Damnation Alley by Roger Zelazny Read Free Book Online Page B

leave his car. I think he was off his rocker. That's why we sent a car of our own after he left, to be sure you'd get the message."
    "What car?" said Greg.
    "It didn't . . . ?"
    Greg shook his head.
    Monk snatched a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket. He offered them around, and his hand shook as he held the flame.
    "I thought maybe our driver gave you the message."
    "Only Brady," said Greg. "Nobody else."
    "How is Brady?"
    "Dead."
    "His shielding was in bad shape when we serviced the car," he said. "The Geig went mad when we tried it inside. We wanted to give him another car, but he pulled this gun. By God, he'd have _his_ car, he said, hot as it was. So we fixed the shielding, but it isn't that easy to decontaminate in a hurry. When he rode out of here he was like sitting in an oven. That's one of the reasons we sent Darver. . . . Let's go on into the office." He gestured toward a heavy green door. "Hey, Red!" he called out. As they moved toward it, a younger man who fit the description left a work bench and approached, wiping his hands on a gasoline-soaked rag.
    "Yeah, Monk?"
    "Go wash up and run across the street. Get these guys some breakfast and bring it back here. We'll be in the office."
    "Okay. Where do I get the money?"
    "Take a five out of the cash register and leave a note."
    "Right," and he moved off toward a yellow-streaked sink set against the far wall.
    They entered the office. Monk closed the green door behind them and waved toward the chairs.
    "Make yourselves comfortable." He drew a venetian blind closed as he spoke, cutting off a view of four faces staring in. Then he leaned against a green and battered filing cabinet and sighed.
    "I want to wish you the best of luck," he said. "Boy! You should have seen that Brady when he pulled in here! Like death warmed over!"
    "All right!" said Greg. "Stop reminding us, huh?"
    "Sorry. I didn't mean… You know . . ."
    "Yeah, sure. Let's talk about something else."
    Tanner chuckled and blew a smoke ring. "Think it'll rain today?" he asked.
    Greg opened his mouth, then closed it and swallowed whatever he might have said.
    Monk raised a slat of the blind and squinted out beneath it.
    "There's a couple cops keeping the people out," he said, "and I see another trying to clear the way for a car. I think maybe it's the President's, but I can't tell for sure."
    "What's he want?" asked Tanner.
    "To welcome you and wish you luck, probably."
    Greg ran his hand through his hair. "How about that, the President," he said.
    "Screw," said Tanner.
    Greg cleaned his fingernails with the edge of a matchbook. "We're celebrities," he said.
    "Who needs it?"
    "It doesn't hurt any."
    "Yeah, it's the President," said Monk, dropping the slat. "I'll go out and meet him. He'll be here in a minute."
    "Rather have breakfast," said Tanner as Monk left the room.
    "Why've you got to be that way?" asked Greg.
    "What way?"
    "Obnoxious. The guy's a big wheel here, and he's coming over to say something nice to us. Why do you want to blast him?"
    "Who said I'm going to blast him?"
    "I can just tell."
    "Well, you're wrong, citizen. I'm going to be the sweetest, nicest, ass-kissingest hero the bastard ever went to talk to, hoping that it would help to get him reelected, of course. Okay?"
    "I don't give a damn."
    Tanner chuckled again.
    The noise level rose as a door opened somewhere in the building. Tanner ground his cigarette out on the concrete floor and lit another.
    "Who'd want to be a President?" he asked, as somewhere a door banged closed.
    Greg crossed the room to a water cooler, filled a paper cone, and drank. After a time they heard footsteps, and the door opened once again.
    The President, who was a thin, balding man, hooknosed, pink-faced, and smiling round pearly dentures,, raised his right hand and said, "I'm Travis. I'm very glad to meet you boys and welcome you to Salt Lake."
    "This is the President," said Monk, smiling and wiping his hands on his coveralls.
    Tanner stood and extended