"What's that got to do with ir?"

"I'm coordinating this thing. It could as easily have been the Surgeon General or the Postmaster General, but more of it really falls into my area of responsibility.

I know the hardware best. I know the odds-"

"What are the odds?" asked Tanner.

For the first time, Denton dropped his eyes.

"Well, it's risky.. .."

"Nobody's ever done it before, except for that aut who ran it to bring the news and he's dead. How can you get odds out of that?"

"I know," said Denton slowly. "You're thinking it's a suicide job, and you're probably right. We're sending three cars, with two drivers in each. If any one just makes it close enough, its broadcast signals may serve to guide in a Boston driver. You don't have to go, though, you know."

"I know. I'm free to spend the rest of my life in prison."

"You killed three people. You could have gotten the death penalty."

"I didn't, so why talk about it? Look, mister, I don't

132.

want to die and I don't want the other bit either."

"Drive or don't drive. Take your choice. But remember, if you drive and you make it, all will be forgiven and you can go your own way. The nation of California will even pay for that motorcycle you appropriated and smashed up, not to mention the damage to that police car."

"Thanks a lot." And the winds boomed on the other side of the wall, and the steady staccato from the window

shields filled the room,

"You're a very good driver," said Denton, after a time.

"You've driven just about every vehicle there is to drive.

You've even raced. Back when you were smuggling, you used to make a monthly run to Salt Lake City. There are very few drivers who'll try that, even today."

Hell Tanner smiled, remembering something.

". . . And in the only legitimate job you ever held, you were the only man who'd make the mail run to Albuquer- que. There've only been a few others since you were

fired."

"That wasn't my fault."

"You were the best man on the Seattle run, too,"

Denton continued. "Your supervisor said so. What I'm try- ing to say is that, of anybody we could pick, you've prob- ably got the best chance of getting through. That's why we've been indulgent with you, but we can't afford to wait any longer. It's yes or no right now, and you'll leave within

the hour if it's yes."

Tanner raised his cuffed hands and gestured toward

the window.

"In all this crap?" he asked.

"The cars can take this storm," said Denton.

"Man, you're crazy,"

"People are dying even while we're talking," said

Denton.

"So a few more ain't about to make that much differ- ence. Can't we wait till tomorrow?"

"No! A man gave his life to bring us the newsl And we've got to get across the continent as fast as possible now or it won't matter! Storm or no storm, the cars leave nowl Your feelings on the matter don't mean a good god- damn in the face of thtsl All I want out of you. Hell, is one word: Which one will it be?"

"I'd like something to eat. I haven't..."

"There's food in the car. What's your answer?"

133.

Hell stared at the dark window.

"Okay," he said, "I'll run Damnation Alley for you.

I won't leave without a piece of paper with some writing on it, though."

"I've got it here."

Denton opened a drawer and withdrew a heavy card- board envelope from which he extracted a piece of sta- tionery bearing the Great Seal of the nation of California.

He stood and rounded the desk and handed it to Hell Tanner.

Hell studied it for several minutes, then said, "This says that if I make it to Boston I receive a full pardon for every criminal action I've ever committed within the nation of California ..."

"That's right."

"Does that include ones you might not know about now, if someone should come up with them later?"

"That's what it says, Hell-'every criminal action.' "

"Okay, you're on, fat boy. Get these bracelets off me and show me my car."

The man called Denton moved back to his seat on the other side of his desk.

"Let me tell you something else. Hell," he said. "If you try to cop out anywhere along the route, the other drivers have their orders, and they've agreed to follow them. They will open fire on you and burn you into little bitty ashes. Get the picture?"

"I get the picture," said Hell. "I take it I'm supposed to do them the same favor?"

"That is correct."

"Good enough. That might be fun."