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I got us into it. Luke shrugged and nodded in a way that said it was fine by
him.
Julia, however, was perturbed when they updated her on their thoughts. Why
risk getting mixed up with CounterAction people directly? she objected. If
you re seen or identified with them, it could start trouble that will never go
away. We ve had the ISS here already. You know what s going on all over the
country. We don t need to get mixed up in all that.
It seemed a strange turn of attitude after the things Cade had heard. Because
she s an old friend, remember? he replied. Look, I m not planning on getting
mixed up with anybody. All I m doing is taking her as far as a hotel lobby. I
don t even need to wait there with her just close enough to see she gets
picked up. That s it. Then I m on my way back.
Eventually, Julia relented, but she still didn t seem happy about it.
Accordingly, Cade and Rebecca made their preparations the evening before the
appointed day. Lou
Zinner s jet appeared at the John Wayne/Orange County airport early the next
morning as arranged, and they took off on time. En route, the plane was
challenged by two Air Force jets that radioed for identification and a mission
statement. Fortunately, the pilot had filed a flight plan, stated as serving
the private business needs of a Nevada-registered VIP. The plane landed at
Hartsfield International Airport, Atlanta, a little over four hours after
leaving California.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
F
RANK ACELLI HAD WORKED
P
night shift stocking supermarket shelves, sold kitchen ware, and part-
timed at a gas station to pay his way through college, and emerged with a
degree in chemistry and metallurgical engineering. He had worked first with a
couple of mining corporations in Minnesota and
Colorado, later at a smelting and rolling plant in Korea, done well, and come
back to a position as process designer with a company in Minneapolis. Then the
Hyadeans began flooding the world markets with bulk minerals extracted from
places like Bolivia by methods no Terran industry could compete with; the
company folded, and now Frank drove a taxicab. He got pretty mad when he heard
about some of the dealings that went on in Washington and the kind of money
some people were reputed to make out of them. But with three children of
high-school age to think about, he couldn t afford to risk getting directly
involved in the more militant protest organizations that everyone pretended
not to know about. But sympathizing with them was another thing. Much passed
his eyes that he didn t see, came to his ears that he didn t hear, and he
helped the cause when he could.
He turned off Peachtree Street into the motor lobby of the Metro hotel at the
time he had been given, and slowed to scan the few figures outside the main
entrance. The pudgy woman in the light blue coat and yellow hat, holding a
city guide prominently in one hand had to be the person he was to meet. She
had a suitcase and a large traveling bag beside her and seemed to be waiting,
looking around anxiously. Pacelli eased the cab forward, steering in toward
the curb in front of her.
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Then it struck him that a tallish man in a gray jacket, standing a few yards
away by the doors, was watching her. The conviction solidified when the man s
head turned to follow the cab as it closed in. An alarm sounding in his head,
Pacelli shifted his foot back to the gas pedal and sped up again, passing the
woman just as she was beginning to step forward. He caught a glimpse of her
mouth dropping open before he turned away to leave again through the lobby s
exit way. He stopped in a parking strip halfway around the block and pressed
the redial button of his phone to call the number already entered.
Yes? The voice that had given him his instructions answered.
This is Collector. The party s there, a woman. But there s a guy there too,
who looks like he s watching her. It didn t feel right, so I thought I d
better check.
Good thinking. Where are you now?
Just around the block.
Wait.
Pacelli drummed his fingers on the wheel nervously. He was just driving a cab,
sent to pick someone up from a hotel. They couldn t nail anyone for that,
right? He wasn t sure. From the things he heard, who knew what they could do
these days?
The city of Chattanooga lay just under a hundred miles north of Atlanta in
southeastern Tennessee, on the Tennessee River near the Georgia-Alabama line.
Three large mountain masses overlooked it, each one of strategic importance
and the scene of a major battle in the Civil War.
Marie and Len had arrived after an erratic tour through the Great Smoky range
to find Olsen safely there too, several hours ahead of them. That had been
over a week ago now. Their new temporary hideout until they were regrouped
consisted of a double-width mobile home situated among trees on hilly ground
to the north side of the city, between Signal Mountain and the river. Sharing
the quarters with them were two other CounterAction people known only as
Vera and Bert, both seemingly proficient, with another man that they
referred to as Otter. Marie could tell that Otter was not from the
organization. She got the feeling that he was in transit and temporary hiding,
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