"What is a scanner?" Paul inquired.
"A special radio that monitors police frequencies. I'd love to know what those clowns are saying to each other right now."
Molly smiled. "Much of it probably isn't suitable for mixed company."
"Probably not. It should take them a while to figure out that we made like those people in Judea and fleed to the mountains."
"That's 'fled,"' Molly corrected.
"Fled who? I knew a guy back in the states named Fled. Or was it Fred?"
"You're insane. And 'fleed' sounds like we're infested with parasites."
"Speak for yourself."
"The only parasite I have, Mr. Hall, is yourself, thank you." Molly tried to look as indignant as her nature would allow.
" Me? Listen chick. Me and Tonto are the brains of this outfit, remember? You're the baggage end."
Molly was about to respond when Paul said, "If you two will permit a minor interruption, perhaps you should look up."
Bill and Molly looked at each other. Together they said, "Up?"
"Up and about two kilometers back," Paul said. Bill looked in the mirror and saw that Paul's face was white. Marie sat, her eyes transfixed out the back window.
Bill searched his side-view mirror, then pounded the steering wheel in frustration. The little dot was still a long way off, but it definitely represented a plane. No lateral movement meant it was approaching their position.
"Do you think it is the police, Bill?" Marie's voice trembled.
"Can't tell from here. But we also can't afford to take a chance. We've got to find a place to duck until it passes over."
The nearest place to hide the car seemed to be a small gathering of trees on the left, about half a mile ahead. Bill floored the gas pedal and prayed for strength. For the car, that is.
About halfway to the trees, Bill mumbled, "Uh-oh."
Molly asked, "What is it?"
"She's getting hot. Starting to steam."
"Who is, Bill?" Paul asked.
"The car."
"Why do you call it 'she'?"
"We call cars 'she' because they're fickle and unpredictable and never do what you want them to do."
Molly coughed. "Marie and I will discuss that with you later."
"No doubt. For now I'm not really interested in sending up smoke signals to tell that plane where we are."
"What do you propose?"
"Only one thing to do: panic."
"Very funny. And then?"
"Good question."
The engine howled. The trees approached. Bill swerved toward them, throwing Marie into Paul's lap. Bill guided the car's snout into the trees and snapped off the key. By the time the engine stopped he was halfway out the door. "Grab that pillow, Paul. Come on."
Paul snatched up the pillow and bounded out of the car. Bill ripped off his shirt and threw up the car's hood. Paul appeared at his side and asked, "What are we going to do?" "Hold that pillow up here. When I pop the cap, slap it over the spout. Hopefully it'll soak up enough steam. Keep your hands away from the metal, and away from where the spout is so you don't get burned." Bill wrapped his shirt around his right hand and looked at Paul. The engine's lifeblood seethed out from around the radiator cap. "Ready?"
Paul poised the pillow. "Ready."
"Now." Bill clamped down on the cap and twisted as hard as he could. As he released his grip the cap shot up into the air like one of the missiles that got him into this mess in the first place. It ricocheted off the hood and sailed away. Instantly, Paul jammed the pillow down onto the man-made geyser. He gritted his teeth and held. "It is hard to hold down, Bill."
Bill wrapped his hands around Paul's and lent his muscles to the struggle. The overheated metal squealed like a young pig. Wisps of steam curled up from the top of the pillow and Paul whispered, "It is getting hot. It begins to hurt."
"Let me take it awhile. Go over to the edge of the trees and see if you can spot that plane."
"Mother and Molly are already there."
"Then go help them."
"No."
Bill looked up from his hands. "Huh?"
Paul stared him down. "You need my help more than they. I will let go for a moment, then I will hold it and you let go."
"Take turns so neither one of us gets cooked."
"Exactly."
"Where have you been all my life?"
"At home with my mama."
"Well, ask a silly question."
"I think she is calmer."
Bill listened. He raised a corner of the pillow and peeped underneath. "I think you're right."
Paul lifted the pillow. A little breath of steam still whispered up, but it tended to dissipate about a foot above the radiator spout. Bill nodded his satisfaction and said, "We did it, Tonto."
"Why do you call me that?"
Bill laughed. "Because these days I feel like the Lone Ranger. Only I wish we could just ride off into the sunset."
Paul shrugged. "Someday you must teach me this language called American."
Molly's voice said, "Learn Chinese, Italian, Swahili and Icelandic all at once. It's easier."
"How long has it been since I told you you're a nag?"
Paul brought them back to the business at hand. "What about the airplane?"
"It veered off to the east not far from here. I couldn't decipher its markings."
"It did not move like it was searching," Marie added. "It seemed to be on a determined course."
"Well, why don't we hang out for about an hour - that means stay here," Bill added for the benefit of Paul's inquiring smile. "Just in case he comes back this way. No sense taking unnecessary chances."
