***

“We may have hit the jackpot here.”

Drake was surprised at the animation in Blade’s voice. He shifted the motel room phone to his left ear so that he could take notes with his right hand. He no longer bothered to find a phone booth when he called Blade. “How?”

“One of the guys whose names you gave me has his prints on file with the FBI. They match the prints on the letter.”

“I didn’t know you talked to the FBI.”

“We do when we have to. Your Malibu incident lent a little impetus to that. His name is Dennis Sterling, aka Dennis the Menace Woodbury, aka lots of other names. The name you gave us was Sterling, so we checked the prints on the letter against the prints for that name on the FBI file. They matched.”

“I’m glad to see that you’re doing some useful work. Tell me about this guy Sterling.”

“He’s not your usual hood. He’s got a degree from a revered eastern university I hesitate to mention by name because you’ll make derisive comments. He’s served time for extortion and blackmail. He’s got connections in Las Vegas.”

Drake made a couple of notes. “Before, you said that Las Vegas didn’t care about Running California.”

“We’re revising our thinking on that and doing some checking.”

“What about the other two names we gave you?”

“We came up blank on them. It doesn’t mean they don’t have records. They may be using aliases we don’t know about.”

“Aliases? Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Okay, smart ass, here’s one for you. Apparently, you’re the only living person who saw what actually happened in Malibu. Can you think of a scenario that would involve the Vegas mob in that?”

“You’re trying to tie Malibu to my letters? Sounds like a stretch.”

“We’re stretching as far as we can, son. Moscow has made an official denial that they had any part in this. We have no evidence to prove otherwise. There aren’t too many other loose cannons in the world. Germany and Japan have been peaceful for years. We don’t think North Korea has the capability. Everyone here’s going berserk.”

“The marines have invaded Malibu. Destroyers are cruising off the coast.”

“That’s my point. We’re acting like World War Three has started, and we don’t have an enemy.”

“That never stopped the military before.”

“Here’s something to think about. It’s a lot easier for governments to grab power during a crisis. It doesn’t matter whether the crisis is real or invented, as long as people think it’s real.”

“Would you like to repeat that for the record?”

“No. If you quote me, I’ll deny it, and you’ll be shark bait.”

“I’m trembling in my boots. Was Sterling born in the U.S.?”

“Yes, in Minnesota.”

“So his English is probably better than what’s in the letters, even though his education isn’t proof of that. Does he have any connections with the commies?”

“None that we know of.”

“Give me a description of him, in case he’s still around.”

“I’ll do better than that. I’ll give you a description and also have Slick deliver a picture of him to you. Call Slick and tell him where you are.”

***

Drake had borrowed the Giganticorp car and was driving himself into Santa Barbara for his appointment with a chiropractor. That meant Peaches would be free after he delivered the runners to the motel in the bus. All the runners had finished within a few minutes of each other. There had been no spectacular breakaways. They had followed the same route. As far as Melody knew, there had been no changes in position. She and Drake were still in ninth place.

In spite of what she had said to Drake about getting to know Peaches better, she didn’t have any idea of how to go about doing it. She had made sure that she was the last person to get off the bus. She stopped beside Peaches, who was still in the driver’s seat.

“Uh, Peaches, I was wondering whether you could help me with something.”

“What can I do for you?”

At least he hadn’t rebuffed her.

“Look, can I buy you a drink or something?”

“I don’t drink.”

That was a surprise.

“I don’t drink much either. How about a Pepsi or a Coke? Or even a cup of coffee?”

Peaches smiled, the first time Melody had seen that expression on his face. It made him look a lot less formidable. “You don’t have to buy me anything. Meet me in the lobby in ten minutes.”

***

They sat on a small patio in the back of the motel overlooking the sea. While she was running, Melody rarely thought about how beautiful the ocean could be, especially when it was calm, like an endless field planted with a blue crop. The few ripples were not unlike those caused by windblown grain. Not far offshore, the Channel Islands beckoned, promising romance, much as Bali Hai promised romance for Lieutenant Cable in South Pacific.

Melody had made herself a cup of tea from the motel’s supply of hot water and tea bags. It wasn’t English tea made in a pot, but she had learned to accept what passed for tea in the U.S. She didn’t doctor it with large quantities of milk and cream like many of her fellow Brits, so she could actually taste the tea. Peaches had settled for a glass of water, in spite of her attempts to get him something more.

Peaches was silent after they sat down, seemingly as enrapt with the view as she was. He was wearing a short-sleeved white shirt, having taken off his jacket and tie. As far as Melody could tell, he wasn’t carrying a gun. She decided it was up to her to start the conversation. “May I ask what your real name is? Peaches doesn’t seem to fit you, somehow.”

Peaches smiled for the second time. “My name is Robert.”

“So where does Peaches come from?”

“One of Fred’s daughters came to work with him one day. She saw me eating a peach and referred to me later as the peach man. Fred got a kick out of that and started calling me Peaches. It stuck to me like a burr in the woods. That man has a weird sense of humor.”

“But you don’t mind?”

Peaches shrugged. “As long as they pay me, they can call me anything they like.”

Melody didn’t want it to sound as if she were interrogating him. She decided to ask one more question. “When you’re in San Jose, do you work for Fred?”

“No. He’s not over security there. Why do you want to talk to me?”

A little of his gruffness had returned. Melody was correct in stopping the questioning. But how much could she tell him?

“I want to talk to you about Fred. He strikes me as being a very competent person. He’s doing a good job of running the race. But he seems to have a thing about…women. Both Grace and I have had a problem with him.”

Peaches didn’t say anything, but Melody saw a muscle twitch in his jaw, as if he were clenching his teeth. Well, she had gone this far. “I can take care of myself, but I don’t want anything to happen to Grace.”

“Grace is a good girl. I’ll take care of her.”

The statement had finality to it.

“Thank you.”

She couldn’t think of anything to add on that subject. She was aching to ask him one more question. She might not get another chance.

“We know that Fred is using several men to help him with the race. Men that we haven’t been introduced to, for reasons I can’t comprehend. I was wondering if you had any contact with them.”

Peaches stiffened visibly. He appeared to be choosing his words carefully. “What Fred does is his business. I will do what he tells me, as long as it isn’t shady. I am not involved with any people in connection with the race other than those you’ve met.”

That ended that discussion. But Melody didn’t want to end the meeting like this. “I wanted to tell you that I used to do some dancing when I was young. I wasn’t great but I had fun. You looked very graceful today.”

Peaches smiled for the third time. “We had something called Cotillion when I was in school. My mother made me go. I told her I was a football player, not a dancer, but I secretly enjoyed it. Later I went with a girl who liked to dance.”

He gazed toward the islands, so close and yet so far. Melody wondered whether he was yearning for his personal Bali Hai.

CHAPTER 18

Today we’re going from Carpenteria State Beach through the city of Santa Barbara to a point on Hollister Avenue west of Goleta. Don’t underestimate the run as it is close to marathon distance. Remember that the beach heads east-west here. This is an opportunity for each team to use its skills at picking a route because there are many ways to go. The best route may be some distance inland. For starters, we suggest that you don’t try to follow the beach directly west of Carpenteria, because you’ll run into a marshy area. Go inland to Carpenteria Avenue. You young studs may be tempted to go through Isla Vista to ogle the luscious lovelies on the bathing suit optional beach near the University of California at Santa Barbara. If you do, you’ll get bogged down in sand and dead ends, and it may cost you a million dollars.

