"We have the location of the truck," she said. "It's in a barn on a farm north of Lake Hopatcong on Route Ninety-four, just before coming into Hamburg."
Bennett Bradley said, "I'll alert the Jersey highway patrol, and they can pick us up on the other side of the George Washington Bridge with an escort."
"You want any county police on this?"
"Forget it," Bradley told him. "We don't want to divulge any details of the site." He went back to the map they were using for our relocation and found what he was looking for. "Here," he said. "We'll have two more cars meet us at the junction of Routes Fifteen and Ninety-four." He picked up the phone, called the operator for the number of the Jersey highway patrol, then dialed it.
Ferguson was thumbing through a pocket-size pad of his own and told Carmody, "If we start crossing agency lines on this, we'll have one hell of a mess. Now, who wants it?"
"How many men do you think we'll need?" Carmody asked him.
"At least a dozen, heavily armed, to guard that stuff. We may be able to keep the raid quiet, but we can't plan on it."
"That load has got to be moved out. If the trailer's in good shape, we'll need a tractor to haul it and at least four mobile units for cover. The state guys can lead and be the tail on the convoy."
"Okay," Frank Carmody told him. "This whole thing is going to be interstate, so let me handle it. The FBI can get on this from our local offices a lot faster than Langley can. That satisfactory?"
"Fine by me," Ferguson agreed. "I'll stay on this end getting Hammer and his lady out of the area. Now, what's the time schedule going to be like?"
Both of them glanced at Bradley, who was putting the phone down. "That guy's ready right now," Carmody muttered.
"He wants to make some points before his replacement gets here. Can't blame him at all. However, he waits on this one. That stuff has been there so long a few more days won't matter. The major thing is we know where it is and we don't want to chance losing it at this point by a lot of hasty maneuvering."
Bradley came back, smiling gently, then raised his eyebrows at Carmody and Ferguson. "You two would make terrible poker players."
Carmody frowned, annoyed. "What?"
"I don't plan to barge right in on this," Bradley told him.
You could see the relief on their faces.
Bradley said, "One car will make the run first. We want the exact location, photos taken of the area, then we'll regroup for a final planning. The Jersey police will be given full authorization to work this under our command and will move on it the minute we call them."
"Who's going in the car?"
"Guess," Candace said.
"You think that's practical?" Ferguson asked her.
"A man and a woman riding together is a natural, gentlemen. Besides, I'm the only one who knows the fine details of the terminal point. Mr. Bradley and I will make a good team."
Bradley gave her a smile and a half bow. "It's settled then."
"And when do Velda and I move out?" I asked.
It was Ferguson who said, "First thing in the morning, buddy. We want to get you out of here at first light and settled in with guards on post before nightfall."
"Velda's going to need clothes."
Candace said, "We're both about the same size. I can outfit her with what she'll need."
I was going to object, but Pat stopped me. "Do it that way, Mike. And you can pick up what you need from any store in the area. I wouldn't suggest your going back to your apartment. You got any cash on you?"
"Enough," I told him.
"How much ammo you got for your forty-five?"
"Two full clips."
"Pick up a box."
"Who am I supposed to kill, Pat?"
For the second that he said nothing, I saw the note in my mind. You die for killing me.
"I'm sure you'll find somebody," Pat said jokingly.
Burke Reedey had changed Velda's bandage and helped her straighten up her hair. Under the makeup the signs of discoloration had almost faded and the swelling around her eye was nearly gone. Her lips were back to their natural shape and fullness, and I sat on the edge of the gurney and laid my palm against her cheek. "How you doing, baby?"
Her smile started before her eyes opened, then she said, "At least I'm not pregnant."
"Clever thought."
"Life around you is never dull, Mike. Dangerous, but never dull."
"Sorry, kitten." My fingers brushed the edges of her hair lightly.
"Burke didn't want to tell me what happened."
"How much do you remember?"
She closed her eyes, thought about it a moment and looked up at me. "I had been asleep. The doctor had given me a sedative. There seemed to be some noise that wakened me, and I knew somebody was in the room, but I thought it was Burke who had come back. Then a needle went into my arm and I was back asleep again. There were shots. I do remember shots, but they were part of my sleep." Her eyes narrowed discernibly. "They were shots, weren't they?"
"Two guys who tried to snatch you were killed."
"You?"
"I hit one in the arm, but Pat knocked him off. Snipers got the other one."
"Mike . . . why me?"
"To hurt me, doll. They still thought they could squeeze me for information I didn't even have, if they had you."
"What's happened?"
"Now we know what they want. That's why we're getting off the scene until this event is over."
"Since when do you cut out, Mike?" Her voice had an angry tone.
"When you need somebody to cover your ass, doll. Now shut up and take it as it comes." I leaned forward, cradling her head in my hands, and kissed her mouth. Then her hands came up and held me too, and our mouths were soft and gentle together, full of warmth that I had missed so badly.
Behind me, Candace coughed softly, and I eased Velda back. Burke had given her another sedative and she was getting sleepy. She had another jumpsuit outfit over her arm. "Let me dress her now," she said. "Then she'll be ready for the trip."
I nodded and went outside, half closing the door. Pat was on the telephone, two new plainclothes cops were in the room, and the other three were bent over the map again.
Five minutes later Candace came out and shut the door gently. "There's a suitcase of casual things and some underwear by the door. My shoes will be a little oversize on her, but it won't matter."
"Thanks, I appreciate it."
"I saw the way you kissed her."
"We're old friends."
"Bullshit. Why don't you just say you love her?"
"Why do girls always think-"
"Because we're jealous, Mike. When a girl's not in love, she's jealous of anybody else who is."
"You know . . ."
Candace put her finger on my mouth. "Don't say anything silly, big boy. We had a few wild moments and it was good. Crazy, but very good. You realize it never would have lasted for us."
I grinned at her and gave her hip a little pat. "Call me when the screwballs think they have you cornered."
"When will that be?"
"When you're president, kiddo."
Pat turned that sharp look on me when I said the word, and we both remembered we still had Penta in the picture somewhere. He was going to eliminate the vice president of the United States, but first he had to finish a job for himself.
12
The trip upstate started before dawn. It began with a ride in a police cruiser to the local precinct station, a switch to an unmarked car with us stretched out on the floor in the rear, winding up at the Fourth Precinct downtown with a shuffle to another car, indistinguishable in the shuffle of vehicles coming and going in the vicinity.