahead!” Judith raised a mottled hand. “They’re landing.”
Beneath us was only forest. It would be hopeless to try to ' hide in that, even if I could see a place to put down. I know about people-hunting in jungle; airborne sniffers would smell us out in no time, once they knew roughly where we were i hiding.
We passed over a road, cars moving along it in a steady stream, heading toward a group of buildings surrounded by hectares of permacrete. “A rural shopping mall!” said Judith.
After being out of circulation for three years, it took a moment for me to appreciate what she was saying. Minicopters were forbidden to fly near cities or to land in populated areas. But out here, in the boondocks, they were the transportation of choice for farmers, miners, and foresters. Shopping centers to serve such people had sprung up and the one ahead of us was large and obviously popular. Cars were streaming in from the highway; minicopters dropping down from the sky. I followed the copter ahead into the landing pattern and put down in the next parking slot. It was starting to rain, and people were running from cars and copters toward the dome covering the mall. Every rustic within range seemed to have come shopping at the same time.
I cut the motor. “What’s going on? Why the rush?”
“Nine o’clock on a Saturday morning.” Judith glanced around. “Will they have tracked us here?”
“Maybe not yet. We’ve hours at the best—minutes at the worst. We’ve got to lose ourselves in that mob. Come on!” I began to open the door.
“Like this?” She was wearing only a windbreaker and a blanket. “Help me back into my suit.”
Judith’s fingers were not yet fully functional and cramming her back into a wet jumpsuit was an exercise in applied gymnastics. The shoppers who glanced at us as they hurried through the rain looked quickly away. We were obviously some kinky couple who chose to copulate in a minicopter at nine on a Saturday morning in a parking lot. I was more afraid of the police arriving with Judith half-naked than of shocking the rustics. When she was more or less dressed I jumped out. “Let’s make a dash for it!”
The rain had turned into downpour. We ran toward the mall among other scurrying shoppers and stood dripping amid potted plants and ornamental fountains. Judith looked only a little wetter than the rest of the crowd, but she was shivering as well as dripping. I guided her to a store where flocks of women were rummaging through racks of clothing. “Join that mob. Pick out something warm and try it on.”
Her teeth were chattering. “I’ve no cards and no cash.”
“Tell anybody who asks that your old man told you to buy yourself a dry dress. He’ll pay when he comes to pick you up. But get rid of that jumpsuit. It’s a dead giveaway if the cops come looking.”
“You’ll be back?”
“Of course!” I took the windbreaker and gave her a push toward the store. “If I can’t liberate enough cash you’ll have to fade into the crowd. The shoplifter magstrip is usually hidden in the hem. Go on! And pick something sensible and inconspicuous, for God’s sake!”
I left her wandering between the racks and set out to gather the cash we needed before we could go anywhere. I went to the nearest bank because, as some bank-robber once remarked, that’s where the money was. The tellers had not yet opened their windows but the bank was already filled with damp customers, queuing up or completing slips at tall desks round the edge of the room.
I joined the crowd, watching for suitable marks. These bucolics still preferred cash to cards and were preparing to pay it in or draw it out. Presently a large red-faced man laid down his checkbook and a pile of checks on one of the desks and began to complete a paying-in slip.
I went to stand beside him and started to make out a similar slip. By opening my windbreaker at a critical moment I sent a puff of air along the desk which blew his checks among the feet of customers crowding into the bank. He didn’t recognize the source of the sudden draft but dived into the crowd to recover the checks from among their muddy boots. By the time he returned, cursing and counting, I had acquired his slip and one of his blank checks. When he couldn’t find his slip he cursed again and began to make out another while I moved to a desk on the far side of the room.
The Secret Service had been founded to catch counterfeiters and forgers. My basic training had taught me the methods of both and turned me into a fair penman. By the time the tellers opened their windows and my mark was making his deposit I had produced a reasonable facsimile of his signature on a check withdrawing a tenth of what he had just deposited. Two thousand dollars—a sum large enough for our immediate needs but too small to arouse teller interest.
I gave the computer time to enter the appropriate credits, then joined the queue at another window. It inched forward while I listened to those around me complaining of the weather, the price of hogs, and the Government, in that order. When I presented the check the computer approved it and the teller hardly looked up as she gave me the cash. I left the bank slowly,, counting my money in the manner of a careful countryman.
Outside in the mall I bought myself a long plastic raincoat, a wide-brimmed rain hat, and a woman’s purse. I slipped twenty fifties into the purse and went to see how Judith was doing.
I found her inspecting herself in a knit dress of drab design, her face showing her dislike of the effect. Only a few hours out of the Pen, in imminent danger of recapture and mind-wipe, she was still a woman buying a new dress. “Perfect!” I muttered, laying the purse down beside her. “There’s a grand in that. Get yourself a raincoat with hood. Then wait for me in the coffee shop by the Eastern entrance.”
