Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [180]
Marie thought that over. She glanced at her boots and fingered her jacket. She was ready to walk, and so was Harvey, but it made sense. Certainly if they had to walk, a few hours wouldn't make any difference.
"So we wait here?" Joanna asked.
Mark stuck his head in at the window. "Sure, this is Senator Jellison's place. Thought I recognized it. Harv, that was smart, sending a message to the Senator's daughter instead of him."
"Wait," Marie said. "How long?"
"Christ, how the hell do I know?" Harvey exploded. "As long as they'll let us. This ranch is organized, have you noticed? And they've got food; that guard wasn't hungry. We'd like to feed the boys when they get here. Not to mention ourselves."
Marie nodded in submission.
"The trouble is," Harvey continued, "how do we get them to let us in? Blowing up that bridge might have been a subtle hint that they aren't welcoming refugees in this valley. We have to be useful, which means we promise to do whatever they want us to do, and no goddam arguments about it. Marie, don't blow this for us. We're beggars here."
He waited for that to sink in before turning to Joanna. "That applies to your shotgun. I don't know if you noticed the subtle hand motions of that guy who stopped us, but he was doing strange things with his hand. His left hand. I expect sticking him up wouldn't be a good idea."
"I knew that," Joanna said.
"Yes." Harvey turned to Mark. "Let me do the talking." Mark looked hurt. Who'd got Harvey out of his bedroom and across the state, all the way up here? But he stood in the rain, water running off his jacket and into his boots, and waited in silence.
"Company coming," Mark said finally. He pointed up the drive.
Three men on horseback, wearing yellow slickers and rain hats. One didn't ride very well. He clung grimly to the horse. When he came closer, Harvey recognized Al Hardy, Jellison's administrative assistant and political hatchet man.
Hatchet man, Harvey thought. That might be more literally true here than it had been in Washington.
Hardy dismounted and handed the reins to one of the mounted men. He came over to the TravelAll and peered inside. "Hello, Mr. Randall," he said.
"Hello." Harvey waited tensely.
"Who are these people?" He looked closely at Marie, but didn't say anything.
Hardy had met Loretta only once, months ago, Harvey thought. When? A long time, anyway. And Marie Vance never, but he knew she wasn't Loretta. A good memory for names and faces goes with the job of political adviser …
"A neighbor," Harvey said. "And two employees."
"I see. And you came from Los Angeles. Do you know conditions in L.A.?"
"They do," Harvey said. He indicated Mark and Joanna. "They saw the tidal wave come in."
"I can let two of you come up," Hardy said. "No more."
"Then it's none," Harvey said. He said it quickly, before he could say something else. "Thanks, and we'll be on our way—"
"Wait." Hardy looked thoughtful. "Okay. Hand me the shotgun. Slow, and don't point it at me." He took the weapon and handed it to the original guard, who'd also dismounted. "Any more firearms?"
"This pistol." Harvey showed the Olympic target gun.
"My, but that's pretty. Give it to me, too. You'll get them back if you're not staying." Hardy took the weapon and thrust it into his belt. "Now make room for me in the back seat."
He climbed into the back seat, leaned out to speak so the others could hear. "You follow on that bike," he told Mark. "Stay close. I'm taking them up, Gil. It's all right."
"If you say so," the original guard said.
"Let's go," Hardy told Randall. "Drive carefully."
The gate swung open and Harvey drove through, followed by Mark, then, further behind, by the third man on horseback leading the other two horses.
"Why not leave a horse for the guard?" Harvey asked.
"We have more cars than horses. Rather lose a car if some damn fool tries