“What’s my status in all this?” Suttles looked from one expectant face to the other. “When we’re finished here do I resume my normal duties?”
“I’m afraid not,” Robinett informed him. “As of right now, we’re assigned to you and you’re assigned to us. The orders have already been cut. Since you’re our only actual contact with this Hager, it was felt that your presence might be useful when we pick him up. He might feel more comfortable talking to someone he’s met before. Texan to Texan, if you will. Our accents,” he added dryly. “might inspire something less than confidence.”
“Do you have a problem with that?” Kerry asked bluntly.
“Not at all. Captain.”
“It should be more interesting than your usual duties.” Robinett was trying to put him at ease, Suttles felt. “Don’t you read myscerics?”
“Not any that center on Texas roughneck ventriloquisis with dead aliens for company.”
The younger man chuckled. “No, I have to admit this is the first time I’ve encountered that particular setup. I expect we’ll be the first.”
“It very likely is something other than a dead alien, you know.” Suttles was a bit taken aback at the pace of events.
“Very likely,” Robinett agreed. “However, the possibility that it just might be what the bartender claims opens suggestive windows. You must be interested in finding out yourself or you wouldn’t have tried that formula.”
“You’re sure it’s dead?” Kerry’s impatience dominated her disposition.
“It never moved or breathed or opened its eyes.” Sutdes was emphatic. “If it was once a live thing, it’s certainly deceased now. I had ample opportunity to study it and I was as close to it as you are to me now.”
Robinett in particular looked disappointed. “I don’t understand. From what we’ve been able to learn about this Hager person, he doesn’t seem to have any money. Why isn’t he on a TV talk show by now, or charging people three bucks a head to have a look at his discovery?”
It was Suttles’s turn to smile knowingly. “This is just a good ol’ country boy you’re dealing with here. I know hundreds of guys like that, both military and civilian. Plenty of them aren’t obsessed with big bank balances. It’s not that they’re indifferent to money; it just isn’t something that rules their lives.”
“We’ll persuade him that turning over his discovery is in the national interest.” Robinett turned wistful. “Antigravity, now, it would be nice to get an answer from the dummy on that.”
The more skeptical Kerry made a derisive sound. “Why not immortality, while you’re at it?”
“Now, now, Captain. You know the routine. Physical sciences first.”
“No,” she corrected him as she rose. “Before you can make any wishes you have to confront the genie. Even if it’s a dead one.”
On the way out Suttles tried to hold the door for her, but she beat him to it.
SEVEN
Ross Ed awoke to find the sun setting. He’d pulled into Lordsburg around six A.M. and checked into the motel, tired but happy to be back on the road. Having slept through the day, he felt rested and alert. A good supper and he’d be ready to go again. As for driving after dark, that had never bothered him. He’d driven plenty of rig trucks and other oil vehicles through the Texas night, often on roads that were little more than game tracks.
Besides, if someone was looking for him, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to sleep during the day and do his driving at night.
Unfolding himself from the bed, he ran through a few wake-up calisthenics. These were a necessity, as he’d learned from hard experience that sleeping in cramped, too-short motel beds always left him aching and sore when he woke up.
While he worked out the stiffness in his muscles, he hailed his patient companion. Jed sat in the room’s single chair, between the round table and low dresser. His eyes remained shut and he looked neither to left not right nor, for that matter, straight ahead.
“How ’bout it, Jed? You sleep okay?” The alien did not move or reply and Ross Ed smiled to himself. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Parting the cheap curtains, he found himself with a partial view of the setting sun. Anxious as he was to continue on his way, he knew it would be wise to have something solid to eat before returning to the shrouded monotony of the interstate.
Problem was, this was his first time in Lordsburg, and other than the usual international fast-food suspects, he didn’t have a clue where a man might find a decent meal. From what he’d seen of the town on his way in, the “burg” portion of the name certainly fit. He wasn’t sure about the “Lord” part. Travels through Texas and Louisiana had taught him early on that small-town restaurants might offer you the best meal of your life … or an early death.
Stepping into the tub-shower, he hunched over in the usual gnomish position and did his best to come clean. The effort left him feeling much refreshed and ready to drive. But first, something to eat.
After packing the car, he checked out and inquired after a good local restaurant, uttering the usual long-distance traveler’s silent prayer that it wasn’t some ptomaine palace which happened to be owned by the motel clerk’s uncle Og.
“What kind of food you like?” the young man asked in return.
Ross shrugged. “Pretty much anything’s fine with me, so long as it’s reasonable, filling, and wholesome. Don’t mind a little grease.” He was, after all, a Texan.
The clerk directed him to an out-of-the-way Mexican restaurant on the north side of the railroad tracks. All concrete bricks, wrought iron, and raucous music blasting from the adjoining bar, Ross Ed immediately identified it as a local hangout. It was plenty crowded, and the food proved to match the spirit. He never would have found the place without the clerk’s directions.
More than satisfied, he followed his number-eight combination plate with homemade pie and a last glass of iced tea before taking the bill up to the register. The waitress rang him up with a smile and bade him a cheery buenas noches.
By the time the remnants of the red chili chimichanga reminded him of its presence, he was already out in the dimly lit parking lot heading for the Caddy. As usual, he’d parked it a little ways from the next nearest vehicle to preserve it from careless dings and scratches.
Intent on calculating the next leg of his interstate odyssey, he didn’t notice the clutch of young locals until he’d unlocked the car. That’s what they’d been waiting for, he realized as they materialized around him. To see if he was the vehicle’s owner, and to learn if the Caddy was protected by any kind of custom alarm system.
“Nice car, man.”
He turned to confront them. There were half a dozen, all in their early to mid-twenties. Two or three he might have handled, but not six. Then he saw that even two would have been too many because they had their hands in their pockets. They might have been holding nothing more lethal than short-stemmed screwdrivers, but it was a chance he couldn’t take. It went a long ways toward explaining the strutting bravado of the much smaller individual who was addressing him contemptuously. The guy acted like he had high-caliber backup.
His black hair was cut short and a fragmentary mustache struggled to survive beneath his nose. His jeans were new but dirty and the only iron his long-sleeve western shirt had ever seen was wrought. Instead of boots he wore the kind of fancy sneakers hyped by overpaid basketball players. Their presence didn’t surprise him. He’d often seen three-hundred-dollars sneakers on the feet of men who didn’t make three hundred dollars a month. The economics of such relationships were best not questioned.
None of them were smiling, not even sarcastically. They were all business. The shortest and heaviest of the group, who very much resembled a deeply tanned beach ball, stood well behind his compadres, keeping an eye on the rest of the parking lot lest their business be disturbed by wandering kibitzers.
“Mind stepping around to the other side?” In case Ross Ed didn’t get the idea, the man gestured sharply.
“Look, guys, I don’t know what you’ve got in mind, but I’m just on my way out of town.”
