John's mind raced. He slowed the car down to the speed limit. Getting pulled over now would be bad. What could he do? What had happened so suddenly? He drove past the exit he'd usually take to his apartment. They'd be there for him now. He drove past the school. They'd look for him at cla.s.s.

Casey was shot. Casey may have been killed. Visgrath had Grace and Henry. They'd kidnapped Grace and Henry! John's breath came in short breaths. He pulled off the highway, found the first parking lot.

Dare he go to the police? What would he say? Grauptham House was a billion-dollar company. They had a security force. They had weapons. They used their money to buy secrecy. What could he do against them? He had no allies.

What could he do?

His eyes found the familiar logo of his bank across the street. That was one thing he did have. Money. His bank account had swollen with cash in the past few months and was still high even after the purchase of all the equipment for the lab.

It was time to make a withdrawal. He drove across the street and entered the bank.

The cashier looked at John oddly.

"Gold? You want gold?" she said.

"Can I withdraw everything as gold?" John said again.

"We don't have... At least I don't think we have...," she said. "Let me check."

The cashier-Molly according to her nameplate-entered another office. Through the window, John saw her point him out to another woman, presumably Molly's manager.

"Sir," the manager said when she emerged from the office, "you want to withdraw your five hundred and fifteen thousand dollars and receive it in gold?"

"Yes, please." John was feeling a little nervous suddenly. "Yes, and quickly."

The manager took a calculator and tapped it for a moment. "Sir, we don't have forty kilograms of gold here."

"How much do you have then?"

"Just a few coins."

"I'll take what you have, then," John said. "And the rest in cash."

"Sir?"

"Cash."

"Yes..., sir. Wouldn't you rather have a cashier's check?"

"No, cash. And can I see your phone book?"

John paged through the book, looking for metal dealers. If he was going to carry forty kilos of gold, he'd prefer not to do it in coins. They'd jingle a lot. Ideally, he'd prefer gold wire or foil, which he could wear easily on his body. He found a coin shop nearby.

The bankers managed to find sixty thousand dollars in American Eagle coins of a.s.sorted weights between one-tenth and one troy ounce. The seven kilograms couldn't go in his pockets. He'd need a backpack. He jotted down a sporting supply store's address near the coin dealer.

John left the bank with a satchel of cash and coins. He felt conspicuous, and he guessed he was, carrying a heavy bag from a bank. All the customers behind him in line watched him leave.

The coin dealer had no wire, only more coins, but the man knew where John could get some bullion bricks. He did have a few thousand more coins to sell John, as well as rolls sized for the gold coins.

"Most people don't roll these," the deater said. "They keep them for display."

"I'm keeping them for an investment."

The man shrugged. "You'll get better return from a good bond fund."

"Not where I'm going."

At the sporting goods store, he bought a huge camping backpack, a hunting knife, a switchblade, and a first-aid kit. He looked at the display cases of guns but chose against it. John remembered the sickening thunk of the crowbar on a skull. He would have to use his wits to beat Visgrath.

His next stop was an electronics store.

"IMCAL 212 boards?" the shop man said. He opened a catalog. "We've got one. In our store at the Chaney Mall."

"One?" John asked. "I need... more." Several thousand more.

"That's all we have," the clerk said. "Cutting-edge stuff."

"Where do you order them from?"

He turned over the catalog. It was from an electronics supply firm in Detroit.

"Can I have that number?"

"Sure."

"Can I see your phone book?"

"I wrote the number down."

"This is for something else."

The clerk handed the book over. John paged through to the listing of hospitals. His stomach had been churning as he'd made preparations. He needed to know how Casey was.

The closest hospital to the factory was Ardenwald. He wrote the number down next to the number for the supply firm. There was a pay phone on the sidewalk outside the shop. He dialed the hospital.

"I'm calling about a Casey Nicholson. Was she admitted?"

There was a pause while the woman looked. "I don't see that name here."

"She just came in, a gunshot wound."

"Oh, her. That paperwork hasn't come through yet."

"I'm her boyfriend. Can you tell me how she is? It's important."

"Hold on."

John waited, his heart thudding. He should have stayed with her. But Visgrath and company would have come back. If John had waited they might have opened the safe and gotten the device. It was his only edge. He wasn't even sure what he could do with it. Trade it, he hoped for Grace's and Henry's lives. He needed a safe base of operation. He needed- "Sir?"