***

“This is where we separate the men from the boys.”

Drake was feeling better than he had at any time since the race had started. Not only physically but his face was almost back to normal. Practically gone were the black eyes and discolored nose. He had to look closely in the mirror to tell that his nose was permanently enlarged and had a slight hook to it. He told himself that he had never been vain about his appearance, but it was nice that the visual reminders of his injuries were disappearing.

Melody chuckled. “This life seems to agree with you. I’ve never seen you acting so youthful. Perhaps your aging clock is rewinding, and you’re getting younger.”

“That would be nice, to a point. Right now I’ll settle for gaining on Tom and Jerry.”

They were running an inland route carefully picked out by Drake who had acquired a map of Santa Barbara. One thing he had learned in the service of his country was map reading, and he figured that gave them an edge over the other teams.

Melody looked around her. On a summer Saturday the locals and tourists were heading for the beach or shopping. The sidewalks weren’t crowded.

“I don’t see anybody else. We haven’t been this alone since the first few days when everybody ran away from us. Hopefully, that isn’t happening today.”

“We’ll be doing quite a stretch on Hollister Avenue. We should find out how we stand then.”

Grace had eaten dinner with them last night. After dinner, Drake had gone through his routine of getting ready for the next day, including taking a cold bath. That hadn’t given him time to talk to Melody alone. “I take it that you and Peaches are buddy-buddy now.”

“Not even matey-matey, but he did open up to me a little. I got the impression that he’s not a member of the Fred fan club and won’t play his silly games.”

“So he’s not part of the threatening letter team.”

“Not if we can believe him. He also said he’d take care of Grace.”

“I heard you tell her that. Although I think she considers you to be her biggest protection.”

Melody laughed. “Well, I did do a little finger twisting. Speaking of mates, how did your chat with Blade turn out? I take it that he’s the one who put you on to this bloke Sterling.”

Drake had told Grace to be on the lookout for Sterling and had given her his description without telling her where he had obtained the information. She hadn’t asked. He filled Melody in on what Drake had said about Sterling.

“I may be able to get Peaches to help look for him.”

“Be careful doing that. Do you trust him?”

“We have to trust somebody. Did Blade have any other words of wisdom?”

“He says the military thinks we’re in World War Three, but not the president. There’s a difference of opinion. Hopefully, the president can retain control of the military, like he’s supposed to. But some people, in and out of government, are trying to influence public opinion in favor of war.”

“That’s scary.”

***

When they spotted the Giganticorp bus parked on Hollister Avenue marking the end of the day’s run, Drake and Melody still didn’t see any runners in front of them. As they drew closer, they saw Peaches standing beside the bus, presumably holding a stopwatch, but he appeared to be alone.

“Where is everybody?” Melody asked. “Do you think they’re inside the bus?”

Drake was afraid to speculate. Either he and Melody were very late, or just perhaps… As they came up to Peaches, he had a smile on his face. It was the first time Drake had ever seen him smile.

“Congratulations. You’re the first team to finish.”

As Peaches wrote their time down on a clipboard, Melody gave Drake a big hug. Memories of how good her hugs felt flooded back. They waited for the other teams to finish. And waited. It was a good five minutes before the next team came into view. The two runners approaching weren’t Tom and Jerry. Or Phil and Brian, the overall second place team.

It took forty-five minutes before all the other teams straggled in. Drake and Melody stood on either side of Peaches, peering over his shoulder at the clipboard as he wrote down times, comparing them to the teams’ overall times, which were also on the clipboard. He didn’t seem to mind.

When the dust settled, Drake and Melody had not only gained on all the other teams, they had passed Mike and Aki and were now in eighth place. They hugged again.

***

Drake wasn’t a fan of speechmaking by politicians. He remembered being in a stadium full of Eisenhower supporters when he was in college. A member of Eisenhower’s campaign staff had the crowd chanting “I like Ike,” louder and louder, whipping them into a frenzy. Drake, who didn’t participate in the chant, felt like an observer from another planet. The ability of one man to bend the crowd to his wishes scared him. It reminded him of what he had heard about Hitler’s hypnotic power over audiences.

The reason he wanted to hear this speech was because of the events that were taking place around them—and the fact that the speaker was Casey, making the first big campaign speech of his Senate race, right here in Santa Barbara.

The other runners had passed on the event, feeling that their sleep was more important. Fred apparently had already been with Casey all day. Melody invited Peaches who declined to come. Grace produced the keys to the company car and sat in the backseat.

“It’s curious that Mr. Messinger is giving a speech here in Santa Barbara just as the runners are coming through.”

Grace was the only one who called Casey Mr. Messinger. Melody turned her head around from the passenger position in the front seat.

“Everything in politics is curious, but you can bet your knickers it’s all carefully planned.”

“Knickers?”

Drake, an expert at Brit-speak, laughed. “She means panties. Casey will undoubtedly mention Running California in his speech. I just hope he doesn’t try to get us on stage like he did at the Coronado Bridge. We’ll sit in the back and be inconspicuous.”

Judging from the number of cars parked in the lot beside the auditorium, it was a popular event. As they walked up the steps, Drake realized he was getting some looks from people wondering how he deserved to have a beautiful woman on either side of him, each dressed up in a short skirt and sheer silk blouse, as if they had consulted each other. They undoubtedly had. He had even taken some care with his own appearance. At least they didn’t look like runners.

They found seats in the back as the crowd filled much of the auditorium. When the lights dimmed and a man appeared onstage to introduce Casey, it turned out to be none other than Fred. The three exchanged looks as Fred launched into a mercifully short introduction.

When Casey appeared, he received a generous round of applause. Drake and Melody went through the motions of clapping; Grace was more enthusiastic.

Casey was a good, if not great, public speaker. He touched on some of the usual subjects: prosperity, jobs, crime, taxes. Then he mentioned Running California. The runners had just come through Santa Barbara. They were a good advertisement for California and would promote tourism.

Unfortunately, one of the runners had been killed in the Malibu incident. Of course this had been featured in all the media, and when he told a story about Harrison’s parents saying that the race must go on, he received a round of applause. This allowed him to segue into the security of the California coast.

Casey talked about the troops in Malibu and the patrolling naval ships, but he said that more had to be done. Drake was beginning to nod off when Casey said that people living on or near the beach were in danger from any attack. Something in Casey’s tone brought Drake to full alertness. Casey continued to speak.

“The California beaches have always belonged to the people. They always will belong to the people.”

Applause.

“As the law stands now, beaches are public property below the mean high-tide line. That has allowed houses to be built on the beach at Malibu and other places.”

Other places close to Santa Barbara.

“The time has come to return the beaches to the people.”

The crowd cheered. Drake saw an appalled expression on Melody’s face that must have matched his own. There were undoubtedly some beach landowners in the crowd. What must they be thinking?

Casey went on to explain how creating a buffer zone between the water and any buildings would enhance security, and, at the same time, allow the people, as he called them, better access to the beach. His speech was a rousing success.

