the median of the John F。 Kennedy Highway； offering full restaurant services along with gas and oil … good coffee； but； understandably； no alcoholic beverages。 The Dart took a few meandering turns in the parking lot； finally stopping three spaces from a white Oldsmobile with Pennsylvania tags and a brown vinyl top。 The Roadrunner took a space in the next row。 A woman got out and walked towards the brick restaurant； a path that took her past the Olds。
‘Hey； baby；‘ a man said。 The woman stopped and took a few steps towards the vinyl…topped automobile。 The man was Caucasian； with long but neatly bed black hair and an open…necked white shirt。
‘Henry sent me；‘ she said。
‘I know。‘ He reached out to stroke her face； a gesture which she did not resist。 He looked around a little before moving his hand downwards。 ‘You have what I want； baby？‘
‘Yes。‘ She smiled。 It was a forced； uneasy smile； frightened but not embarrassed。 Doris was months beyond embarrassment。
‘Nice tits；‘ the man said with no emotional content at all in his voice。 ‘Get the stuff。‘
Doris walked back to her car； as though she‘d forgotten something。 She returned with a large purse； almost a small duffel； really。 As she walked past the Olds； the man‘s hand reached out and took it。 Doris proceeded into the building； returning a minute later holding a can of soda； her eyes on the Roadrunner； hoping that she‘d done everything right。 The Olds had its motor running； and the driver blew her a kiss； to which she responded with a wan smile。
‘That was easy enough；‘ Henry Tucker said； fifty yards away； at the outdoor eating area on the other side of the building。
‘Good stuff？‘ another man asked Tony Piaggi。 The three of them sat at the same table； ‘enjoying‘ the sultry evening while the majority of the patrons were inside with the air conditioning。
‘The best。 Same as the sample we gave you two weeks ago。 Same shipment and everything；‘ Piaggi assured him。
‘And if the mule gets burned？‘ the man from Philadelphia asked。
‘She won‘t talk；‘ Tucker assured him。 ‘They‘ve all seen what happens to bad girls。‘ As they watched； a man got out of the Roadrunner and got into the Dart‘s driver‘s seat。
‘Very good；‘ Rick told Doris。
‘Can we go now？‘ she asked him； shaking now that the job was over； sipping nervously at her soda。
‘Sure； baby； I know what you want。‘ Rick smiled and started the car。 ‘Be nice； now。 Show me something。‘
‘There‘s people around；‘ Doris said。
‘So？‘
Without another word； Doris unbuttoned her shirt … it was a man‘s shin…leaving it tucked into her faded shorts。 Rick reached in and smiled； turning the wheel with his left hand。 It could have been worse； Doris told herself； closing her eyes； pretending that she was someone else in some other place； wondering how long before her life would end too； hoping it wouldn‘t be long。
‘The money？‘ Piaggi asked。
‘I need a cup of coffee。‘ The other man got up and walked inside； leaving his briefcase； which Piaggi took in his hand。 He and Tucker walked off to his car； a blue Cadillac； without waiting for the other man to e back。
‘Not going to count it？‘ Tucker asked halfway across the parking lot。
‘If he stiffs us； he knows what happens。 This is business； Henry。‘
"；That‘s right；‘ Tucker agreed。
‘Bill Murphy；‘ Kelly said。 ‘I understand you have some vacant apartments。‘ He held up the Sunday paper。
‘What are you looking for？‘
‘A one…bedroom would be fine。 I really just need a place to hang my clothes；‘ Kelly told the man。 ‘I travel a lot。‘
‘Salesman？‘ the manager asked。
‘That‘s right。 Machine tools。 I‘m new here … new territory； I mean。‘
It was an old garden…apartment plex； built soon after the Second World War for returning veterans； posed exclusively of three…story brick structures。 The trees looked about right for that time period。 They‘d been planted then and grown well； tall enough now to support a good population of squirrels； wide enough to give shade to the parking areas。 Kelly looked around approvingly as the manager took him to a first…floor furnished unit。
‘This is just fine；‘ Kelly announced。 He looked around； testing the kitchen sink and other plumbing fixtures。 The furniture was obviously used； but in decent shape。 There were even air conditioners in the windows of every room。
‘I have other ones …‘
‘This is just what I need。 How much？‘
‘One seventy…five a month； one month security deposit。‘
‘Utilities？‘
‘You can pay them yourself or we can bill it。 Some of our renters prefer that。 They‘ll average about forty…five dollars a month。‘
‘Easier to pay one bill than two or three。 Let‘s see。 One seventy…five； plus forty…five 。。。‘