"Yes, is she all right?"

"She is. The doctor says the bullet is in her shoulder. It missed the arteries and bone. She's in stable condition."

"What's her room number?"

"She doesn't have one a.s.signed."

"Thanks."

He suddenly felt better. Casey was all right. She wasn't dead. She wasn't in danger. For the moment she was safe, and that was enough. He dialed the next number.

"Foley's Electronic Supply."

"I need as many IMCAL 212 boards as you've got."

"Well, how many do you need?"

"How many do you got?"

"We have thousands, buddy."

"Are they right there in your store?"

"Yeah, in the warehouse."

"How late are you open?"

He could just make it. Then he'd find someplace safe to hide, and he had an idea of where.

The boxes were piled so high in the Trans Am that he couldn't see out the pa.s.senger's window and he had to use his side mirror instead of the rearview mirror. It was dark when he pulled into Bill and Janet's, but the lights were still on. If he'd arrived an hour later, they'd have been in bed.

"h.e.l.lo, John!" Janet cried, hugging him.

She's not my mother, John repeated to himself. "h.e.l.lo, Janet. How are you? How's Bill?"

"Good, good! We're watching Matlock Matlock reruns," she said. "You caught us just before bed. Bill! John's here." reruns," she said. "You caught us just before bed. Bill! John's here."

He sat with them for a few minutes. They didn't seem to have heard the news about Casey and he didn't want to get into it right then.

"I need a favor."

"Of course. What is it?" Bill said.

"I need to use the second barn."

"The second barn? Whatever for?"

When Bill and Janet had bought a few acres across the road from the Walders', it had included a dilapidated house and a barn. The house had been razed, but Bill had decided to keep the second barn, in case he ever tried cattle again. He never did, and the barn was empty. It had electricity, however, which was one of the reasons John wanted to use it.

"I need to do some work."

"Pine ball work?" Bill asked.

"Pinball. Sort of."

"Well, all right," Bill said. "I think I left the key in the box." He groaned as he rose and hobbled on shaky knees. John wanted to know how his parents were, whether arthritis was slowly creeping in on them as it was for this Bill and Janet, whether they watched Matlock Matlock reruns in the evening before going to bed at eight thirty. Nostalgia overwhelmed John, and he swallowed it down as he took the padlock key from Bill. reruns in the evening before going to bed at eight thirty. Nostalgia overwhelmed John, and he swallowed it down as he took the padlock key from Bill.

"Thanks. If someone comes looking-"

"-you aren't here," Bill said. He shook his head. "The youth of today with all their secrets. Probably building another pine ball empire in there. I saw a boy put six dollars in quarters into one of those machines the other day. Amazing. You get a cut of that?"

"We do."

"Good for you."

"Can I use your phone?"

He dialed the hospital and asked for Casey's status: stable and now she had a room number. He considered calling Visgrath, then refrained. Not yet, not until the device was safe. Not until he had thought his move through.

He bid the Rayburns good-bye and drove the Trans Am across the road and onto the dirt path that led to the second barn. It loomed black on black, obscuring a patch of stars from the sky as he neared it. Leaving the car running, he got out and unlocked the door. He drove the car into the barn and began unloading the boxes. An old workbench became his lab bench.

Cobwebs clung to the beams. The dim bulb cast weak shadows into the stalls and loft. He ticked off a list of things he'd need: extension cords, lamps, soldering gun, breadboards, wires, a box of resistors and capacitors.

He debated for a moment what to do with the device. Then he placed it in the backpack, along with one hundred thousand dollars in gold coins, and hid the backpack in the loft.

Locking the barn behind him, he drove as fast as he could toward the hospital in Toledo.

It was just fifteen minutes before the end of visitors' hours, but he convinced the attendant to let him go up the elevator to Casey's room.

The ward was dark and quiet except for an occasional lit room, a faint TV, and the beep-beep beep-beep of hospital equipment. He found Casey's room at the end of a cul-de-sac of rooms. The room was dark, and she was asleep inside. of hospital equipment. He found Casey's room at the end of a cul-de-sac of rooms. The room was dark, and she was asleep inside.

A nurse suddenly appeared.

"You are?"

"Her boyfriend."

"Oh, visiting hours are almost up."