***

“Wasn’t Mr. Messinger great?”

Grace was bubbling with enthusiasm for Casey. Drake glanced at Melody sitting beside him in the car, hoping that she would offer a response to Grace, as he didn’t want to be the one to stick a pin in her balloon. Melody turned her head toward the backseat.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to take away the property of people living near the beach?”

“If it would make them safer.”

Drake couldn’t remain quiet. “How do we know it would make them or anybody else safer when we don’t know who made the attack? Casey didn’t say how wide the buffer zone should be, but it would undoubtedly include thousands of homes throughout California. Where would the money to compensate the homeowners come from?”

“The state would buy them.”

“With your tax dollars. Even if the state has enough of your money to do that, do you want government arbitrarily gobbling up private property based on unsubstantiated fears? A basic tenet of a free society is the right to own property without the government being able to confiscate it arbitrarily.”

“But these are rich people, and they’re blocking access to the beach.”

Drake was about to respond, but Melody interrupted him.

“So far we haven’t had any trouble getting to the beach. True, we’ve had to run around columns holding up houses a couple of times at high tide. But even if access could be better in places, that doesn’t justify kicking everybody off the beach.”

Drake cut in. “Isn’t it interesting that Casey is making this a class issue, based on income, when he clearly could own all the ocean front homes he wanted?”

Grace spoke softly, almost to herself. “Wouldn’t it be great being married to a senator?”

CHAPTER 19

The route from Hollister Avenue near Goleta heads west on Hollister to El Capitan State Beach where you will meet Route 101. Take Route 101 west. Even though it’s a freeway here, you can run on the left shoulder, but watch out for traffic. Route 101 turns inland at Gaviota State Beach. Be sure to stay on the road as we won’t be going through Vandenberg Air Force Base. Take Route 1 where it heads toward Lompoc. The day’s run ends at the top of the first hill on Route 1. There’s no good alternative to these routes, so we won’t have any independent thinking today. Just remember to have plenty of water and/or Gatorade with you for the final push up the hill on Route 1.

***

“Did you hear about the music festival that’s going on in New York at a place called Woodstock or something like that?”

Tom asked the question of his partner Jerry, as well as of Drake and Melody. They had been running together since Route 101 had turned inland from the beach and started climbing steeply. Now they were on narrow Route 1, running single file and climbing even more steeply.

“I saw pictures on the news this morning,” Melody said. “They estimated that half a million people have showed up. How do they all get fed?”

“I guess if they stay stoned, they don’t notice how hungry they are.”

Jerry was laboring and sweating profusely and not laughing.

“Fred’s directions said hill, not mountain.”

It was also a lot hotter here than along the beach. The double whammy of heat and the steep climb had left the other runners somewhere behind them out of sight. Tom, who was also sweating, took a drink of whatever was in his bottle.

“This is the first real hill we’ve seen. The Boston Marathon doesn’t have hills like this.”

Drake’s chuckle was strangled by his heavy breathing. “Nobody would run a marathon that had this kind of a hill.”

It was interesting to Drake that he and Melody seemed to be handling the climb better than the other runners. They had both been training in the mountains, which had ups and downs, and the thinner air had increased their lung capacity. Drake was bothered some by the heat, but he had brought enough liquid with him to keep from being dehydrated.

Melody’s sleeveless Running California top was plastered to her body with sweat, which might be appealing if the men had the energy to notice, but she kept running, slowly but steadily. She passed Tom, who had been leading, and started pulling away from him. Drake was her partner; he should be staying with her. He made an extra effort and also passed Tom.

***

They were spending the night in the picturesque Danish community of Solvang. Melody took a cold bath and a cold shower. She had a rest. These activities restored her body to something resembling normalcy. She sipped a cold drink as she got dressed and then went out to the lobby of the motel to join Grace in a tour of the quaint shops. Solvang was made for shopping.

Grace was sitting at a small table in the lobby with Peaches. That didn’t surprise Melody since they were both employees of Giganticorp, but they were talking softly with their heads close together. Melody hadn’t seen any previous signs of intimacy between them.

She went over to their table, prepared to make a comment about them plotting the overthrow of the world when Grace motioned for her to sit down.

“Peaches has information for you.”

Melody sat in the third chair and declined Peaches’ offer to get her a drink. He took a sip of what was evidently a glass of water with ice cubes before he spoke again. “That fellow Sterling that Drake found out about?”

She’d told Peaches about Sterling the day before and showed him his mug shot, hoping that he might spot him, without going into detail about why they were looking for him. It was obvious from the photo, however, that he’d been in trouble with the law. Melody nodded, waiting for him to continue.

Grace beat him, whispering conspiratorially. “Peaches found him.”

Melody had also told Grace about Sterling. Her heart gave a leap, and she turned back toward Peaches.

“You did?”

Peaches nodded. “He’s staying at a motel just down the street.”

“How do you know?”

“His car. I’ve seen the same car over and over again since we started the race. I drive along each day’s route, keeping track of where everybody is. This car has been doing the same thing. At first I thought it was just different cars that looked alike. After you talked to me, I wrote down the license plate information the next time I saw it. Today I saw the car on Route 1. It was easy to spot now that we’re out of the populated area. It had the same license.”

“How do you know it’s Sterling?”

“He’s brilliant.” Grace couldn’t contain her enthusiasm. “Just like a real detective.”

Peaches shrugged. “Grace actually found it. When we didn’t see the car in the lot here, we went to the nearby motels and checked all the cars. She spotted it.”

Grace continued the story. “Peaches picked the lock. I didn’t know he could do that sort of thing. I was scared that Sterling might suddenly show up, but he didn’t. Anyway, the car is registered to Dennis Sterling. So what happens now?”

“Now?” Melody hesitated. “First, thank you both very much. You’ve been a big help. Don’t tell anybody else about this. Don’t take any other action. I have to find Drake.”

***

“Here’s the car, right where they said it would be.”

Drake looked where Melody was pointing.

“What can we deduce from the fact that the car hasn’t moved?”

“Either he walked to a restaurant, or he hasn’t eaten dinner.”

Drake looked at his watch. It was 8:30. The sun had set. “Who in his right mind doesn’t eat dinner? Anyway, we know he was here a half hour ago.”

“Thanks to me.”

Melody had called the motel, pretending to be Sterling’s sister, and charmed the desk clerk into giving her his room number. When the clerk rang the room, she handed the phone to Drake. When Sterling answered, Drake said, “Sorry, wrong number,” and hung up.

The motel was a boxy, two-story affair with an outside stairway to the second floor where Sterling had a room. They climbed the stairs and quickly found his room. The window curtain was closed, but a light shone on the curtain from inside. They could hear muffled sounds coming from a television set.

Drake looked around to see if anyone was in sight. The motel parking lot was deserted. He knocked on the door.

In about ten seconds they heard a male voice. “Who is it?”

Sterling was being cautious. They had prepared for this. Melody imitated an American accent when she spoke.

“It’s the maid. I need to check your towels.”

A click warned them that the door was being opened. As it came ajar, Melody moved aside enough so that Drake could shove one of his size twelves through the gap. He smelled the acrid odor of cigarette smoke. Sterling had a cigarette dangling from his lips. He also had a look of surprise on his face and tried to shut the door, but Drake’s foot stopped it. Drake shoved the door all the way open and walked inside, pushing Sterling backward.

