8.

"… And so it's my guess," Jack was saying, "that this little truck is going to flip the world on its ear."

Alicia had been relieved to see Jack. Not glad, just relieved that the man at the reception desk asking to see her without an appointment hadn't been Will. He'd already called twice this morning. Alicia knew she couldn't face him, but maybe she could dredge up the courage to talk to him. At the very least she owed him a return call.

But Jack had come in with that toy truck from the house and pulled it apart on her desk, talking a blue streak. Alicia had had a hard time following him at first. She was still dazed from watching Hector die. And then she'd been a little frightened. Jack was positively wired. For a bad moment she'd thought he might be on speed, or maybe peaking in the manic phase of a bipolar disorder. And when she'd heard what he was talking about, she pretty much settled on the latter.

But then he wasn't simply telling her, he was showing her how the Rover didn't have a battery and would only run when the aerial was attached. He called it broadcast power.

"Broadcast power," she said, catching the chassis as it rolled across her desktop. "But that's science fiction."

"So was rocketing to the moon and a computer on your lap—once. Now they're history. But what's got to blow you away even more is the fact that it's all yours."

Was it hers? she wondered. Really? And how much was it worth? A tingle crept over her skin as she realized that a day might come when every lamp, every microwave, every TV, every car in the world would have one of those little transceivers in its works. Worth? Alicia doubted she or anybody else could count that high.

"Not all," she said, remembering something. "A third of it is yours."

Jack cocked his head and gave her a puzzled look. "Mine? But—" •

"Our deal, remember? We split the proceeds—you've got a thirty-three percent share."

"Jeez," Jack said, dropping into a chair. "I forgot all about that."

"I'm sure you would have remembered eventually." She refused to let herself get excited. "But right now you've got a third of nothing. We've only got half of the equation. The receiver's not worth anything without the transmitter."

Jack nodded. "Like taking a TV set back to the 1920s, I guess. Without somebody broadcasting, it's just an expensive night-light."

"Right. So where is it?"

"Uptown," Jack said. "Or maybe farther north of here."

"Because that's the way it keeps running?"

"Got to be," he said, taking the chassis from her. " 'Whither away, fair rover, and what thy quest?' Remember?"

Jack put it on the floor and let it arc across the carpet to end bumping its front end on the uptown wall.

"I think—no, I'm sure its quest is the transmitter."

"So what are you going to do? Put it down on Fifth Avenue and follow it uptown?"

"No… I've got a better idea." He retrieved the chassis and turned off the motor. "Is there a back way out of here?"

"Yes. Ask Raymond. He'll show you."

"Swell. See you later." He stopped at the door and turned. "Hey, I almost forgot. How's the little guy—the one with the haircut?"

"Hector Lopez?" Alicia said, looking away, not wanting to see his face. "He died this morning."

"Aw," Jack said, more of a sigh than a word. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Alicia said through her constricting throat. "He was a good little guy."

And then, as precipitously as he'd arrived, Jack was gone, leaving the toy Rover's black plastic body on her desk.

Alicia swallowed to loosen her throat, then let Hector fade from her mind as she remembered the key they'd found along with the truck last night—last night? Had it only been last night? She wondered if Jack had learned what lock it fit.

And then the possibility of broadcast power took over. How many billions might something like that be worth? She thought of what she could do with all that money. She could start a foundation, find homes for kids like those at the Center, fund research to find ways to save future Hectors.

Broadcast power… the power to change the world… hers…

Hers because that man… that monster… had left it to her…

Alicia closed her eyes. She didn't want anything that man had touched. Anything. He had to have known that. So why had he left her this? Was he laughing now from his spot in the darkest, coldest, nastiest corner of hell?

She picked up the Rover body and hurled it against the wall.

9.

Jack bought a good compass and started in his own apartment. He marked the truck's starting point at the downtown end of his living room and ran a string to where it ended up against the uptown wall. He checked that and found that the string ran a few degrees west of due north. He unfolded his brand-new map of New York State and drew a line from mid Manhattan up along the Hudson through Albany and Troy, through a little town called Elysium in the Adirondacks, then onto Lake Placid and into Quebec. Theoretically, the line could be heading all the way to the Arctic Circle and beyond. Jack hoped it stayed in New York State.

He didn't feature trekking all the way out to Sag Harbor again, so he took his next reading in the little park on the Flushing side of the Whitestone Bridge. This time the line traveled a more westerly path, crossing the first line in Ulster County.

Could be good news or could be a fluke. The next reading would tell.

The lower left corner of Jack's New York map showed a portion of North Jersey. He took the Lincoln Tunnel into the lovely paved vistas of the Garden State and followed Route 3 to where it crossed the Parkway. Since that particular intersection was on his map, he stopped in a nearby strip mall parking lot and let the chassis take another run.

Jack smiled when he checked the path with his compass: this time it headed east of due north. Good. At least they wouldn't have to go to the north pole to find the transmitter.

The third line met the others in Ulster County, a little west of New Paltz.

If he was right, if the receiver was designed to point the way to its power source, then the transmitter was somewhere in the vicinity of intersection of those three lines.

Looked like he and Alicia would be on their way to the Catskills tomorrow—if Sam Baker and his boys didn't interfere. Jack had told Sean to call Thomas's lawyer and start the paperwork to sell the house. Hopefully that would keep Kemel off balance enough to allow Jack and Alicia to sneak out of town.

Alicia… he'd been so wound up about this broadcast power thing that he'd almost forgotten about the filth in those envelopes. A big part of him was pushing to build a fire and reduce them to ash, but another part said that it might make Alicia's world a brighter place if she could watch those negatives curling and blackening and smoking in the flames.

But giving her the envelopes meant he'd have to be there when she realized what was in them. He didn't want to see her face, didn't want to imagine what she'd be feeling at that moment. Because he could never imagine.

Still undecided, he headed back to New York.