I thought over the possible methods of transportation: monorail, flivver, copter (which would be grounded tonight.) None of these were particularly appealing. They all involved being around too many people.
Then I had it.
I hurried past the front of the Port building, moving between about fifty WA special troops loitering on the promenade awaiting orders. When I came to the steps down into the taxi docking area, I took them two at a time. I went along the rows of vehicles to the last in the line. It was almost totally blocked from the view of anyone using the lot, and it would afford me more privacy to work. I opened the door on the driver’s side and slid in, closing it behind so that the ceiling light went off.
I inspected the controls and the keyboard to be certain that this was no different than the standard auto-taxi I had used for so many years in New York City. On the bottom of the directory chart, I found the instructions I had been hoping for:
IN THE EVENT THAT THIS VEHICLE SHOULD ENCOUNTER MECHANICAL DIFFICULTY THAT THREATENS IN ANY WAY TO INJURE OR KILL THE OCCUPANTS, THE PATRON OR PATRONS ARE LEGALLY EMPOWERED TO ASSUME CONTROL OF THE CRAFT. CONVERSION FROM AUTO TO MANUAL IS ACCOMPLISHED BY PUNCHING OUT E-M-E-R-G-E-N-C-Y ON THE KEYBOARD. A BUZZER WILL SIGNAL WHEN THE CONVERSION HAS BEEN ACCOMPLISHED, AT WHICH TIME PATRON OR PATRONS MAY OPERATE THIS VEHICLE AS ANY MANUAL STEERING CAR. NOTE: IF ANY PATRON OR PATRONS CONVERTS THIS VEHICLE FROM AUTO TO MANUAL FOR THE PURPOSE OF AVOIDING HONEST FARES OR FOR THE PURPOSE OF STEALING THIS VEHICLE, THEY WILL BE TRIED AND PUNISHED ACCORDING TO SECTION 3, PARAGRAPH 16 OF THE WORLD AUTHORITY TRANSPORTATION AGENT PROTECTION LAWS WHICH PROVIDE FOR NOT LESS THAN ONE YEAR AND NOT MORE THAN FIVE YEARS IN A WORLD AUTHORITY CORRECTIONAL INSTITUTION.
I felt like laughing again. One to five years would mean nothing to Jacob Kennelmen on top of what he was going to receive anyway if he were caught. I wrestled my wallet out of the zippered sidepocket on my insulated trousers, took out a poscred bill and dropped it in the payment slot. The keyboard lighted instantly. Slowly, I typed out E-M-E-R-G-E-N-C-Y. There was a click, a series of grumbling sounds, and the buzzer sounded that the car was now a manually operated vehicle. I shifted it into reverse, backed it out of its stall, and left the lot at a reasonable speed. Once on the highway, I turned toward Anchorage. Keeping the taxi at top speed as much as possible, I reached that city a little over two hours later, at eleven-thirty.
I parked on the outskirts at a self-service recharging station for electric cars. There was an automat attached. It was well lighted, but empty. I went in, purchased a synthe-ham sandwich and a carton of chocolate artificial milk, went back to the taxi that I had parked at the edge of the lot. While I ate, I tried to plan the next step. I wanted them to know I was in Anchorage, wanted them to shift their search down here and take the heat off the park. But how to do it? If I moved into someplace where there were a lot of people, I would surely be recognized sooner or later—recognized and trapped.
I had not come all this way to sacrifice myself. Besides, letting them catch me would be utterly foolish. With the right drugs, they would have me babbling everything inside of half an hour, spouting happily where He was at the moment. There must be some other way. A man in a dark blue sedan pulled up before the building at the charging station, plugged in his car, cleaned his windscreen, and drove away. By the time he left, I knew what I was going to do.
Walking to the far end of the station and around the corner, I found the phones. I stepped into the last so that I was not visible from the front of the station and punched out Harry Leach’s home number.
There was a little musical set of tones that reminded me of the old-fashioned bells triggered when you opened the door at Harnwockers Book Store back in New York. The tones sounded five times, and I was just beginning to think that Harry was going to fink out on me in my hour of need when the screen rolled once and came back up with his homely, balding head looking out at me.