The bed was right behind Sterling, so Drake gave him an extra shove and sent him sprawling onto his back on top of the blanket. As he bounced, Sterling’s look changed to anger.

“What the hell is going on here? I’m going to call the police.”

“If you do, the FBI will be right behind them.”

That shut him up. The cigarette had come out of his mouth and was threatening to light the sheet on fire. Melody closed the door and moved to the other side of the bed. Blade’s description of Sterling had been accurate. He was a paunchy, middle-aged man, and Drake thought he looked more like an academic than a crook. His gray hair stuck out at odd angles and needed to be cut. He was dressed in boxer shorts and an undershirt. Drake saw some bones on a small table and smelled chicken from the local KFC.

“Were you planning to seduce the maid?”

Sterling didn’t answer. Melody looked as if she were suppressing a laugh. Drake moved close to the bed.

“You know who we are. You’ve been tracking us since the start of the race. Put out that cigarette.”

“Fred hired me to do that.”

Sterling ignored the cigarette. The sheet under it was changing to a brown color.

“Did Fred hire you to write threatening letters?”

Sterling didn’t answer. Melody had been looking around the room.

“There’s a typewriter on the table.”

Drake saw the gray, modernistic cover of an Olympia portable.

“Open it up.”

Melody lifted the cover revealing the sleek machine underneath. Drake turned back to Sterling, who had assumed a more dignified sitting position on the edge of the bed. He picked up the cigarette and stubbed it out in an ashtray on the bed table.

“Where’s the typewriter paper?”

“It’s in my suitcase.” Sterling indicated the piece of luggage sitting on the floor beside the bed.

“Give a sheet to Melody.”

Sterling slid along the bed and opened the suitcase. He reached his hand inside. Drake’s view was momentarily blocked, and he realized he’d made a mistake. Melody whistled four quick notes and dove across the bed. Drake was closer and got to Sterling first. He grabbed Sterling in a bear hug, pinning his arms to his sides, and threw him onto the bed for the second time.

Melody pulled the gun out of the suitcase.

Sterling rolled over, and, back on his back, stared from one of them to the other. “Fred didn’t tell me you two were professionals.”

Drake laughed sourly. “You didn’t have a need to know—until now.” He turned to Melody. “Type the same sentence in small letters and then in all caps. ‘The quick young fox jumps over the lazy brown dog.’”

Melody retrieved a piece of paper from the suitcase and set out to do that. Drake sat beside Sterling on the bed. Sterling apparently decided he was safer lying on his back. He didn’t try to get up. Drake looked down at him.

“Tell me about the betting operation.”

Sterling didn’t speak for a few seconds. The dialog of a TV movie droned in the background, punctuated by the click of typewriter keys.

Drake said, “Do I have to call my friend Slick? I bet he could get you to talk.”

Sterling appeared to be examining his alternatives. He came to a decision. “It’s run in Las Vegas.”

“Did you contact them or did they contact you?”

“I contacted them. It was after the race started. I was already working for Fred, but just to see that the runners obeyed the rules.”

“So you got the bright idea of a bet on the race. You contacted your buddies in Vegas and wrote the first letter. Why, for God’s sake, did you bet on us? I was barely moving then.”

“It wasn’t quite like that. The first letter came before the bet.”

“Huh?”

“Fred asked me to write it. He said he needed to make sure you two stayed in the race. He figured a threat against her mother would do it.”

He motioned toward Melody, who had finished typing and was listening intently.

“So Fred told you to put in the part about my mum.”

Sterling nodded. “I don’t know your mother from Winston Churchill. Fred wrote the letter. I just copied it.”

Drake said, “What typewriter did you use?”

“I borrowed one from the hotel I was staying at. I didn’t want to use my own.”

“But you used your own for the second letter.”

Sterling looked wily. “You tell me. You’ve been gathering the evidence.”

“Never mind that. When did you initiate the bet?”

“The first letter got me thinking. I called a friend in Vegas and told him the situation. He did some checking and said they could get terrific odds betting on you two. He cut Fred and me into the action.”

“You have to admit that it still looks like a horrible bet.”

“Not at all. All you have to do is stay in the race. The boys from Vegas will take care of the rest.”

“You can’t tell me that the Malibu incident was caused by Las Vegas hoods.”

“That? No, that was an act of God. Or maybe the Soviet Union. But it’s a long race. If necessary, accidents will happen to the other teams.”

Drake and Melody stared at him. They hadn’t expected anything this sinister. Drake took hold of the soft tissue at the top of Sterling’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Ouch. You’re hurting me.”

“Give me a name.”

“What?”

“Give me a name in Vegas.”

“I can’t. They’ll kill me.”

He was clearly terrified.

Drake contemplated. “If you give me a name, I’ll make sure you have at least a twenty-four hour start before anybody in Vegas gets wind of anything. Your name will be kept out of it. If you don’t cooperate, I can get your name plastered all over the front pages, because the race is getting lots of press. Then who’ll be the long shot? If you like, I’ll get you into the witness protection program.”

“I’ll…take my chances on my own. Okay. Give me a sheet of paper.”

He wouldn’t say the name out loud. It was as if he were afraid the room was bugged, although common sense said it wasn’t. He wrote it down. Drake read it. The name looked vaguely familiar. At least it was a real person. Sterling wouldn’t lie by giving a name of a real person who wasn’t involved. That would be too risky.

Drake nodded to Sterling. “All right, you can start packing.”

Sterling jumped off the bed and started fumbling with his pants and shirt. Melody joined Drake by the door, holding the piece of typewriter paper and the gun.

Drake put a hand on her shoulder and whispered, “Your reflexes are as good as ever. I’m glad you remembered our signal.”

“As you said, it was reflex. The notes C, F, G, A, meaning ‘He’s got a gun.’”

“We never contemplated using it when such quick action was required.”

“No. Your reflexes aren’t so bad either.”

Sterling scowled at them from the other side of the room where he was throwing clothes into his suitcase. “Are you going to give me back my gun? I may need it.”

Drake chuckled. “I think we’ll keep it as a souvenir of our night on the town in Solvang.” He turned to Melody and whispered, “We need to get back to our motel. I think this is one late-night phone call Blade will enjoy.”

CHAPTER 20

Today’s run goes from the top of the hill on Route 1 near Gaviota to the top of the next hill, which is past Lompoc. That hill is almost comparable to the hill you climbed yesterday, so be prepared. The whole distance is on Route 1. Since it is a Monday, traffic should be lighter than it was yesterday, but be careful, especially on the narrow road until you get to Lompoc. After Lompoc, the road widens to four lanes with wide shoulders. The combination of the heat and the hill climb yesterday scrambled the rankings. We expect to see more changes after today’s run. Remember to carry plenty of liquids and energy food with you. Watch for the watering places.

***

“If there’s anything worse than a steep uphill for a runner, it’s a steep downhill.”

Drake made this pronouncement as he and Melody made the long descent from their hilltop starting point. They had been wearing two-ply socks all along, but each of them wore an extra pair of socks today, expecting the downhill to be hard on their feet.