She nodded without looking at me and I went out into the rain to walk among the rows of cars in the agitated manner of a driver who cannot remember where he is parked. As the sumptuary laws had restricted the scope of auto stylists they had switched their talents to the design of advertisements and left the designing of autos to the engineers who built them. The result had been a notable improvement in taste and a trend toward standardization. With color choice limited, most cars looked remarkably alike. I went searching for any auto in which some hurried shopper had left the keys, but these rustics were a careful bunch and I had covered a large part of the lot without success when S saw a GM “Auditor” swing in to park.
Its owner got out, locked up, put the keys in the right-hand pocket of his raincoat, and ran toward the mall entrance. 1 walked after him into the automat where he flung his coat across a chair and went to purchase breakfast from the dispensers.
I collected an empty coffee mug, put my own raincoat across the same chair, and sat down at the same table. I then began to search my pockets, transferred the search to my raincoat, and then to his. The keys of the Auditor were on the same ri
ng as his other keys so I was able to detach them and have the rest stowed back in his coat while he was still waiting for his fried eggs to emerge from the slot at the dispenser. By the time he got back to-the table I was leaving the automat and heading for the coffee shop where Judith should be waiting.
She was both waiting and eating. The sight of her consuming doughnuts made me realize how hungry I was but we had already had more than our share of good luck, Judith’s Light had beamed upon us, and I dared not demand more. She joined me in the Mall, still munching a doughnut, at the moment when we heard the wail of a distant police siren and froze in mid-chew.
“Relax! We’re not the only crooks they’re after!” That did not convince me but it started her chewing again. “I’ve got an auto. A dark-blue Auditor. Wait for me in the passenger pick-up shelter outside the Eastern entrance. I’ll be round to collect yon in ten minutes. Make sure it’s me. There are hundreds of dark-blue Auditors in that lot.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Pray to Saint Ditmas.”
“Saint who?”
“Ditmas. The patron saint of thieves. If I don’t arrive within fifteen minutes turn on your charm and pick up a lonely farmer. Guys are usually helpful to a girl who’s been stood up. Especially a pretty girl like you!” On the impulse I kissed her, then faded into the crowds thronging the mall.
I walked out of the Western entrance into the rain to find three State Troopers charging toward me. I continued walking toward them, and was knocked aside. “Outta the way, buster!” The shoppers clustering in the entrance, wiser in the new ways of the police than I was, parted to let them through. I continued toward the Auditor, forcing myself to act with a calmness that was almost a parody.
Judith was waiting and whispered, “Saint Ditmas did his stuff!” as she slipped into the seat beside me.
“Go on bribing him!” I muttered as I headed the Auditor toward the exit. “Here comes the cavalry.” Two State Trooper helicopters were angling in to land. A squad was jumping from them as I turned onto the highway.
After a few kilometers Judith reached in her purse and gave me a chocolate bar. “That was the only eatable in the machine. But your kiss deserved some reward.”
“Better than rubies!” I tore off the wrapping. “Best meal of my life.”
“Where are we going?”
“Hucksters Haven. North of Boston.”
She did not ask me why but sat watching the road astern and the sky above. The girl had the instincts of a good tail-gunner. I sweated out an hour of uneventful driving and only began to relax when we reached the first packaged liquor store, an indicator of the commercial jungle ahead. Next a block of low buildings that screamed “Warehouse Sale Fabulous Furniture” and then we were among every form of scabrous growth an uncontrolled highway can develop.
There were dozens of second-hand auto dealers scattered among the other hucksters. I picked one which displayed a selection of Cadillacs as well as hordes of Auditors and Accountants, parked behind a Howardsons, and opened the trunk.
Judith followed me round to the back of the car. “What are you planning to liberate now?”
“A socket wrench. And here’s the right size.” I patted the rear fender. “Thank your owner for looking after your tool kit.” I crouched to loosen the bolts holding the rear plate. When I had them finger-tight I stood up and faced her. “You stroll over among those Cadillacs, radiating wealth. Charm that salesman who looks as though he hasn’t sold a car or had a girl in months. Turn him on! Make him think he’s a bigger attraction than the Caddies. Fascinate him, so he’ll ignore a slob in a long raincoat who’s kicking tires on used Auditors.”
“Keep his attention on me while you steal a plate?”
“Exactly! You’ll make the big time yet! And carry on conning him after I’ve walked off in disgust. Keep the charm going. Promise to return after you’ve asked Daddy to buy you a Caddy. Then, go to that Austrian abortion-—”
“That what?”
“That cream-colored coupe.”
“I think it looks rather nice.”
“Then suspend thinking and do as I say. Pretend to get into it, wave to him if he’s watching—as he’s likely to be. Then change your mind and go into Howardsons. As though you’ve decided to visit the John. Exit this side. By then I should have the new plates on.”
“And the old ones where?”
