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"WARBURTON has found them," Howard said.
Andrea looked up from the magazine she had been reading, trying to stay awake. After she had set them on the right track she had completely lost interest in the search. Again, she was far from sure whose side she was on, though she felt she had owed it to Howard to give him her advice.
"Crossing the border?"
"No, but you were right. They plan to cross in the morning." He explained it to her as they left the plane and walked the short distance to the helicopter. A wind was rising, and she could see storm clouds to the west. Not her idea of a good night to fly, but she wasn't too worried about it. They got aboard and lifted off quickly. They passed out over water and then Howard, sitting beside her in the backseat, looked thoughtful. They were wearing earpiece/mike units so they could talk over the noise of the chopper. Howard keyed the pilot.
"It's on Whidbey Island, sir. The Admiralty Inlet to Puget Sound lies between them. Say ten air miles."
Howard smiled.
"Let's arrive in style," he said to Andrea, then punched a name into his telephone. "Hello? Frank? It's Howard Christian... yeah, I know what time it is. I wouldn't be calling if it wasn't important. What it is, I was wondering if I could borrow your boat?" He held the phone away from his ear and gri
THE boat was an eighty-foot Bertram with twin 1500 horsepower engines. Howard was not much of a nautical man, though he owned a larger yacht than this at Bahia Mar, Lauderdale, and sometimes puttered around the inland waterways of Florida in it. He knew how to pull away from the dock and he knew how to pull into the dock, what was so tough about that? Besides, this rig could literally drive itself. You could input a destination and it would plot the best course and keep a radar eye out for traffic. No need to look for cha
Howard and Andrea boarded, cast off, and pulled slowly away from the small marina at the north end of Whidbey Island, threaded through a passage marked on the electronic chart as Deception Pass, and then moved into moderately choppy seas down the west side of the island and into the Strait of Juan de Fuca.
Halfway there Warburton called.
"They're moving. I'm behind them, they should get there in five minutes. I'll meet you there."
"See you in twenty minutes."
THEY drove the trailer down a ramp and onto a pier jutting out into the sound. It looked new, or recently refurbished; all that federal money, Warburton guessed. The pier was four lanes wide, paved, and had a stout barrier at the end where the ferry would dock in a few hours. The truck and trailer pulled up to the barrier and cut its lights and engine. The first departure was at six A.M. There were no other vehicles parked on the pavement.
Warburton got off his motorcycle at the top of the ramp and walked slowly down toward the trailer. There were two empty lanes to the left of it, where cars would pull off the ferry. Near the barrier was a stairway leading down to a small dock that should accommodate Howard's boat when it arrived. Warburton wasn't sure the boat was a good idea, but it was better than landing a helicopter here in the middle of the night, which was sure to attract attention. And anyway, this was how Howard wanted to do it, and he was the boss.
"Howard...," Andrea said.
"Just a precaution, darling," Howard said. He knocked on the door. There was no answer, so he knocked again. The curtain covering the window in the door was raised, but they couldn't see anything inside. Warburton held up the pistol, pointing toward the sky. The door opened, and steps extended themselves hydraulically.
"Come on out, Susan," Howard said into the darkness.
"What if I call CNN?"
"Then I look foolish for a while, and you both go to jail. Is it worth it?"
Susan snapped on an outside light and an inside one. She and Matt were standing there, hastily dressed, barefoot. Susan was crying. Matt had no expression.
"Can I say good-bye to him?"
"I'll give you one minute."
Susan moved toward the back of the trailer. Howard didn't like the look Andrea was giving him. Well, what was I supposed to do, let her get away with it? He had expected to feel a lot better about this, but the sense of triumph of only a few moments ago seemed to have washed away in the rain. Why did she have to cry? I'm not a bully. I've been bullied, until I got too big to push around.
Matt came down the steps and stood there, getting wet, giving Susan her privacy. His eyes never left Howard, but he said nothing.
Susan appeared, drying her eyes on her sleeve, and started down the steps.
Fuzzy bellowed.
The whole trailer shook. In the back, the side of the trailer dimpled inward, then sprung back. Another bellow, and again the dimple appeared, and this time it didn't pop back out.
Howard hastily climbed the steps and stuck his head in the door. The mammoth was agitated, rocking back and forth against his chains, but Howard had seen this arrangement before, he knew even Big Mama could not have torn herself loose. The sides of the trailer were holding. Maybe it would be necessary to let Susan ride back here on the return to Fuzzyland, keep him calmed down until he got back in his familiar quarters.
Then he saw the time machine, sitting right there on the table with its top open. Suddenly all the excitement he had been feeling came rushing back at him. It was a good day. It was a damn good day!
He sat where Matt had been sitting and just stared at it for a moment, visions of T. rexes and brontosaurs dancing in his head. Matthew Wright wasn't the only genius in the world, not the only man who could figure this thing out. In fact, according to Matt, he never had figured it out. The damn thing just turned itself on, took him somewhere, and then brought him back again.
Matt was the only one who witnessed the thing doing whatever it did, and that might help, so maybe he could work out a deal with him to work on it again, though the prospect made him feel like gagging.
Whatever. It had been demonstrated that the thing worked, that was beyond question, and if it worked once Howard could make it work again.
He closed the lid, noticing the dents made when that maniac hit it that night in the warehouse. He snapped the catches, and stood up. He didn't hear the sound of Fuzzy's harness leather ripping.
The next thing he knew, Fuzzy had wrapped his trunk around his neck and slammed him to the floor on his back. He looked up into two tons of angry, hairy death as Fuzzy rammed his massive head downward. He screamed.
Susan bolted back up the stairs. Fuzzy had Howard pi
"Fuzzy! Up, Fuzzy, up! Up, Fuzzy!"
The mammoth paused, down on his knees.
"Up, Fuzzy! That's a good boy. Up, Fuzzy."
Fuzzy moved back slightly, got to his feet, looked down at Howard as if wondering if he might take just one more poke at the guy who had upset Susan so much... then backed up to where he had been and stood there, swaying gently.
"Go, Howard," Susan said quietly. "Just get out of here."
Howard scrambled to his feet, thankful he hadn't wet himself. He brushed himself off, and went outside.
"Are you okay, darling?" Andrea went to him and put her arms around him. She could feel him shaking. He hugged her, and turned to Warburton.
"Will do."