Melody looked at the last of the other runners disappearing around a curve in front of them. “Well, we’re bringing up the rear this morning. It’s just like old times.”

“Not quite. We’ve moved into seventh place overall. We’ve finished first two days in a row. We must be doing something right. Six more days like this and we’ll be in first place.”

Melody laughed. “The Tom and Jerry and Phil and Brian teams are so far ahead of us that it’s going to take more than a few good days to catch them, I’m afraid. However, I’m glad to see you so optimistic. I suspect we won’t be finishing last today. Too much youthful exuberance can hurt the other lads. If their feet don’t get them on the downhill, their knees will get such a pounding that bad things will happen.”

“Don’t forget the climb at the end of the run. We’ve proven to be the best climbing team. I don’t know whether to thank Fred for putting the steep climbs at the end of the runs or not.”

“There isn’t any good time to do killer climbs like those. Although I’m sure Fred would help us if he knew how. He’s got a stake in the outcome.”

“Had a stake. Blade assured me that the noose was tightening on the Las Vegas bunch. They’ve been under surveillance for some time. The Sterling incident just means that things will move faster.”

“Fast enough so that none of the runners get hurt, I hope. Do you think we should talk to Casey and have him cancel the race?”

Drake took a fast swig of Gatorade.

“Blade will let me know if there’s still a risk. I think we should talk to Casey and fill him in, but in person, not on the phone. He’s traveling around the state, campaigning. We’re bound to run into him. When he finds out what happened, he’ll probably can Fred.”

“Good riddance.”

“I need to have a little chat with Fred. I’m waiting until tonight because I promised Sterling he’d have a head start. Although, why I’m keeping my word I don’t know. I also don’t know whether Fred has any contacts in Vegas, himself, or whether it was all done through Sterling. He may be wondering where Sterling is right this minute.”

“I’m wondering where Sterling is right this minute. Do you think he’s on a plane to Brazil?”

“The girl from Ipanema must be looking pretty good right now.”

“Did Blade tell you whether there’s any new intelligence on the Malibu incident?”

“Nothing new, unfortunately. Casey is still agitating for doing something. He made another speech in front of a business group somewhere. Mentioned the land grab idea. At least he hasn’t suggested attacking the USSR yet.”

***

The first team they caught was that of Glen and Winthrop. Drake and Melody had an easy time catching them because the two were walking. Winthrop was walking very stiff-legged. As they approached them, Drake slowed down. “What’s the matter?”

Winthrop grimaced. “My knees have locked up.”

Melody nodded. “You took the downhill too fast. You’ll have to walk it off.”

“It’ll take us all day to finish.”

“Do you have anything better to do?”

There was nothing Drake and Melody could do for them, so they sped up. Drake was making mental calculations.

“Those two are right in front of us in the standings. I suspect that by the end of the day we’ll have moved up another position.”

“I’m going to eat some gorp—what Fred calls energy food. We’re going to need all the energy we can find for the uphill.”

***

The heat and the uphill climb were taking their toll again. Although Drake and Melody weren’t running fast by any marathon standard, they had passed all the teams except Tom and Jerry and Phil and Brian during the ascent. They were gaining on those two teams, which were in sight. They figured to at least catch them by the end of the day’s run. They shouldn’t lose any time to them overall.

“This may turn out to be a three-team race,” Drake said.

Melody nodded. “Don’t count us out. Maybe we should have bet on ourselves.”

***

Fred’s only sign of nervousness was that he was smoking a cigarette. Drake knew that he smoked, but he usually did it in private because none of the runners smoked. Of course. And yet, Drake had once met a man in England who said he was a mountain runner, meaning that he ran up mountains such as Scotland’s Ben Nevis, the highest peak in Great Britain at 4,400 feet. Drake was impressed, and then dumbfounded when he found out that the man smoked.

They were in Fred’s room at the motel in Lompoc. Drake mentioned that he had talked to Sterling—he kept Melody out of it—and that Sterling had admitted his part in the betting. Fred took a drag on his cigarette.

“I hired Sterling to make sure that the runners followed the rules—and also to check up on them during the runs to see if anybody was in trouble. I didn’t expect him to bet on the outcome.”

Drake produced copies of the two letters from a folder.

“Sterling admitted he wrote the first letter, but he says it was at your insistence. We’ve proved that the second letter was written on his portable typewriter. He said you got it delivered it to the motel where we were staying.”

Fred reached out his hand and took the two letters. He studied them for a long time.

“I love the broken English. I suppose he wanted you to believe that the writer was Russian or something. How did you say you found Sterling?”

“His fingerprints were on the first letter. They were in the FBI database. He’s a known felon, and he’s used the U.S. mail for extortion, among other sins.”

“I wouldn’t have hired him if I’d known that. So you tracked him to a motel in Solvang. Clever of you.”

Drake didn’t mention Peaches or Grace. Let Fred think he’d done it all himself. He waited for Fred to say something more. Fred reread the letters, as if trying to memorize them.

“You had Sterling cornered. Of course he’s going to try to spread the blame. I can assure you that I and my staff didn’t have anything to do with these letters.”

Drake could prove otherwise, but he wasn’t going to play his trump cards at the moment. “Anyway, Sterling’s gone. Actually, fleeing for his life would be more apt. You never know what those Vegas folks are going to do.”

Was that a shudder from Fred or just a noisy exhale of cigarette smoke? Whatever it was, Fred quickly gained control of himself.

“Drake, I want to thank you very much for bringing this to my attention. I guess I don’t have to take any action on Sterling because he’s gone. We don’t really need him anymore. The rules have changed, and it’s going to be easy to keep track of the runners on Route One, which we will be following for many miles. I apologize for the problems this has caused you. I trust that you won’t be harassed again during the rest of the race.”

“There’s one thing more you should know. I asked Sterling why they bet on Melody and me since we were such long shots. He said all we had to do to win was to finish. The mob would take care of the rest. As I said before, they can get pretty nasty. Our good guys should have them neutralized soon, but I just wanted you to know what could have happened.”

Fred’s hand shook as he put the cigarette to his lips.

CHAPTER 21

After two very tough days of running, today will be a little easier. The run goes from the top of the hill past Lompoc to the top of the first (much shorter) hill after you cross the Santa Maria River, which is close to the border between Santa Barbara County and San Luis Obispo County. Be very careful on the steep downhill at the beginning of the run. It is steeper than the downhill during yesterday’s run. Don’t go so fast that you injure your knees. Again, since we will be inland all day, the weather will be warm. We will provide water along the way, but carry plenty of liquids.

***

“It looks like everybody’s learned their lesson.”

Drake was referring to the fact that all nine teams were taking the downhill in one loose pack. Nobody was charging ahead. Several people had suffered knee problems from yesterday’s run. Winthrop’s were the worst; he and Glen trailed the other runners at the moment. Drake and Melody had passed them, overall, and moved into sixth place. They had also gained on everybody else except the two leading teams.

Melody changed the subject. “We’ve gotten rid of Sterling and, hopefully, the threat from Las Vegas. Fred hasn’t admitted anything, but from what you’ve said, you scared him. He must think you’re some kind of Superman to have dug up all that information while you were running.”