They all agreed this was a good idea. They also agreed that, in its present state, the car couldn't carry them anywhere anyway. Bill and Paul decided to tackle the hot engine to try to find out why it overheated. Molly and Marie took Bill's Bible and sat under a tree to read.
Bill examined the cooling system. "Radiator seems okay, no leaks. Hoses are holding." He reached in and jiggled something. "Water pump's passable. I guess that narrows it down to the thermostat."
"I know what that is," Paul said. "And it goes right in here."
"Good eye. Now, do you know how to get one out without any tools?"
"No, I do not. That is why I suggest we use this." From the pocket of his pants, Paul produced the family's Crescent wrench.
Bill stood speechless. Paul grinned and said, "I had a feeling we might need it. I also brought these." He showed Bill two screwdrivers, one flat, one Phillips, and a pair of pliers.
"If I ever get rich, remind me to put you in my will. Well, don't just stand there looking proud of yourself. Take the housing off."
Paul's eyes sparkled. "You want me to do it?"
Bill shrugged, trying not to smile too broadly. "You've got the tools. Go for it."
"Merci!" Paul practically dove head-first into the engine. Within minutes he held up the suspect thermostat in the jaws of the pliers.
"Is it bad?" Bill asked him.
"I do not know how to tell."
Bill pointed. "As hot as it still is, right here we should have an opening for the water to get through."
"We do not have such an opening. That means it is bad, yes?"
"That's exactly what it means. Toss it over there where it won't burn anybody and let it cool off."
"How are we to replace it?"
"We'll run without it. The car won't mind."
Paul discarded the part. "This is astounding. How many unnecessary parts does a car have?"
Bill laughed. "That depends on if we mean 'necessary for maximum performance' or 'necessary for it to run at all.' And I've never counted. But now we have another problem."
Paul cocked his head to one side. "What it that?"
Bill glanced at the car, then back at his sidekick. "Can't you guess?"
Paul considered. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. "Water. We need water for the engine - I mean, the mill." He smiled in triumph. "I am learning to speak American!"
A pang shot clear through Bill's heart. Tears formed in his eyes. Paul flew into a panic.
"Please do not be offended, Bill! I do not mock you!"
Bill wrapped himself around the boy. "I know. That's what gets me. I never had anybody think so much of me before."
Paul hugged him right back. "I want to be just like you, Bill. Just like you."
Bill wept openly. So did Paul. At length, Bill said, "If we could catch all this water we're making we could fill the radiator."
Paul stiffened. "I understand. A man does not cry, no?"
Bill released him and leaned on the car's grill. "That's not what I said. Everybody cries sometime. Everybody needs to. It's true there's a difference between crying when you have a good reason and being a bawlbaby who cuts loose every time he stubs his toe. But if you've got a good reason, and especially a happy one like we've got, don't ever let anybody tell you you should hold it in because you're a man. That's hogwash."
Paul wiped the tears away and said, "I think I understand. To cry or not to cry is not the measure of a man, yes?"
Bill chuckled. "How come you can say in one sentence what it takes me all day to explain?"
From under their tree, Molly called, "Because he doesn't sound funny when he explains things."
"Why don't you climb that tree, where you'll be in a better position to eavesdrop?"
Molly tried to pretend she didn't hear and concentrated on the page in Marie's hand, but her smile betrayed her.
As Bill helped Paul put the thermostat housing back on the engine, Paul said, "Bill?"
"Yes, Paul."
"Why do you and Molly joke and insult each other all the time?"
"I don't know. Just for fun, I guess. And a way of saying we like each other."
"She likes you so she laughs at you and calls you names?"
"Yeah, sort of. I know she's teasing, and she knows I'm teasing, so it gets to be like a secret code between us that says, 'Hey. I'm thinking about you.' See what I mean?"
"No."
"Oh, well, I gave it my best shot."
Paul turned his head a little. "Do you hear that?"
"Uh-huh. Our hunch was right."
"How far away do you think he is?"
"I never figured out how to tell. But as long as we're under these trees we should be safe. Provided, of course, he doesn't skim the treetops."
Paul assumed what was by now a familiar expression. "Does not what?"
Bill made a plane out of his hand and swooped it in front of him. "Fly low, right across the tops of the trees. If he did that, he might be able to see us, where he couldn't from up higher."
"I understand." Paul listened harder. "I believe he understands this, as well."
"Yeah. It sure sounds like it. He's getting closer."
"He flies very low."
"How can you tell?"
"I can hear it."
"I had to ask. Everybody hug a tree," Bill called. "Stand still and hope for the best."
