'Myers. Andrew Myers.'
'And how are you going to do it?'
'We got a fire engine.'
Grofield waited, but Morton had nothing else to say, so finally Grofield said, 'Well, bully for you. So you've got a fire engine, so what?'
'Myers has it set for a fire to start there tomorrow. At the brewery. And we'll show up in the fire engine, that's how we'll get in.'
'What about the regular fire engines?'
'We're blowing them up. Myers set that up, too, he's got a bomb in the police station. The firehouse and the police station are the same building, he's got a bomb in there to blow it up. So there won't be any other fire engine coming, and there won't be any cops chasing us when we leave.'
'You're going to leave in the fire engine, too?'
'Sure.'
'And go where? Back to the house where I picked you up?'
'Yeah. Not in the fire engine.'
'Not in the fire engine.'
'We got two cars stashed, right in town.'
'Where in town?'
'There used to be a tank parts factory here, way back in World War Two. They're using the factory for something else now, but down behind it there's a warehouse and some railroad tracks they don't use any more. You know, tracks in from the regular tracks.'
'A spur line,' Grofield suggested.
'Yeah. They're all rusty, they're never used any more.'
'And?'
'And we got two cars down by there. In the warehouse. We drive the fire engine in, we plant the other bomb, we drive the two cars out and split up and take off and meet back at the hideout.'
'What other bomb?'
'We're gonna blow up the fire engine. So there's no fingerprints or clues. And to make more confusion in the town – to help us make the getaway.'
'Myers has a very explosive mind,' Grofield said. 'So then you're going to drive the two cars back to the hideout. And then what? Wait a few days till the excitement dies down?'
'Sure.'
That was another of Myers' flaws, though Grofield saw no point in mentioning it. But the kind of wave Grofield saw Myers making was not the kind of wave that died down very quickly. For at least a couple of weeks, the locals would be up in arms – vigilante groups visiting abandoned buildings; boy scouts searching the surrounding countryside; police roadblocks everywhere. If they stayed put, they'd be found. If they moved, they'd be caught. After the kind of ruckus Myers planned to make, the only thing to do was take off as fast as possible and not stop until you were separated from the scene of the crime by at least an ocean or a continent. Preferably both.
But back to another step in the plan. Grofield said, 'Tell me about these two cars. What make are they?'
'One's a Buick and the other one's a Rambler.'
'Colors?'
Morton frowned in confusion, but answered. 'The Buick's kind of tan, and the Rambler's light blue.'
'Both sedans?'
'Yeah. I don't get the point.'
'You don't have to,' Grofield said. 'What's the plan? Three men in each car?'
'Right.'
'Tell me about it.'
'Well, Myers and two others in one-'
'What two others? Give me their names.'
Morton looked troubled and truculent. 'I don't think I ought to give you any more names. I don't know who you are or what you're up to.'
'And you can tell the boys,' Grofield said, 'that you got your pneumonia for their sake. Assuming you ever see them again.' He opened the door.
'All right!'
Grofield shut the door.
'I'll tell you,' Morton said angrily. 'But I'll tell you something else, too. If I ever get my hands on you, you're gonna wish you were a piano salesman instead.'
