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'Nice and easy,' Peters said, standing near Reeves with the gun. 'Nice and easy.'

Reeves did not move.

The men emerged from the truck carrying two small, extremely heavy boxes. Peters could see the triple-blade radiation symbol on the boxes. The men closed the truck and started to load the boxes into the car. One of them came over and expertly tied and gagged Reeves with adhesive tape.

Then, speaking for the first time, the man said, 'Let's go.'

Peters was confused. 'I thought you were going to take -'

'Let's go.'

Peters went with the man, who wore a Donald Duck mask, and got into the car. The sedan backed out of the road and drove off.

The men all left their masks on. One of them said, 'What's the time?'

'Nine thirty-two.'

'Perfect.'

Peters was given a mask of his own, a witch's mask with day-glo pink cheeks and wild eyes. He pulled it on ' and said, 'I thought we were taking the penicillin too.'

'The plan was changed,' somebody said. 'But if we just take the capsules -'

'The plan was changed this morning. We were told to take only the capsules.'

Peters frowned and said nothing. He felt the change in plan was a terrible mistake. By stealing the penicillin they would have confused the issue; it might have taken the truckers several days to discover the theft of the radiation capsules. But now they'd find only the capsules gone... It was too obvious, too simple. Why had the change been made?

'Time?'

'Nine thirty-six.'

The driver nodded and pulled over to the side of the road. The men sat quietly, not removing their masks. Peters looked at the backs of their necks, noticing the length of their hair, the condition of their collars, the way they were dressed. Several minutes gassed.

'Time?'

'Nine forty.'

The driver put the car in gear. He drove down the road through gently rolling farm country. The morning air was still cool.

'There it is.'

Up ahead was another dirt road turnoff, with another truck pulled off the road and another man standing over the driver.

'Remember, we want twenty pounds of it.'

The black sedan pulled up behind the truck. Peters was given the spool of inch-wide adhesive tape; he quickly tied and gagged the driver. Meanwhile the others opened the truck and removed several small packages. They were wrapped in clear plastic and looked like bread dough: a whitish, puttylike substance. The men carried two packages each, bringing them around to the trunk of the sedan, setting them in carefully, then going back for more.

Peters gave a mask to the man standing over the driver with the gun. The gunman did not speak. Then Peters went around to the trunk of the sedan and began counting the plastic packages. When there were twenty, he placed them in a suitcase, locked the case, and closed the trunk.

The men climbed back into the sedan and drove off. 'Time?'

'Nine fifty-one.'

'Beautiful.'

'T'he black sedan drove back to the San Diego Freewa, and stopped at the on-ramp for Hackley Road. Peters got out. So did the other gunman. Peters went around to the trunk and removed the suitcase with the plastic packages. The other gunman placed the two radiation capsules into the blue canvas gym bag.

He stood with Peters until the sedan had pulled onto the freeway and disappeared. Then, his back to the road, he took off his mask. Peters took off his mask as well. The other man removed a paper American flag from the bag. With Peters' help, he taped the flag onto the side of the suitcase.

Then Peters removed his black-haired wig and his moustache. The other man removed his blond wig and peeled away a reddish, new-looking scar on the side of his cheek.

The two men looked at each other and laughed.

'Well done, brother,' Peters said, and clapped him on the back.

They waited five minutes, and then another black sedan, very dusty, pulled up. An older man leaned out and said, 'Give you boys a lift?'

Peters said, 'We're going to Phoenix.' As he said it, he glanced at his brother, who was