Paul and the women complied. As they clung to the trees like sinking sailors, the plane's single engine sang its warning. The plane passed over them so low that the draft from its propeller woke the leaves in the tops of the trees. They sat up and sang in harmony with the engine.
"Do you think he saw us?" Molly asked as the song faded away.
"Hard to tell. But he probably saw the car, which amounts to the same thing."
"Then we must go," said Marie.
"But we still need water for the car," Paul pointed out. "We cannot get very far without it."
Bill snapped his fingers. "Maybe we won't have to. Check this out." Like a quarterback, Bill waved his team into a huddle. He dropped to one knee and drew indecipherable lines in the dirt as he talked. "We can't go very far in one shot until we find a stream or something. Right?"
All nodded their assent.
"But we can make short hops, a mile or two at a time."
"Yes, but--"
"Hang on, Paul." Bill shifted to his other knee. "Now, if it was me in that plane, I'd make another pass to see if we were spooked. Wouldn't you?"
"Perhaps," Molly agreed. "But I still don't see your point."
"Okay. If he comes back over here and we're gone from where he saw us before, what's he going to think?"
"That we have gone," Paul answered.
Bill held up an excited index finger. "Ah, but gone where, my dear Watson?"
Paul shrugged. "I do not know. Nor does he."
"Would you expect your prey to go a hop, skip and a jump down the road and stop again?" Bill swept his eyes over the group. Comprehension flickered on Molly's face. Marie remained passive, awaiting further revelation. Paul bounced his fingernail on his teeth.
"Not normally," Paul said slowly. "But, knowing they had a car that gets hot - Mon Dieu! I see it, Bill! It could work!" Paul jumped up and down as he spoke.
"Would you be so kind as to show it to your poor mother?" Marie asked.
Paul took Marie's hands. "Do you not see, Mama? The man in the plane does not know the trouble we have with our car! If we go two or three kilometers and conceal ourselves again, he will think we have gone much farther and will send Leblanc and his gendarmes on a wild duck hunt."
Bill and Molly exchanged smiles. Bill whispered, "Close enough for government work."
Paul continued, "We will make them think we are far beyond where we are. Is this not your idea, Bill?"
"As usual, your condensation sums it up, Paul." Marie looked at Bill, then at Molly. "Do you believe this plan will succeed?"
Molly nodded. "At least it gives us a chance. That's more than we have just sitting here."
"Speaking of which," Bill said while he replaced the radiator cap and shut the hood, "We'd better make tracks while we can. Paul, grab that thermostat. No reason to advertise that we had to take it out."
"I have it, Bill."
"Good. Everybody pile in."
Bill fired the engine and gently brought the car back to the road. Things had cooled enough that he was able to accelerate reasonably quickly, then ease off to a moderate cruising throttle. As he settled himself in to monitor the car's vital signs he said, "Keep your eyes peeled out the back, Paul. Tell me if that plane makes another pass."
"I understand even the American, Bill. I will keep watch."
Molly suppressed a smile. "You're corrupting the boy."
"Can't help it. He said he wants to be like me and I'm corrupt."
"What is 'corrupt'?" Paul asked.
"Uh, that means you speak American. At least, in British that's what it means."
"I do not understand."
"You and me both."
"I do not understand what we both do not understand. I fear you are teasing me. But the plane, it crosses the road. Toward the east, this time."
"Good eye! Can you tell if it's about where we were?"
"So it appears."
"So far, so good. He should be telling Leblanc we took off any second now. Marie?"
"Yes?"
"Do you know of anyplace to get water not too far in this direction?"
"I do not know. I have never been on this road before."
Bill shrugged. "Well, at least we're all in the same boat. You girls keep your eyes open along the road for a stream, a pond, a house, a puddle, anything. It's heating up again. We'll have to stop again soon." In himself, Bill prayed that this would be like the movies, where a source of water appeared just in time. But he knew this wasn't a movie.
His ears and feet told him he had to stop right away. He floorboarded the clutch and shut the key off. The car coasted a long way before Bill turned off to the right and brought it up before some thick brush.
He got out and listened to the creaking metal and the hissing from the radiator cap. "I don't know. She may not take another hop like that. We need fluid of some kind. Quick."
Paul scrambled out of the car. "I have an idea, Bill. It is crazy, but--"
"Any idea's a good one at this point, Pal. We're desperate. Let's hear it."
Paul whispered his idea into Bill's ear. Bill nodded hesitantly and said, "You know, it just might work. It is fluid, water basically, after all."
"This was my thought. It might at least take us to a more suitable water source."
Bill clapped Paul on the shoulder. "Let's do it."
"What about them?" Paul indicated the women, who now stood by the car's passenger side.
"Tell you what," Bill whispered, understanding the boy's embarrassment. "We'll send them into the brush to see if there's a stream on the other side. While they're gone. . ."