“I don’t think that Fred will be playing any more games with the boys from Vegas. They’re out of his league as far as evil is concerned.”

“So the question is whether we should be talking to Casey about all this.”

“I’ve been giving that some thought. What would be our objective? To get rid of Fred? At least he’s not bothering you and Grace. We would have a tough time proving anything without Sterling’s and Grace’s involvement. If we botched it, Grace could be without a job. If Fred is on the straight and narrow, maybe we shouldn’t rock the boat.”

“Maybe we could communicate better if you didn’t use all those American clichés.”

“Wasn’t it your own Shaw who said we’re separated by a common language? You can be my fair lady, and I’ll teach you proper English.”

“It’ll be a bloody day in ‘ell before you do that.”

***

Drake wasn’t expecting a knock on the door. He had gone through his evening ritual of bathing and stretching. He was tired after three hard days of running. He was happy with his performance, but he also had to get his rest to keep it up. He was dressed only in his briefs and was about to retire to his bed with one of Ian Fleming’s James Bond novels. Spying through rose-colored glasses where the good guys were always good and the bad guys were always bad. He didn’t want to get dressed if he didn’t have to.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Grace.”

What the devil did she want?

“Just a minute.”

He grabbed the first item of clothing he saw, a pair of running shorts, and pulled them on. Two weeks ago he wouldn’t have been able to do that without feeling excruciating pain. He went to the door and opened it. Grace stood there looking beautiful in her standard costume of shorts and a Running California sleeveless shirt.

As he looked at her she was looking at him—at his bare chest. For a moment he felt what he supposed women felt when men stared at their breasts. The tableau couldn’t have gone on for more than a couple of seconds, but it seemed longer. Then Drake remembered his manners and opened the door enough for Grace to come in.

She seemed to emerge from a brief trance when she entered the room. She didn’t speak, and Drake felt it was his duty to break an awkward silence. “Where’s Melody?”

“Oh, she went out for a drink with Tom and Jerry.”

“And you didn’t go because you don’t cotton to runners.”

“Something like that. Although they invited me. Can we sit down?”

The only chair had Drake’s suitcase on it. He took a step toward it when she spoke.

“That’s okay. We can sit on the bed.”

It wasn’t okay. She sat down beside him on the bed, so close that their bare arms and legs touched, generating something akin to static electricity. Drake was distinctly uncomfortable. He also felt something else he hadn’t felt much of since the race had started. He tried to sound jovial. “So what can I do for you?”

“Nothing. Just sit with me and keep me company.”

She glanced at his chest again. “Your bruise is all gone.”

She reached out her far hand and touched him just below the breast bone. His muscles retracted a little in a reflex from being touched in a sensitive place. She hesitated. He couldn’t make her think he didn’t like her. “Sorry. Reflex. Like when the doctor hits you below the kneecap.”

She gained courage and touched him again. Her fingers moved around his chest. Softly. Sensuously. “You don’t have much chest hair.”

“I shave.”

A feeble attempt at a joke. What should he do? He didn’t want her to stop. He didn’t want her to continue. He did nothing.

She broke the silence. “I have the advantage over you.”

Before Drake could guess what she meant, she reached down and pulled her shirt over her head in one fluid motion. As she tossed it on the chair, Drake was struck with the inane thought that here was proof she didn’t wear a bra.

She smiled. “There. We’re even.”

She went back to playing with his chest. He sat frozen.

She spoke again. “Do I have to do everything? You can do to me what I’m doing to you. It would be nice to have somebody I like touching me for a change. Or you can just look. Your choice.”

He did some of each. Her skin was silky. Her nipples reacted to his touch. He tried to come to his senses. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

It sounded like one of the clichés Melody accused him of spouting. Grace apparently thought so too. “Yes, we should. Why not? Because of Melody? She’s out with somebody else. You’re not sleeping with her. Why shouldn’t we enjoy each other? I know you like me.”

To prove her point, she slid her hand down his front, finding out for herself. He was scared for the first time since he had been young. “I don’t know if I can perform after all this running.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll do what we can. Maybe I can help.”

She could. Drake couldn’t believe how strong he suddenly felt.

CHAPTER 22

Drake was startled into wakefulness by the loud knocking on his door. His first thought, mixed up with his recurring erotic dream, was that Grace had returned. What time was it? It was dark outside. Drake clicked on the light beside the bed and looked at his watch. Almost 5:30. Morning.

He still couldn’t shake the idea that it must be Grace. Was she upset about last night? He was naked; he needed to put something on. He grabbed his briefs from the floor and pulled them up. They would have to do. He opened the door, fully expecting to see Grace. Instead he saw Melody.

From the look on her face she must be steaming mad at him. How did she find out? She came into the room and closed the door behind her. She was shaking and breathing hard.

“Grace is dead.”

Drake couldn’t grasp what she said. “What?”

“Grace is dead.”

Drake’s legs wouldn’t support him. He sat down hard on the bed. Grace was dead and he had caused it, although he wasn’t sure how. He didn’t want to know. He wanted to rewind the clock. But he had to know. “What…what happened?”

“Drake, she was murdered.”

“When?”

“A few minutes ago.”

Melody sat down on the bed beside him in the same spot Grace had occupied last night. She was still breathing hard, which was unlike her. She never seemed to breathe hard, even while running. Drake finally understood what was happening. Grace was dead but not because of him. Melody was upset about Grace, not with him. Grace had been murdered. Grace with the silky skin. But how? Why?

“What happened?”

“Her alarm went off at quarter to five. It woke me. As you know, it happened before, so I was suspicious. She started getting dressed. I asked her where she was going. She said she was meeting somebody in the parking lot, but she wouldn’t tell me who. She said it was okay; it wasn’t anything bad, and she’d be back in a little while. I couldn’t go back to sleep.

“She didn’t come back. Finally, at five fifteen I couldn’t stand it any longer. I got up, threw on some clothes, and went out the side door. At first I couldn’t see much. The motel has several outside lights, and my eyes quickly adjusted to the dark. I walked around the parking lot. Nobody was there.

“Then I saw a shadow between two cars back in a corner away from the building. It was more than a shadow. It was Grace. She was on her back. I could see her face, lit by a spotlight like some sort of holy vision. I saw the hole in her forehead. I’m sure she was shot. I checked her neck for a pulse. There wasn’t any. I ran around to the front of the motel and went in the main entrance. I yelled at the desk clerk to call the police. Then I came here.”

An approaching siren told Drake that the police were on their way. Melody looked at him as if she were seeing him for the first time. “We have to get out there and show them where Grace is. Get some clothes on.”

***

“I wonder how many murder cases the sheriff’s department gets here.” Drake voiced his thought to Melody.

They were back in his room following several hours of confusion and trauma while the San Luis Obispo County sheriff’s department carried out their initial investigation. It had taken some time for a detective and other specialized personnel to arrive on the scene following the arrival of the sheriff’s officer. They were in a rural part of the county, some distance from the populated area surrounding the city of San Luis Obispo. The staff appeared to be doing a competent job. The initial finding was that Grace had been shot at point-blank range with a bullet from a small caliber gun.

