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the area with glass。 Fragments of springs and plastic and fabric were forced deep into Terry Franklin's now lifeless corpse； which began to sear from the intense heat
The car； still in gear and torn almost in two； moved like a wounded crab diagonally across the intersection and lightly impacted a parked vehicle。 Then the engine quit from fuel starvation。 The severed fuel line dumped its liquid into the molten mess in the center of the vehicle and the smoldering wreckage became an inferno。 In ten seconds the fire was so hot the fuel tank exploded。
ing around the corner four blocks away； FBI agent Clarence Brown saw the rising fireball from the exploding gas tank。 He grabbed the dash…mounted mike。 〃Holy shit； his car blew up。 It blew up！ The subject's car blew up！〃
The voice on the telephone had a hollow； metallic sound； like it was ing through a long pipe。 〃Little development I thought you would want to know about； Luis。 Probably nothing important。 Terry Franklin just went out with a bang。 His car blew up。〃
〃Anybody else hurt； Dreyfus？〃
〃Not another soul。 We had an agent following him； keeping tabs per your instructions； and he saw the gas tank go poof。 The lab guys are on the way。 The agent at the scene； Brown； says it looks like a bomb。〃
〃What time； exactly？〃
〃Sixteen fifty…seven。〃
Camacho looked at his watch。 Seventeen minutes ago。 〃Get a search warrant for his house。〃
〃Already doing the affidavit。〃
〃Send a man over to the house to watch it。 And you'd better alert somebody out in California that they'll have to do a next…of…km notification when we get a positive ID from the medical examiner。〃
〃The ID's gonna take a while。 The corpse is still in the car； roasted like a Christmas turkey。〃
〃Have the people in California quietly check to see that his wife sad in…laws are physically there。〃
〃You knew this was going to happen； didn't you？〃
〃I just follow orders； asshole；〃 Camacho snarled。 〃Why don't you do the same？〃 He slammed the phone onto its cradle。
Two minutes later it rang again。 〃Yes。〃
〃Dreyfus again。 Already we're getting calls from TV stations。 There's a chopper overhead now。 It's real visual with the smoke column and all。 Evening news for sure； distraught housewives and sobbing kids； the whole bit。 What's the official hot screaming poop？〃
〃We're investigating； cooperating with the local police。 Off the record； hint at drugs。〃
〃Roger hint。〃
〃Is local law on the scene？〃
〃Yeah。 Couple cruisers and a big red fire truck。〃
〃Don't let 'em touch anything。〃
〃Roger Wilco； over and out。〃
Luis Camacho pulled into his driveway at five minutes after midnight and checked the jury…rigged bulb in the hole in the door panel。 Still off。 Amen。
The night air retained some of the heat from the day。 The FBI agent stood in his shirt sleeves beside his car and breathed the deep； rich scent of the earth。
The neighborhood was quiet。 He could hear crickets。
All the lights were off in Harlan Albright's house。 Only a gleam of the hall light was visible through the window of his own door。 Camacho picked up the package on his front seat and locked his car； then used his key on the front door。 He shot the bolt behind him。
There was a note by the phone。 Albright had called。
Camacho poured himself a bourbon and added three ice cubes from the tray in the freezer。 He opened the kitchen door and stood there sipping his drink and looking at the shadows in the backyard。 The dog whined and wagged its tail。
Taking his time； Camacho strolled the length of the yard and seated himself in the tire swing hanging from the old oak。 He absently petted the dog and made forting noises as he sipped the liquor and let the alcohol take effect
It would be interesting to see how many of those servos were still in Albright's mad bomber kit。 And the batteries and fuses。
You sure had to take your hat off to Peter Aleksandrovich； a…ka good ol' Harlan； Terry Franklin's sudden end had been a nice tidy job。 No loose ends。 No secondary casualties that might fester into an eventual murder indictment that would make a spy swap impossible； should the worst happen and he get arrested by the FBI。 Terry Franklin had been very neatly and permanently silenced。 Scratch one asset…turned…debit。 Clean up that balance sheet。 Wipe off the red ink； and； mild！ we have a profitable enterprise； as anyone can plainly see。
Good ol' Harlan's house was as dark as a tomb。 The big maples in front shielded it from the streetlights and the oaks and beeches here in back performed a similar service with that little alley light。 So the house was just a looming black shape。
