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Behind the Walls of Terra by Farmer, Philip Jose. Part two

To keep her occupied, he tore down some curtains, and set them on fire with a sweep from the ring. She screamed and dashed into the bathroom to get water. A moment later, he was driving the Jaguar off the driveway. Behind him, screams came through the open doorway as she fought the flames.

At a corner a few blocks east from the motel, he flashed his lights twice to alert Anana. A dark figure emerged from between two houses. She approached warily until she recognized him. She threw their packs and the instrument case into the back seat, got in and said, “Where did you get this vehicle?”

“Took it from Cambring.” He chuckled and said, “I left a message with Cambring for Red Orc. Told him that a Black Beller was loose. That ought to divert him. It might even scare him into offering an armistice.”

“Not Red Orc,” she said. “Not unless he’s changed. Which is possible. I did. My brother Luvah did. And you say Jadawin did.”

He told her about his idea for contacting Wolff. “I should have thought of it sooner, but we have been occupied. And, besides, I’ve forgotten a lot about Earth.”

For the moment, they would look for new lodgings. However, he was not so sure that they could feel safe even there. It was remarkable that they had been located. Red Orc must have set into action a very large organization to have found them.

“How could he do that?” she said.

“For all I know, his men called every hotel and motel in the Los Angeles area. That would be such a tremendous job, though, I doubt they could have gone through more than a small percentage of them. Maybe they were making random spot calls. Or maybe they were going through them all, one by one, and were lucky.”

“If that is so, then we won’t be safe when we check in at the next place.”

“I just don’t believe that even the Lord of the Earth would have an organization big enough to check out all the motels and hotels in so short a time,” he said. “But we’ll leave the area, go to the Valley, as they so quaintly call it here.”

When they found a motel in Laurel Canyon, he ran into difficulties.

The clerk wanted his driver’s license and the license number of his car. Kickaha did not want to give him the license number, but, since the clerk showed no signs of checking up on him, Kickaha gave him a number made up in his head. He then showed him Ramos’ driver’s license. The clerk copied down the number and looked once at the photograph. Ramos had a square face with a big beaky nose, black eyes, and a shock of black hair. Despite this, the clerk did not seem to notice.

Kickaha, however, was suspicious. The fellow was too smooth. Perhaps he did not really care whether or not Kickaha was the person he claimed to be, but then, again, he might. Kickaha said nothing, took the keys, and led Anana out of the lobby. Instead of going to their room on the second floor, he stood outside the door, where he could not be seen. A minute later, he heard the clerk talking to somebody. He looked in. The clerk was sitting at the switchboard with his back to the door. Kickaha tiptoed in closer.

“. . . not his,” the clerk was saying. “Yeah, I checked out the license, soon as they left. The car’s parked near here. Listen, you . . .”

He stopped because he had turned his head and had seen Kickaha. He turned it away, slowly, and said, “OK. See you.”

He took off the earphones and stood up and said, smiling, “May I help you?”

“We decided to eat before we went to bed; we haven’t eaten all day,” Kickaha said, also smiling. “Where’s the nearest good restaurant?”

The clerk spoke slowly, as if he were trying to think of one that would suit them. Kickaha said, “We’re not particular. Any place’ll do.”

A moment later, he and Anana drove off. The clerk stood in the front door and watched them. He had seen them put their packs and the case in the car, so he probably did not believe that they were coming back.

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