Fred, Peaches, and the runners had been notified. They all reacted with shock and disbelief. Fred immediately cancelled the day’s run and booked them for another night at the motel. The other guests were more or less inconvenienced, depending on how close their cars were parked to the murder scene. Some were temporarily blocked by police vehicles. The cars on either side of Grace’s body were checked for blood and other evidence.

Melody said, “We need to catch our breath for a minute. I told the detective all I know, which, unfortunately, isn’t much.”

“I told him something that I also need to tell you.”

Drake hesitated then blurted it out. “Grace and I were together last night.”

To his surprise, Melody didn’t show much of a reaction. “I suspected it. She refused to go out with me. She was gone when I returned. She came back a few minutes after me looking…well, looking like a cat who’s been in the catnip. She’s had her eye on you since day one.”

“I figured the autopsy would show it, so I didn’t want there to be any question. I also gave the detective the gun we got from Sterling. It hasn’t been fired, so there shouldn’t be a problem. I didn’t want it to be found in a search.”

“One reason I immediately ran to your room was because I had an irrational fear that you might have done it. But when I saw you, I knew better.”

“I had no reason—”

“I know; I said it was irrational. You don’t kill the cow that gives you cream.”

“It was the first time…”

“And only, unfortunately.”

They sat in silence for a minute. Drake tried to organize his thoughts. “The detective talked about a possible mugging. I don’t think—”

“I told him several times that she was meeting somebody. She had no money on her. Her clothes weren’t messed up. It wasn’t a rape attempt or anything like that.”

“The last time she went out early she met Sterling.”

“Sterling’s consorting with the girl from Ipanema.”

“Which leaves him out of the picture. What about Fred?”

“What about Fred?”

“She had information that could get him fired.”

Melody thought about that. “Possible motive. I don’t think we want the local authorities looking into that.”

“No. It’s out of their jurisdiction. Maybe now’s the time for us to talk to Casey.” Drake had a pang of guilt. “Maybe we should have talked to him before.”

“If Fred did it, we couldn’t have foreseen it. Casey’s on his way. He’ll be here this afternoon. Fred told me that.”

“Meanwhile, I’m going to call Blade and fill him in. I don’t think the Las Vegas mob had anything to do with Grace’s death, but since he’s involved in the betting and also the Malibu incident, I want to keep him informed.”

***

Casey was eating dinner with Drake and Melody in a restaurant a few miles from the motel so the other runners weren’t apt to show up. He had suggested dinner when the two had requested an audience alone with him.

He talked to all the runners, giving his usual speech about how sorry he was, sounding sincere. It turned into a sort of memorial service; he said some nice things about Grace, and others did too. Melody spoke, but Drake couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

Casey mentioned that he had talked to her parents who were, of course, shocked, but apparently they had been fearful ever since their daughter had decamped for the wickedness of California. They lived in New England and wouldn’t get her body for some time because of the pending autopsy.

Casey had talked to the sheriff who would not try to keep any of them in town. The run would continue tomorrow. As he listened to Casey talk, Drake had to admire the fact that he took care of everything. Maybe he would make a good senator.

Casey read the wine list and selected the most expensive bottle. Melody agreed to drink some, a rarity for her. He turned to Drake. “Will you join Melody and me in enjoying this California wine, or would you rather have beer?”

“I’m sure the wine is exquisite, but I think I’ll stick to beer.”

“A man of conviction. This race has been marred by tragedy. That makes me very sad. I’m hoping that the rest of it will come off without a hitch. I was in L.A. at a convention when I heard about Grace. Actually, I was at an early breakfast meeting and didn’t get the word until sometime after it happened. My first thought was, ‘Oh no, not again.’ As I was driving up here, I tried to think whether better planning could have prevented either Grace or Harrison from dying, but the circumstances were so unforeseen.”

“Grace is partly who we need to talk to you about.”

Drake launched into his story, starting from the time when he had received the first letter. He had copies of the letters with him, which he showed to Casey. Casey paid close attention and asked an occasional question. Drake continued speaking off and on when not interrupted by the waitress, through the salad course and into the main course. He told about having a “friend in the service” who had helped with fingerprints and identified Sterling.

Melody talked about the threat to her mother and questioned whether Sterling knew anything about her mother. Casey agreed with that thinking.

Drake told about finding Sterling without mentioning the part played by Peaches. He said that Grace had admitted that she delivered the letters to the motels, at Fred’s request. He didn’t mention that Grace had accused Fred of sexual harassment. When he stopped talking, Casey took a sip of wine.

“I wish you had told me all this before. Of course, if wishes were horses… If I may try to net this out—Fred was apparently involved in a scheme to bet on the race. He may have a motive to kill Grace. Both of the people who can implicate him—Sterling and Grace—are gone. Your friends are taking care of the Las Vegas contingent, which eliminates the threat to my runners.”

Casey took another sip of wine. “I will certainly speak to Fred, but not tonight because it’s been a long day and I’m dead tired. I’m staying at the motel. I’ll go back to L.A. tomorrow. It’s going to be difficult to prove anything against Fred. I don’t think Fred’s the type to kill anyone, but you never know. Tell me immediately if you come up with any more evidence.”

There was nothing more to be said on that subject. Drake asked Casey whether he had heard anything new about the Malibu incident.

“I have a feeling that something is going to turn up soon. Something that will make us realize that we can’t just sit on our hands, fat, dumb, and happy, and let America be overthrown.”

Drake and Melody asked him a few questions about what he meant, but he didn’t come up with anything more except vague generalities.

***

“Casey was certainly correct about being tired. He almost drove off the road. If you hadn’t yelled…”

Melody’s voice trailed off. Drake was still shaken up.

“Avis wouldn’t have been happy about having a totaled Lincoln Continental. To say nothing about our personal unhappiness. I’m glad for his sake that he’s staying at the motel tonight. Also, I thought that his response to us telling him about Fred was rather tepid. I suspect he’s not going to fire him.”

“Let’s see what Peaches has dug up.”

They had left Casey making arrangements at the front desk. Melody knocked on Peaches’ door. When it opened, Peaches gave a welcoming look to Melody and a neutral look to Drake. Maybe he shouldn’t have come to Peaches’ room, but Melody had insisted. They went inside but didn’t sit down.

Peaches looked at Melody when he spoke. “I didn’t find anything. I went through Fred’s room very carefully. No gun, nothing incriminating.”

Melody had asked Peaches to search Fred’s room while Fred was out to dinner. She thanked him.

“I also searched the car and the bus. After Fred returned with the van I searched that. Nothing.”

Fred had taken most of the runners to dinner in the van. Drake wasn’t surprised. “He’s too smart to leave a gun where it could easily be found. The sheriff’s officers checked the bushes and the trash containers and didn’t come up with anything. Wherever the gun is, it’s well hidden.”

Melody asked, “Did you get into any trouble with the detective for having a gun?”

Peaches shook his head. “It’s licensed and everything. It hasn’t been fired. I’m not a suspect. I wish I could help. Grace was a good girl. She didn’t deserve to be killed. I said I’d protect her, and I didn’t.”

“It’s not your fault.” Drake had also been having guilt feelings. “There was nothing you could do. We don’t know that it was Fred.”

“We don’t know that it wasn’t.”

There was obviously no love lost between Peaches and Fred.