“On one of the several hundred Auditors in that lot. It’ll be some time before the cops start checking all dark-blue Auditors in all the used-car lots in Massachusetts.”
“But won’t the dealer notice when he sells the car?” “Probably not till he gets to sell it. And the turnover in that lot doesn’t seem rapid.”
“Okay—I charm and you switch. Though God knows how I can charm anything dressed like this. And with a face that’s spent the morning in a coffin and under the sea.”
I studied her; she did look part worn. “You’ll do,” 1 said, to raise her morale.
“Gavin-—you’re a bad liar. For this Job I’ll have to refurbish my face. But don’t change anything about yourself. You look a slob to the life!” She laughed and disappeared into Howardsons.
I stood fretting until she emerged, looking as though she really might be in the market for a Cadillac. The very rich wear the weirdest garments, but they wear them in a way that shows what they are, with an assurance we lesser beings never seem to learn. Her face was now a study in elegant beauty. And she added to her act by going to die Austrian Abortion, seemed about to get in, glanced at the Caddys, and started to stroll toward the lot with an air that brought the salesman hurrying toward her even before he had seen her face.
I was ignored as I went around kicking tires and jumping on rear bumpers. I found an Auditor of the same year and much the same condition as the one we had borrowed and went down on my knees to inspect the rear shocks. I got up with our plate on and its plate under my droopy raincoat. After that I kicked a few more tires and then wandered off in patent disgust.
Judith tended to overact and she gave me a few nervous minutes while she dallied with the salesman and used the washroom. We exchanged only a few brief remarks until we reached the thruway and I headed southwest.
“Where are we going now, Gavin?”
“Buxton—just outside Greater Washington.”
“Washington suits me. But what’s at Buxton?”
“My grandfather’s grave.”
She swiveled around to stare. ‘Tm religious-minded myself. But that’s extreme. Can’t your grandfather wait until we’ve had some sleep?”
“I’ll sleep easier after I’ve checked Gramps.”
“Then you won’t mind if I grab some now?”
“Sleep all you like. I’d rather drive than be driven.”
She tilted back her seat, stretched out, closed her eyes, and within two minutes was snoring softly. Asleep, with her face repaired and the lines of strain relaxed, she was a damned good-looking woman. I was tempted to kiss her again, and only refrained for fear of waking her. Life was quieter with Judith asleep.
She came partly awake when I stopped for fuel and food but only woke fully when I finally reached the dirt road behind the Buxton Cemetery. By then it was dusk and though the rain had stopped the cemetery was shrouded in mist and the trees were dripping water. I had parked on the grass shoulder beneath an overhanging oak so the first thing Judith saw when she sat up was a row of iron railings.
“Where the hell are we? Back behind bars?”
“Behind Buxton Cemetery. My grandfather’s last resting place. That’s Washington—over there!” I pointed to the carpet of lights, starting a few kilometers away from the rise on which the cemetery stood, and spreading to the horizon.
s‘And what’s up here?” She got out of the car to look quickly around her. The way a cat looks around for hidden threats when suddenly put out of doors.
“This is the balanced, self-contained community of Buxton, An elegant habitat of luxury homes for th
e upwardly mobile. Sited to integrate unobtrusively with an authentic historical setting.”
“Gavin—-I’ve just woken up. Talk like a condemned murderer, not like an advertising copy-writer!”
“Sorry! Post-Pen euphoria!” I joined her by the railings. “Those are the luxury homes. Their yards end at this dirt road. Half- of them are empty. With no kids, who needs a house that size? The only thing in Buxton with any history is this graveyard. Note the old oaks, the worn headstones, and the high spiked railings. They were put up to protect the dead from body snatchers. They’ve been kept because the cemetery’s been declared an historical site. Also to prevent people from taking the stones for their back-yard patios.”
“And where’s this grandfather of yours we’ve come to visit?”
“Follow me.” I moved along the fence checking landmarks until I came to an upright which gave slightly when I pushed at it. They had repainted but not repaired. I pushed hard and it swung back, leaving a gap just sufficient for someone of my build to squeeze through. I gestured to Judith. “Ladies first!” She hesitated, and I did not blame her. A deserted cemetery at dusk is not the place where a woman would want to be alone with a convicted killer. But the reason for her hesitation was less rational. “I’ll dirty my dress getting through that. Why don’t we go in by the gate?”
“The gates are locked at eighteen hundred hours. This cemetery is under the care of the Bureau of Parks.”
She looked at me, shrugged, and squeezed through the gap into the shadows beyond.
VI
We stood together, looking down at my grandfather’s grave. “Good!” I said.
“Good? What’s good about this place? We start the day in a morgue. We hide in coffins. Now you dragged me into a cemetery! What kind—?”
“Judy—stop bitching! We nearly got shot. We almost got drowned. You’ve got a new dress. And we’ve done the impossible—escaped from the Pen. Luck’s been with us so far, but—”
Edward Llewellyn Page 8