'No,' he croaked. 'You left me back at the state line. Open this goddam thing. '
'Just a second. Place is empty right now. Your car's parked next to us. On the right. Can you get out quick?'
'I don't know.'
'Try hard. Here we go.'
The trunk lid popped up, letting in dim garage light. Richards got up on one arm, got one leg over the edge, and could go no farther. His cramped body screamed. Bradley took one arm and hauled him out. His legs wanted to buckle. Bradley hooked him under the armpit and half led, half pushed him to the battered green Wint on the right. He propped open the driver's side door, shoved Richards in, and slammed it shut. A moment later Bradley also slid in.
'Jesus,' he said softly. 'We got here, man. We got here.'
'Yeah,' Richards said. 'Back to Go. Collect two hundred dollars.'
They smoked in the shadows, their cigarettes gleaming like eyes. For a little while, neither of them said anything.
Minus 058 and COUNTING
'We almost got it at that first roadblock,' Bradley was saying as Richards tried to massage feeling back into his arm. It felt as if phantom nails had been pushed into it. 'That cop almost opened it. Almost.' He blew out smoke in a huge huff. Richards said nothing.
'How do you feel?' Bradley asked presently.
'It's getting better. Take my wallet out for me. I can't make my arm work just right yet. '
Bradley shooed the words away with one hand. 'Later. I want to tell you how Rich and I set it up. '
Richards lit another cigarette from the stub of the first. A dozen charley horses were loosening slowly.
'There's a hotel room reserved for you on Winthrop Street. The Winthrop House is the name of the place. Sounds fancy. It ain't. The name is Ogden Grassner. Can you remember that?'
'Yes. I'll be recognized immediately.'
Bradley reached into the back seat, got a box and dropped it in Richards's lap. It was long, brown, tied with string. To Richards it looked like the kind of box that rented graduation gowns come in. He looked at Bradley questioningly.
'Open it.'
He did. There was a pair of thick, blue-tinted glasses lying on top of a drift of black cloth. Richards put the glasses on the dashboard and took out the garment. It was a priest's robe. Beneath it, lying on the bottom of the box, was a rosary, a Bible, and a purple stole.
'A priest?' Richards asked.
'Right. You change right here. I'll help you. There's a cane in the back seat. Your act ain't blind, but it's pretty close. Bump into things. You're in Manchester to attend a Council of Churches meeting on drug abuse. Got it?'
'Yes,' Richards said. He hesitated, fingers on the buttons of his shirt. 'Do I wear my pants under this rig?'
Bradley burst out laughing.
Minus 057 and COUNTING
Bradley talked rapidly as he drove Richards across town.
'There's a box of gummed mailing labels in your suitcase,' he said. 'That's in the trunk. The stickers say: After five days return to Brickhill Manufacturing Company, Manchester, N.H. Rich and another guy ran em off. They got a press at the Stabbers' headquarters on Boylston Street. Every day you send your two tapes to me in a box with one of those stickers. I'll mail 'em to Games from Boston. Send the stuff Speed Delivery. That's one they'll never figure out.'
The car cozied up to the curb in front of the Winthrop House. 'This car will be back in the U-Park-It. Don't try to drive out of Manchester unless you change your disguise. You got to be a chameleon, man.'
'How long do you think it will be safe here?' Richards asked. He thought: I've put myself in his hands. It didn't seem that he could think rationally for himself anymore. He could smell mental exhaustion on himself like body odor.
'Your reservation's for a week. That might be okay. It might not. Play it by ear. There's a name and an address in the suitcase. Fella in Portland. Maine.
They'll hide you for a day or two. It'll cost, but they're safe. I gotta go, man. This is a five-minute zone. Money time.'
'How much?' Richards asked.
'Six hundred. '
'Bullshit. That doesn't even cover expenses. '
'Yes it does. With a few bucks left over for the family.'
'Take a thousand.'
'You need your dough, pal. Uh-uh. '
