glance overhead to make sure that the jets hadn’t followed him down into shooting range, ran to the hovercraft and handed his packet to the man waiting at the open door. He received an envelope in exchange. The door slammed, the hovercraft backed off and then stirred the Pacific into a real froth as with all engines full out and propellers whirring it roared off south-bound. The hovercraft caught the jets totally by surprise and it was several minutes before they realized what had happened. The second pilot in a blaze of anger put his ship into a dive, yelling, “Why the son of a bitch!” into his microphone. He prepared his rockets for firing and at a thousand feet got the hovercraft into his crosshairs.
The first pilot chased him down and shouted into his mike, “Cool it, Johnny, for chrissakes. We’re over Mexico. You gonna declare war all by yourself?”
The scene in the office of Lieutenant King was the same as it had been before except that with the lieutenant absent Sergeant Cassidy, looking slightly grieved, was taking the brunt of West’s angry voice heard emerging from the receiver held some distance from his ear.
When the shouting had somewhat subsided the sergeant said, “I’m sorry, sir, I’m afraid not yet . . . Yeah, yeah, I know there was a bit of a mix up on the description but we’ve got it right now and it’s being broadcast every hour. I’m sorry about Mrs. West being took sick in bed but we oughta have some news any minute. See, you never know with these kids when they’re on the lam . . . No, no, sir, I didn’t mean that. Sure he ain’t on the lam. But we figure on him hitch-hiking and sooner or later the driver tunes in for the news and we’ve got him . . . Sure, sure, we’re checking on all the airports and terminals. The kid wouldn’t be going to Honolulu on a hundred and fifty bucks would he? . . . No, no, Mr. West, I ain’t tryin’ to be fresh. It’s only we got everybody workin’ on this. We’ll call you as soon as we hear anything.”
It was the sheer cosiness of the atmosphere aboard Bus 396 which at least temporarily spared Julian from the searching efforts of Sergeant Cassidy, for the sergeant had done his duty and notified all rail and bus terminals as well as police, state troopers and sheriffs’ offices in the vicinity. Luck and the bus driver’s preoccupation with the curious melting away of his passengers also helped Julian evade capture, for when the dispatcher in Oklahoma had routinely warned him to keep his eye out for a child travelling alone, the driver was still mulling over the mystery of his defecting passengers, and a further fact was that, except for a glimpse during the boarding at San Diego, he had never seen Julian actually travelling alone. The driver was not an intellectual giant and tooling one of those monsters across the continent called for the most intense concentration. The fact that one of the kids on his bus had been with three different parties failed to register. He had always appeared under the care of somebody.
And none of the passengers seemed interested in the news broadcasts.
It was shortly after two o’clock, the bus rolling at seventy miles an hour, a half an hour beyond Lordsburg bound for El Paso, that Julian’s incognito was to become violently destroyed.
There had been a short halt at Lordsburg for the passengers to buy luncheon and Marshall had treated handsomely. They had changed seats again with Marshall by the window. Julian had a hamburger roll in one hand, a bottle of Coke in the other and on his lap a paper plate containing a sticky cream puff and a Mars bar.
Marshall was munching a ham and cheese on rye and washing it down with a can of beer. His paper plate had apple pie and a slab of cheese on it. Elsewhere all over the bus luncheon parties were going on with the exception of the chess players who, now with only a few pieces remaining, were pursuing one another over the squares with increasing
The first pilot chased him down and shouted into his mike, “Cool it, Johnny, for chrissakes. We’re over Mexico. You gonna declare war all by yourself?”
The scene in the office of Lieutenant King was the same as it had been before except that with the lieutenant absent Sergeant Cassidy, looking slightly grieved, was taking the brunt of West’s angry voice heard emerging from the receiver held some distance from his ear.
When the shouting had somewhat subsided the sergeant said, “I’m sorry, sir, I’m afraid not yet . . . Yeah, yeah, I know there was a bit of a mix up on the description but we’ve got it right now and it’s being broadcast every hour. I’m sorry about Mrs. West being took sick in bed but we oughta have some news any minute. See, you never know with these kids when they’re on the lam . . . No, no, sir, I didn’t mean that. Sure he ain’t on the lam. But we figure on him hitch-hiking and sooner or later the driver tunes in for the news and we’ve got him . . . Sure, sure, we’re checking on all the airports and terminals. The kid wouldn’t be going to Honolulu on a hundred and fifty bucks would he? . . . No, no, Mr. West, I ain’t tryin’ to be fresh. It’s only we got everybody workin’ on this. We’ll call you as soon as we hear anything.”
It was the sheer cosiness of the atmosphere aboard Bus 396 which at least temporarily spared Julian from the searching efforts of Sergeant Cassidy, for the sergeant had done his duty and notified all rail and bus terminals as well as police, state troopers and sheriffs’ offices in the vicinity. Luck and the bus driver’s preoccupation with the curious melting away of his passengers also helped Julian evade capture, for when the dispatcher in Oklahoma had routinely warned him to keep his eye out for a child travelling alone, the driver was still mulling over the mystery of his defecting passengers, and a further fact was that, except for a glimpse during the boarding at San Diego, he had never seen Julian actually travelling alone. The driver was not an intellectual giant and tooling one of those monsters across the continent called for the most intense concentration. The fact that one of the kids on his bus had been with three different parties failed to register. He had always appeared under the care of somebody.
And none of the passengers seemed interested in the news broadcasts.
It was shortly after two o’clock, the bus rolling at seventy miles an hour, a half an hour beyond Lordsburg bound for El Paso, that Julian’s incognito was to become violently destroyed.
There had been a short halt at Lordsburg for the passengers to buy luncheon and Marshall had treated handsomely. They had changed seats again with Marshall by the window. Julian had a hamburger roll in one hand, a bottle of Coke in the other and on his lap a paper plate containing a sticky cream puff and a Mars bar.
Marshall was munching a ham and cheese on rye and washing it down with a can of beer. His paper plate had apple pie and a slab of cheese on it. Elsewhere all over the bus luncheon parties were going on with the exception of the chess players who, now with only a few pieces remaining, were pursuing one another over the squares with increasing
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