"No. It would be too painful," Cole said. "You may have the tank trucks. I have another, a six-wheeler. If you will help me load my still on it, I will be all right."

"I'll help," Thor said. "Ron, if you like, I'll go with you. "

Cole looked at him. "I remember you. Yes, I would like that. Thank you."

Sherrine took a deep breath. "I'm going, too," she announced.

"What?" said Bob. "Now, wait. You can't take that chance."

"You are."

Bruce brandished his list. "You've got to go back to Minneapolis to coordinate the Angels' new IDs," he said.

She shook her head. She had been wondering for days whether she was risking her job--whatever security she could count on in poor, doomed Minneapolis--or whether she was leaving it behind. Now she knew. Damn Bob, anyway. "You don't need me. The Legion of Doom can handle this. So I guess it's not so important that I get back to my job tomorrow--"

"What you're saying," Bob said, "is that you don't want to go back to your job."

She took another deep breath. "I guess that is what I said, isn't it?"

Sherrine called her grandmother from a phone booth in the candy store on the corner. She used a few tricks to shunt the call through four other trunks just to humor Thor. After she had talked to Gram, she was glad she had.

She must have looked badly shaken up when she left the phone booth because Harry, who had escorted her there, looked concerned. "What's wrong, Sherry?"

"I--" She shook her head. "Take me back, Harry."

Back in the Brown apartment, she handed Mike a slip of paper with a name and phone number. Then she turned to Bob and fell into his arms. "Oh, Bob. We made the right choice, after all." Tears ran down her cheeks. When had she started crying, for Ghu's sake? She didn't like to cry.

"What do you mean?" Bob asked.

"I mean they know about us!"

"Who?"

Bruce rose from his chair. "Who knows what?"

"The police. Gram said they came to her house asking questions. About me. About a maroon van. I--I--" She paused, took a deep breath. "I made some other calls. Tremont says they've got my house staked out and they're asking about Bob around the University."

Bob stepped away from her. He looked a little gray.

Sherrine touched his arm. "We'd both already decided we weren't going back."

"I know. It's just…"

"What?"

"Now we can't go back. It's different when somebody's following you around burning bridges."

Bruce and Mike exchanged glances. "What about the rest of us? Doc Waxman?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. But why would they have any clues that point to you guys?"

Mike let out his breath and Sherrine knew that she should be relieved for his sake, as well; but she was simply angry that he was happy to be off the hook.

"Oh, dammit. Dammit." She made fists of her hands. "I never had much; but it's gone now. My house. My car. All my clothes, except what I packed for this 'two-day' excursion. Everything."

Bob shook his head and said, yeah, he was sorry for her, too. And that made her cry even more, because, hell, Bob had lost as much or more as she had, and somehow he could smile. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned and stared into Ron Cole's crazy eyes.

"Don't worry, dear," he said. "Don't worry. You can always stay in my Titan. The sister of misfortune is hope."

"Oh, Ron Cole. That's the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me."

"Gather round," Bruce said. He sat in front of Oliver Brown's fireplace and tapped the paper against his hand. "I've got a list."

"Why am I not surprised?" Mike asked.

"List?" Harry asked.

"Things we have to do. First thing: Mike, you're the only one who has any right to be at that research place, the one with the bacteria."

"Well, yes…"

"It's not far out of our way," Bruce said. "We go there, make sure everything's all right, and Belinda Jenks will meet us in her car and get us back to Minneapolis. The rest of you will go on to St. Louis. The St. Louis people will get you aimed west."

"Right. We're off then," Harry said. "We'll be sure everything's all right."

"What if it isn't?" Mike asked. "What can you do?"

"We can warn you," Harry said.

"How? Telephone?"

Jenny sniffed. "We'll get you the word. If we have to make enough noise that everyone in the country knows--" She patted her oversized handbag.

"Yeah, well that makes sense," Mike said. "But--" He took Harry aside. "Harry, take this. It's a thousand."

"I don't need--"

Mike's voice was low but intense. "Harry, you never ask until you need it right now. This time--just take the money, Harry. Think of it as default option money. It's your last gasp. When you run low on funds and Jenny's ready to rob some poor schlub at gunpoint, use the damn money instead."

Harry hadn't taken it. Mike said, "You know her, Harry. Any excuse. "Bring it down, bring it down--"

"Yeah." Harry took the money and had it in his boot with a minimum of motion.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Treasure Hunt,

or

The Hundredth Dream

«logon»

«Greetings, all, from the Oregon Ghost. Gabe and Rafe are on their way. Let's all chip in and do what we can for their going away present. If you can't deliver it in person, leave word and I'll find a way to get it there.»

--Ghost, with both hands, you couldn't find your--

«Alter! How did you get out of your dungeon? I don't have time for you now. There is serious business afoot.»

--That's why I'm here, you pitiful Primary Ego. This is too serious for me to sit back and watch you screw things up. Did you think I would stay down there amusing myself by burning those old copies of The Intergalactic Reporter--?

«What?! How dare you burn my collection of fanzines? What would Carol Kovacs say if she knew?»

--Well, an imp has to keep itself warm somehow. If you would heat the dungeon I wouldn't have had to ignite that stack of Lan's Lanterns last week--

°Shriek°

--Or the FOSFAXs or Mimosas. They're getting dry and crumbly. Make good tinder

«All right, Alter. Make your point, if you have one.»

--Point? Point? Oh, very well. Friends, don't trust The Ghost. His minds aren't what they used to be. Send your contributions to the usual places. DUFF, SKIFFY, TAFF, they're all in this. The final drawing hasn't been scheduled yet; but the big prize is still the Trip of a Lifetime. Remember, two Grand Prize winners have already been chosen, but don't let that stop you from giving them the boost they need. They're feeling a little Down.»

«Thank you, Alter. Now get back to your dungeon, like a good little Ego.»

--Don't count on it, Ghost. I'm the Prime Self now. Remember? The fans voted for me in Galaxy years ago. Me, not you, Ghost. Eh? No! Not the Spell! Not the Spell! Arrgh!--

«logoff»

«Like what?» Anonymous note on electronic bulletin board.

«You name it; they need it. Make it small and make it light. There's a weight limit on their baggage.» Anonymous reply on same bulletin board.

Captain Doom flashed the light briefly at the big wooden sign. PUTNAM'S WORM FARM. WORMS FOR SOIL CULTIVATION; WORMS FOR BAIT; WORMS FOR ALL PURPOSES. He pondered that, wondering what other purposes worms might have. Then he shrugged and touched his throat mike. "Captain, Doom to SMOF-One," he whispered. "I am in position."