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to　the　border。　Many　things　could　happen；　many　people　could　die。　Refugio　would　be　one　of
them　–　if　she　could　get　out　of　this　rancid　gutter。
Vanessa　squirmed　backward　until　she　was　beneath　a　parked　car。　She　did　not　notice　the　macadam
tearing　her　hands　or　the　rivulets　of　blood　on　her　face　from　the　first　explosion　of　glass。　She　had
only　one　thought　in　her　mind：　The　man　who　had　killed　Masarek　was　trying　to　kill　her。
With　an　eel…like　motion；　she　squirmed　from　beneath　the　car；　feinted　toward　the　sidewalk；　then
spun　on　one　foot　as　a　shot　exploded　off　the　curb。　Instantly　she　crouched　over；　weaving　toward
the　green　car。
Refugio　swore　and　tried　again；　but　as　Vanessa　crossed　to　the　street　side　of　the　parked　cars；　she
put　the　back　of　the　van　across　Refugio’s　sights。　He　dragged　himself　over　to　the　driver’s　side　of
the　van。　Vanessa　was　already　inside　her　car。　He　heard　an　engine　rev；　tires　shrieked　on　moist
pavement。　She　turned　the　car　around　and　was　accelerating　away　from　him。　He　pulled　the　trigger
but　no　sound　came。　The　gun　was　empty。　He　reloaded；　but　it　was　too　late。　She　was　gone。
Ana　ducked　reflexively　as　Vanessa’s　car　careened　by；　then　looked　up　the　street　toward　the　van。
A　shout　rang　out　as　clear　as　a　shot。　Ana　looked　in　the　sideview　mirror。　Behind　her；　far　down　the
block；　an　old；　fat　man　in　a　gray　watchman’s　uniform　was　waving　his　arm　to　someone　behind
him。　The　watchman　must　have　realized　what　a　fine　target　he　made　on　the　suddenly　empty　street。
He　ducked　back　into　the　cover　of　the　brick　building　he　was　guarding。
Ana　wanted　to　follow　his　example；　to　retreat　like　a　snail　behind　a　protective　coil　of　shell。　She　did
not　want　to　climb　into　the　driver’s　seat；　start　the　van　and　drive　past　shattered　glass　up　to　the
laundry　truck。　She　did　not　want　to　do　anything　except　hide。　But　she　started　the　van　and　drove　up
to　the　laundry　truck　anyway。　Kestrel　had　taught　her　that　there　was　more　to　life　than　fear。
She　leaned　across　the　seat；　rolled　down　the　window　on　the　far　side；　and　called　out　softly：
“Refugio？”
If　Ana’s　hair　had　been　any　color　except　black；　she　would　have　died　in　Refugio’s　first　startled
reflex。　As　it　was；　Refugio　hesitated；　then　spoke　in　rapid　Spanish。
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“Ana？　Is　it　you；　Ana？”
“Yes。　How　are　you？”
It　was　not　an　idle　greeting。　Ana　was　concerned　by　the　thready　sound　of　Refugio’s　voice。
“Fine；”　Refugio　said；　lying。
Refugio　heaved　himself　over　the　seat　into　the　back　of　the　van；　swearing　volubly。　Sweating；　dizzy；
he　bent　over　the　two　canvas　bags　containing　the　uranium。　He　wanted　Ana’s　help　now；　but　she
was　only　a　woman；　if　she　saw　the　bloody　mess　inside　the　van；　she　might　run　away。　He　needed
her。　She　must　drive　for　him；　because　he　knew　that　the　pain　he　felt　now　was　nothing　to　what　he
would　feel　when　the　first　shock　of　being　wounded　wore　off。
“Refugio？”　said　Ana。　She　could　not　see　him；　could　only　hear　him。　“Do　you　need　help？”
Refugio　tried　to　pick　up　both　sacks　at　once；　but　could　not。　The　pieces　of　metal　thumped
together　in　their　sacks；　bounced；　then　rested　against　each　other；　separated　only　by　two　layers　of
canvas。　The　cloth　blushed　with　a　vague　blue　light。　The　heavier　sack　slipped　out　of　his　grasp。　The
blue　light　faded。
“Refugio？”　asked　Ana　again。
“　Yes；”　he　said　wearily。　“　Come　to　the　back　of　the　van。”
Refugio　opened　the　back　door　just　enough　to　hand　out　the　sack　containing　the　smaller　piece　of
uranium。
“Put　it　in　your　truck。”
Ana　reached　for　the　bag　before　she　realized　that　the　hand　holding　it　was　smeared　with　blood。
“You’re　hurt。”
“The　bag！”　said　Refugio　savagely。　“Take　it！”
Ana　snatched　the　bag；　flung　it　into　the　flower　truck　and　ran　back　just　as　Refugio　was　trying　to
climb　out　the　rear　of　the　laundry　truck。　Her　horrified　glance　went　from　his　leg　to　the　corpses　in
the　van。　She　closed　her　eyes　and　did　not　open　them　until　she　turned　her　back　on　the　bloody　van。
“Can　you　walk？”　she　asked。
“Take　the　bag。”
The　second　laundry　sack　was　heavier　than　the　first　had　been；　and　liberally　smeared　with　blood。
Ana　flung　the　bag　into　the　flower　truck；　slammed　the　door　shut　and　rushed　back　to　help