‘Two…twenty；‘ the manager assured him。
‘Fine。‘ Kelly took out his wallet； handing over the bills。 He stopped。 ‘No； six…sixty； we‘ll make it three months； if that‘s okay。 And I need a receipt。‘ The helpful manager pulled a pad from his pocket and wrote one up on the spot。 ‘How about a phone？‘ Kelly asked。
‘I can have that done by Tuesday if you want。 There‘s another deposit for that。‘
‘Please take care of that； if you would。‘ Kelly handed over some more money。 ‘My stuff won‘t be here for a while。 Where can I get sheets and stuff？‘
‘Nothing much open today。 Tomorrow； lots of‘em。‘
Kelly looked through the bedroom door at the bare mattress。 He could see the lumps from this distance。 He shrugged。 ‘Well； I‘ve slept on worse。‘
‘Veteran？‘
‘Marine；‘ Kelly said。
‘So was I once；‘ the manager replied； surprising Kelly。 ‘You don‘t do anything wild； do you？‘ He didn‘t expect so； but the owner insisted that he ask； even ex…Marines。 The answer was a sheepish； reassuring grin。
‘I snore pretty bad； they tell me。‘
Twenty minutes later Kelly was in a cab heading downtown。 He got out at Penn Station and caught the next train to DC； where another taxi delivered him to his boat。 By nightfall Springer was headed down the Potomac。 It would have been so much easier； Kelly told himself； if there were just one person to help him。 So much of his time was tied up with useless muting。 But was it really useless？ Maybe not。 He was getting a lot of thinking done； and that was as important as his physical preparations。 Kelly arrived at his home just before midnight after siх continuous hours of thinking and planning。
Despite a weekend of almost nonstop motion； there was no time to dawdle。 Kelly packed clothing； most of it purchased in the suburbs of Washington。 Linens he would buy in Baltimore。 Food the same。 His 。45 automatic； plus the 。22…。45 conversion kit； was packed in with old clothing； along with two boxes of ammunition。 He shouldn‘t need more than that； Kelly thought； and ammo was heavy。 While he fabricated one more silencer； this one for the Woodsman； he thought through his preparations。 His physical condition was excellent； nearly as good as it had been in 3rd SOG； and he‘d been shooting every day。 His aim was probably better than it had ever been； he told himself； going through what were now almost mindless mechanical operations on the machine tools。 By three in the morning the new suppressor was fitted to the Woodsman and tested。 Thirty minutes after that he was back aboard Springer； headed north； looking forward to a few hours‘ sleep once he got past Annapolis。
It was a lonely night； with scattered clouds； and his mind drifted somewhat before he manded himself to concentrate。 He was not a lazy civilian anymore； but Kelly allowed himself his first beer in weeks while his mind churned over variables。 What had he forgotten？ The reassuring answer was that he could think of nothing。 The less…than…satisfactory thought was that he still knew little。 Billy with his red Plymouth muscle car。 A black guy named Henry。 He knew their area of operation。 And that was all。
But。
But he‘d fought armed and trained enemies with less knowledge than that； and though he would force himself to be just as careful now as he had been there； deep down he knew that he would acplish this mission。 Partly it was because he was more formidable than they； and far more highly motivated。 The other part； Kelly realized with surprise； was because he didn‘t care about the consequences； only the results。 He remembered something from his Catholic prep school； a passage from Virgil‘s Aeneid that had defined his mission almost two thousand years before： Una salus victus nullam sperare salutem。 The one hope of the doomed is not to hope for safety。 The very grimness of the thought made him smile as he sailed under the stars； light dispatched from distances so vast that it had begun its journey long before Kelly； or even Virgil； had been born。
The pills helped shut out reality； but not all the way。 Doris didn‘t so much think the thought as listen to it； sense it； like recognizing something that she didn‘t wish to face but refused to go away。 She was too dependent on the barbiturates now。 Sleep came hard to her； and in the emptiness of the room she was unable to avoid herself。 She would have taken more pills if she could； but they didn‘t allow her what she wanted； not that she wanted much。 Just brief oblivion； a short…term liberation from her fear； that was all … and that was something they had no inte