Binary - Michael Crichton [20]
'Hell of along way,' the old man said. 'Anyhow, you want to go south. This is the north ramp.'
'We're just resting a minute.'
The man looked at them as if they were peculiar, shrugged, and drove onto the ramp. His car rattled as he gathered speed, and then he was gone. They were left by the roadside.
His brother lit a cigarette. 'You know,' his brother said, 'this is going to create a hell of a mess.'
'That was the idea.'
'When are you leaving?'
'Four.'
'That's cutting it awfully close. I'm getting out at three.'
'To Vegas?'
His brother nodded. 'You?'
'Chicago.'
'You better hope nothing delays that plane on the ground.'
'There's another flight at four thirty. I'm booked on that one as well.' His brother nodded.
Down the road they saw a car approach. It was black and white, a sedan. They couldn't see it clearly, but as it came closer they saw the configuration better. A police car.
'Shit,' Peters said.
His brother lit another cigarette. 'What if he wants to look in the suitcase? What if he -'
'We haven't done anything wrong,' Peters said. He glanced at his watch. It was almost ten o'clock. Where the hell was the pickup?
The police car came closer.
'I don't like this at all,' his brother said.
'We haven't done anything wrong,' Peters said again.
The police car approached them and put on its blinker.
'The bastard's pulling over.'
But the car did not pull over. Instead, it drove onto the ramp and merged with traffic. The cop hardly glanced at them.
They sighed. 'What time is it?' 'I have ten, on the nose.'
In the distance a car got off the far ramp and made a U turn under the freeway. It was a Cadillac convertible with a woman driving. She came around and started up the ramp, going back the way she had come. She stopped when she saw them.
'I took the wrong turnoff. Can I give you fellows a lift?'
'We're going to Phoenix,' Peters said.
'No kidding,' the woman said. 'That's my home town.'
'No kidding,' Peters said. 'Which part?'
'The right part,' she said.
The two men exchanged glances, then got into the car, placing the suitcases in the back seat. The woman said, 'Sorry I'm late,' and drove off. Nothing else was said.
HOUR 7
SAN DIEGO
10 AM PDT
The voice crackled over the telephone line. 'Fucking around with the computers,' Phelps said, 'is not my idea of a joke.'
Graves sat in the hotel phone booth and stared across the lobby at Lewis and a marshal. Lewis was gesturing to Graves to get off the phone. 'It wasn't intended as a joke.'
'How was it intended?' Phelps said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
'It was intended as an attempt to recall my own file.'
'You're not supposed to do that.'
'There are a lot of things I'm not supposed to do.'
'And you seem bent on doing all of them,' Phelps said. 'Have you picked up Wright yet?'
'No.'
'You've certainly had time; it's ten -'
'I want to play him a little. Besides, I have somebody else.'
'Oh?'
'Timothy Drew.'
'Where?'
'Upstairs. We've got him in a hotel on Third.'
'We've been looking for him for forty-eight hours,' Phelps said. 'And I mean looking hard. How did you find him?'
'Wright led us to him,' Graves said. That was the only thing that bothered Graves. It was too much like a setup, as if Wright were giving him Drew.
'How convenient,' Phelps said. 'When are you going to arrest him?'
'He's already arrested. The federal marshals are up there with him.'
'I mean Wright.'
'Later in the day,' Graves said.
'You and your goddamned poker games,' Phelps said. 'I want you to call me in an hour.'
'All right.'
'Stop agreeing with me. Just do it.' And he hung up.
Graves left the phone booth. Lewis came over with his notebook open. They headed for the elevator.
'What've you got?' Graves said.
'It's pretty strange,' Lewis said. 'At Sanderson's today, Wright bought a Model 477 scintillation counter. Retail price, two hundred forty-seven dollars.'
'A scintillation counter?'
'Yeah. It's apparently a kind of high-grade Geiger counter. Reads radiation.'
'Does it have any other uses?'
'Nobody knows of any.'
'What else?'