Camacho thought about the stairs up to the bedroom； pictured himself once again slipping up there； careful as a mouse； looking for booby traps； prying open the trapdoor to the attic…he shivered as he thought about it。 Good ol' Harlan would probably rig some more unpleasant surprises； tike plastique that goes boom when the someone ing into a room steps in the wrong place； or forgets to turn the light on and off three times in three seconds。 Good ol' Harlan would be just the man for a little rig like that。
Wonder if Harlan's found the blank film in the camera？ Had Camacho been careful enough with the operation？ Had he tripped a camera he didn't find？ If so； that bulb in the door would e on very soon。
His fatigue hit him all at once。 It was all he could do to walk back to the house； lock the door； and ascend the stairs。 He stripped off his clothes and fell into bed。
〃I don't want to ever get married；〃 Rita said。
〃Me neither；〃 Toad Tarkington agreed fervently。 〃Half the marriages fail； kids in single…parent households； everybody broke…who needs it？〃 It was a pretty Saturday morning and they were on their way to a restaurant for breakfast； with Toad at the wheel。
〃People should be free to have a relationship without being bound；〃 she said。
〃When two people break up they shouldn't have to hire lawyers to fight over the dog。〃
〃Marriage is an obsolete institution。〃
〃It's doomed；〃 Toad pronounced； sounding a good bit like Samuel Dodgers denouncing sin； which was probably unintentional。 But to prove he wasn't a bigot he added； 〃Of course； my parents are happily married。 Thirty…five years this July。 It's a lot tougher nowadays； though。 My sister was only married three years； one kid…the divorce was real messy。 My dad had to help her with the legal fees。〃
〃Did she get custody？〃 Rita asked。
Toad told her about it。 Both of them shook their heads sadly。 Truly； modern marriage was a misery。
〃Two people who love each other don't need all that；〃 Rita sniffed。 〃I want a man who loves me and wants to be with me； not because he has to； but because he wants to。〃
〃It's the has…to part that turns me off；〃 Toad explained。 〃You know； I think it's terrific that you and I think so much alike。〃
〃Well； we're very similar。 We both have middle…class backgrounds； good educations； we're naval officers； we fly。 You're only a year older than I am。 It's no wonder。〃
〃I guess。〃
Toad wheeled her Mazda into the restaurant parking lot and found a space。 He opened the door for Rita and she smiled her thanks； a gorgeous little grin that be returned。 She rested her fingers lightly on his arm as they walked across the macadam。 He held the door for her and she preceded him through。 He had never felt better in his life…so alive； so into all of it。 They loved each other without strings。 And the best part； he told himself； was that they could be so forthright； so frank with each other。 Wouldn't the world be a better place if everyone's relationships were so open and honest？
They were married that afternoon in Oakland； Maryland。
The glider wheeled and soared six feet above the dune； the sun flashing on its wings。 Jake Grafton sat in the sand with the wind at his back。 David and Amy sat beside him； hugging their knees。 He manipulated the levers on the radio control box without taking his eyes from the free…flying bird。
〃Remember to keep the nose up in the turns；〃 David reminded him as the glider reached the tuft of sea grass a hundred feet north along the dune where Jake had been turning。 He had the technique now； he hoped。 He hadn't crashed in ten minutes。 He thought he could stay aloft as long as the wind remained steady。
Back the glider came； crossing silently above their heads。 〃Totally awesome；〃 David murmured。
〃Awesome〃 seemed to be the word this year in the sixth grade。
What had it been when Jake had been twelve years old？ He tried to remember and drew a blank。
Amy Carol stretched out in the sand on her stomach； her chin on her forearms。 Her figure was still a collection of straight lines。 Callie said she would start to fill out soon。 David matched her position； his big feet incongruous beside Amy's petite ones。 No doubt his growth would also spurt in the next year or so； he already had the feet of a good…sized man； though the rest of him had a lot further to go。
〃Your dad's gonna be a pretty good pilot；〃 David told her。
〃He isn't my dad。 He's Jake。〃
〃He's gonna be good；〃 David insisted。
〃That's not so tough to do；〃 she said； sitting up。
〃Oh no？ Why don't you try it。〃
〃Can I； Jake？〃
〃Yeah。 e over her