"We use my idea," Paul finished with a big smile. "You are clever, Bill."
"You came up with the plan, Paul. Let's say we make a good team."
"I like that."
"Me, too. Let's go send the gals away."
Bill opened the hood and released the pressure cap. No jet of steam leaped out this time, merely a hiss and a squeal. Bill shook his head. "We've got to work fast. You girls go that way and see if this brush borders a stream or something. Paul and I will check this way." He waved his hand in a noncommittal direction.
Molly eyed him. "Are you certain that this is the best way to search?"
Bill mimicked her voice. "Yes, I'm certain that this is the best way to search. Now let's move before the cops come screaming down the road and see us and blow the whole plan."
"Very well. Come, Marie." Marie squinted at Bill, cast an inquiring look at her son, and followed Molly into the tangled undergrowth.
When they returned, they were shocked to hear the engine running. Bill sat at the wheel, lightly nudging the gas pedal while he listened. Molly and Marie stepped up to the car. "I gather you found water."
"Close enough, anyway. She's doing okay on it."
"What did you find? And where?"
Bill shot her a warning glance, then flicked his eyes to one side to indicate Paul. "You don't want to know. But it worked. That's the main thing. Get in and let's get going."
Molly made sure she was out of Paul's line of vision, then silently mouthed the words, "His idea?"
Bill nodded.
"Brilliant!"
Bill nodded again, then jerked his head toward her side of the seat. The two women climbed into the car without another word. In seconds, they were cruising again.
Francois Leblanc's huge thumb depressed the talk button on his microphone. "I understand. You have done well. return to base and await further orders."
The radio snapped. "Understood, Commander. Air One returning to base. Good hunting, Commander."
Leblanc turned to Soubisse. "I told you they would not try to get to Germany. They have turned south on this road. The plane observed their car, hidden in some trees. With the hood up. At his next pass they were gone. This car of theirs will be their undoing."
Soubisse shrugged. "Very good. You were right. I misjudged him."
Leblanc waved it off, while secretly relishing the joy of scoring a point over his associate. "No matter. Now we must close in for the kill. Assemble the men while I report to Captain Marchand."
Soubisse snapped to attention. "Yes, Commander." He wheeled and trotted off toward the other cars.
Leblanc reached in the car and turned the radio to a preset frequency. "Leblanc to headquarters. Captain Marchand, are you there?"
"I read you, Leblanc. Report."
"They have turned south, destination unknown. They are experiencing car trouble. My squad is assembling now to close in on them."
Marchand sighed, then keyed the desk mike. "Very good. Keep me informed." He paused, then said, "Switch to frequency two."
Leblanc knew what was coming. Frequency two was their private line, the one where they could speak freely without others listening. He turned the dial and called, "I am here, Pierre."
Marchand leaned close to the mike and spoke softly. "You sound distressed, my friend. Does your injury bother you?"
"To you alone I admit that the American dealt a cruel blow to it last night. It bleeds periodically. But I will endure."
Marchand shook his head. "Francois, why do you not abandon your chase for now? Let the local constables track these people while your body mends. Then resume."
"The American has already proven that he can outwit locals. No, Pierre. I alone can keep up the chase and apprehend him. There is no other way."
Marchand's trembling increased. "I must speak bluntly, my friend. I fear you are obsessed."
He couldn't see Leblanc's wicked smile as the latter said, "If I am, what of it? I have a job to do, and a personal stake to motivate me. Call it what you like."
Marchand knew he was wasting air time, so he moved on. "We have information on the American's companions."
Leblanc took a small notebook out of his uniform pocket and said, "Who are they?"
"His woman companion is a Molly Sanders, from England. No record, once married to businessman and self-proclaimed sophisticate Frank Sanders. The nature of her relationship to the American Hall is unclear, as is the reason why they left London. The farmer woman is Marie Jarnais, son Paul is 14 years old. Her husband Jaques was arrested about four months ago."
"Charge?"
"He spoke against the Unification. Did not trust the remnants of the former Soviet bloc. He claimed the Unification would be Communism's triumph."
Leblanc's laugh rattled the speaker. "He may have been correct. Their philosophy of party rule and Central committees does seem to have emerged dominant, no? But it matters not to me. I serve the powers that be, and I do not care who they are. I am a policeman, not a politician. what became of him?"
Marchand glanced down at his information sheet. "He was imprisoned indefinitely. The State discreetly let word trickle back to the family that he was dead."
Leblanc's eyebrows rose. "Thank you, Pierre. This information may prove useful. Now, if you will excuse me, the squad is ready to move. Do not concern yourself, Captain. I will catch them. And when I do . . ." Marchand heard the long pause, then the spitting of the radio as Leblanc unkeyed.