Refugio。
The　second　bag　thumped　to　a　rest　against　a　wicker　flower　stand　in　the　rear　of　the　truck。　The　first
bag　lay　partway　under　the　passenger　seat。　Only　gray　light　relieved　the　gloomy　interior　of　the　van。
In　the　distance　sirens　keened。　Ana　remembered　the　night　watchman。　She　had　no　doubt　that　the
sirens　were　coming　to　the　waterfront；　they　were　drawn　by　death　as　unerringly　as　vultures
spiraling　down　hot　desert　air。
With　a　strength　that　surprised　Refugio；　she　boosted　him　into　the　passenger　seat　of　the　flower
truck；　slammed　shut　the　engine　compartment　and　leaped　into　the　driver’s　seat。
The　van　turned　around　and　raced　along　the　waterfront。　Ana　did　not　notice　the　car　parked　along
the　street　leading　to　the　bridge；　nor　the　driver　blotting　up　blood　that　dripped　into　her　eyes；
making　driving　more　dangerous　than　hiding。
When　the　cream…colored　van　loomed　out　of　the　fog；　Vanessa　thought　that　Refugio　had　followed
her　to　finish　her　off。　She　grabbed　her　reloaded　pistol　and　aimed　toward　the　driver’s　side　of　the
oncoming　van。　Refugio　would　have　to　slow　down　to　get　off　a　telling　shot。　When　he　slowed；　she
would　fire。
The　van　swept　by　without　pausing；　but　not　before　Vanessa　recognized　the　man　slumped　against
the　window　–　Refugio。　Automatically　she　memorized　the　truck’s　license　plate。　When　the　van
turned　the　corner；　she　followed；　trying　to　keep　the　van　in　sight　without　revealing　her　own
presence。　Mist　and　morning　traffic　defeated　her。　Before　she　reached　the　Bay　Bridge；　the　van　had
disappeared　into　fog　that　would　not　burn　off　until　noon。
Vanessa　turned　the　car　toward　the　waterfront；　wondering　where　Masarek　was　and　whether　he
was　still　alive。　How　had　Refugio　escaped　him？　Where　had　the　second　truck　come　from；　and　who
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had　driven　Refugio　away？　But　most　of　all　–　where　was　the　uranium？
Sirens　ululated　through　the　mist；　converging　on　the　waterfront。　A　police　car　ran　a　stop　sign　at
right　angles　to　Vanessa’s　car　and　roared　down　the　street　leading　to　the　Good　Luck　laundry　van。
A　second　squad　car　quickly　followed。　She　eased　out　into　the　intersection　until　she　could　see　the
van。　Both　squad　cars　jerked　to　a　stop　near　it。　Policemen　leaped　out；　guns　drawn。　They　yanked
open　the　van’s　doors。　No　shots　were　fired。　No　one　came　out　of　it。
Vanessa　drove　by　the　entrance　to　the　waterfront。　If　Masarek　were　in　the　van　there　was　nothing
she　could　do　for　him。　If　the　uranium　were　there　–　Resolutely；　she　examined　the　possibilities　of
the　situation。　Either　Masarek　was　alive　and　had　escaped　with　the　uranium；　in　which　case　he
would　call　the　prearranged　number　to　re…establish　contact　with　her；　or　he　was　dead　and　the
uranium　was　in　the　van。　If　the　latter　were　true；　the　uranium　was　lost　to　her　and　to　Russia；　and　she
would　soon　be　as　dead　as　Masarek。　Beria　did　not　tolerate　failures。
There　was；　however；　a　third　possibility。　Refugio　might　have　managed　to　escape　with　the
uranium。　He　had　proved　to　be　a　more　formidable　man　that　either　she　or　Masarek　expected。　But
now　she　was　warned；　she　would　find　Refugio；　kill　him　and　take　back　the　uranium。
Vanessa　nodded；　choosing　to　act　on　the　third　possibility。　She　must　find　Refugio　quickly；　before
he　realized　that　what　he　had　stolen　could　be　sold　back　to　the　Americans　for　more　money　than
his　greedy　peasant　mind　could　imagine。　The　truck　was　her　only　lead。　Somehow　she　must　trace
the　truck。
Jornada　del　Muerto；　New　Mexico
5　Hours　14　Minutes　After　Trinity
Kestrel　drove　the　narrow　desert　with　fierce　concentration。　Heat　made　his　Indio　makeup　blur
and　run；　but　there　was　no　one　close　enough　to　notice。　Even　so；　he　would　have　to　pull　off　and
change　his　clothes。　A　flimsy　disguise　was　dangerous；　and　the　need　for　this　one　was　gone。
He　sped　toward　El　Paso　and　a　public　telephone　that　he　could　use　to　call　Takagura　again。　The
telephone　call　would　be　risky　but　necessary。　He　must　have　a　reply　to　the　message　he　had　sent。　If
new　orders　had　been　issued　he　must　have　those；　too。
Perhaps　Ana　had　called　Takagura；　reporting　the　success　or　failure　of　Refugio。
Kestrel　noticed　his　speed　and　slowed　down；　watching　for　side　roads。　In　his　haste　he　had　already
bec