CHAPTER 23

Today’s run goes from the top of the first hill on Route 1 north of the Santa Maria River to Port San Luis, west of Avila Beach. You may take any route you like, but we recommend that you stay on roads the whole distance, as the beach is impassable in some areas and loaded with speeding dune buggies in the vicinity of Pismo Beach. Although you’ll start on Route 1, you may choose to take local roads through parts of Oceano, Grover City, Pismo Beach, and Shell Beach.

***

“Casey and Fred didn’t give us much time to mourn for Grace.”

Drake was momentarily taken aback by Melody’s statement, because she was less sentimental than most women, which was one of the things he liked about her. He knew she was deeply frustrated by the fact that they were leaving the scene of the crime without having any evidence as to what happened. Both of them felt the kind of guilt that comes from thinking they should have been able to save Grace, without knowing exactly how they could have done it. So Melody’s emotions were understandable. Drake, himself, harbored a pent-up fury, which threatened to erupt.

“The damned race must go on, in spite of a rising body count. Nothing is as important as the publicity for California, or maybe it’s the publicity for Giganticorp, or just maybe it’s publicity for Casey’s Senate run, although I don’t see how negative publicity like this can help him.”

The newspapers had played up the story as big news, even though they had little in the way of facts to write about. But when did reporters ever let a paucity of facts get in their way? Several reporters had asked questions of Melody, since she had been rooming with Grace. Melody refused to speculate about what had happened, leaving them to make up their own theories or repeat what the sheriff’s office said about a possible mugging.

Drake, the oldest runner, was asked a few generic questions, the kind answerable with a bland statement such as, “She was a wonderful young woman. I don’t know why anybody would want to hurt her.”

He was glad the men and women of the press didn’t have enough insight to ask him penetrating questions. The liaison between Grace and him hadn’t been leaked to them. Thank goodness. They had talked to the other male runners, trying to uncover a hint of a romance gone bad, but that attempt had failed.

Drake and Melody were taking their frustrations out on the road, running hard on the relatively level terrain, pulling away from all the runners except the ubiquitous Tom/Jerry and Phil/Brian teams, which they hadn’t gained on except for the two days in which they finished first.

Melody voiced a thought that had been bouncing around in Drake’s head. “Why don’t we quit the race? This isn’t fun anymore.”

“Well, for one thing, we’re being paid to run. A thousand dollars a day isn’t chicken feed.”

“Since when did you ever let money dictate what you did?”

“Since I’ve grown old enough to worry about my future. A few more days and I’ll have enough money to buy half my own cabin in Idyllwild. Fifty percent makes a healthy down payment.”

“I get the feeling you’re half serious. All right, we’ll stay in the race, at least for the moment, with the understanding that we’ll try to dig up evidence on what happened to Grace. I think the murderer is amongst us and that his name is F-R-E-D.”

“I’ll have another talk with F-R-E-D.”

“This time I’m going to join you. I want to look him in his piggy eyes when he goes into his music hall routine designed to obscure the truth.”

***

“I have a message for you, Mr. Drake.”

If there were any words in the English language that could get Drake’s heart racing faster than those just uttered by the desk clerk at the Avila Beach motel, he didn’t know what they were. The man picked up a folded piece of paper and handed it to Drake. He handed an identical sheet to Melody.

“Here’s one for you, Miss Jefferson.”

Drake and Melody cast alarmed glances at each other before they focused on the pages. Drake saw his name written in green fountain pen and knew that the writer was Fred. He unfolded the paper and read the beautifully written message.

“I’d like to see you and Melody in my room as soon as you get here.”

It was signed “Fred.” Drake’s level of concern went down a few notches. Melody held her message up, side-by-side with Drake’s. They were identical, except that hers stated Fred would like to see her and Drake. Melody looked from one to the other.

“It must be important if he wants to see us when we’re hot, sweaty, tired, and bedraggled.”

Drake quashed the impulse to say that at least Fred wouldn’t be tempted to harass her. “Maybe he’s trying to catch us off guard.”

“But we’re not off guard, are we? Let’s go.”

They obtained Fred’s room number from the desk clerk and marched down the corridor to his room. He opened the door within a few seconds of their knock. The harsh odor of cigarette smoke issued forth from the room.

“Come in, come in. Thanks for coming so promptly.”

Melody went into the room first and wrinkled her nose. “Your note implied that it was important.”

“Yes. I’d like you to meet my new assistant for Running California, Charles Ortiz. Charles flew down from San Jose this afternoon. Charles, these are Melody Jefferson and Oliver Drake, but call him Drake.”

They shook hands. Charles was a good looking young man, tall and thin. He had a high-wattage smile. But Drake was upset. This was what was so important that they had to do it unshowered? Meet Fred’s new assistant? An assistant brought in when Grace’s body was barely cold? He was tempted to say something sarcastic about the situation when Fred spoke again.

“Charles will be helping me with the race, as I said, replacing Grace.” His voice actually broke a little when he mentioned Grace’s name. Nice touch.

“Charles, go ahead and get yourself settled. We’ll eat dinner together, and I’ll bring you up to speed. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Charles beamed his smile on Melody and Drake, said, “It was nice to meet you both,” and then left the room.”

“Have a seat.” Fred waved his arm to include a chair and the bed. “I’m sorry I only have one chair. Can I get you something to drink?”

Melody sat on the chair and sneezed, her nose irritated by the smoke. Drake sat on the edge of the bed, keeping his body straight. He didn’t want to get too comfortable. In response to Fred’s query about a drink, he pulled a container of Gatorade out of his pouch and sipped what remained of it. He didn’t intend to give in an inch to Fred.

The seating arrangement didn’t leave Fred much choice if he wanted to face them both. He leaned against a small dresser, folded his arms, and tried not to look awkward.

“I’m sorry to say that there’s nothing new about Grace. I’m in touch with the sheriff’s department. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.”

Drake decided not to comment because that might defuse the tension. He glanced at Melody. She was keeping a stone face, just as he was. Neither one of them was giving Fred any aid or comfort. They waited for him to continue.

Fred usually gave the impression of being able to handle any situation, but at the moment he looked distinctly uncomfortable. He wiped his face with the large handkerchief he carried, even though it wasn’t that hot. His face was red. When he spoke again, he sounded as bad as he looked.

“Look, I know what you two are thinking. You think that I killed Grace. As God is my witness, I swear to you that I didn’t do it. I may not always have behaved as well as I should have toward her, but I would never have killed her. I’m not that kind of person. I have my faults, but they don’t include murder.”

He stopped speaking, obviously wanting to say more but apparently worried that anything he said might make matters worse.

Drake was tempted to remain silent, but Melody spoke in a calm, unhurried voice, reciting facts. “Grace’s alarm went off at quarter to five yesterday morning. The last time that happened she went to your room and you told her to go to the parking lot and pick up a letter for Drake. How do we know that’s not what she did yesterday?”

“Because…” Fred stopped talking, went into deep thinking mode, and then tried again. “First of all, you have no proof that I had anything to do with those letters. Grace probably told you that story to get herself off the hook. I suspect she wasn’t above feathering her own nest, if you know what I mean. You didn’t get another letter, did you?”

Drake shook his head. “Grace wasn’t in any position to be delivering letters.”

Fred didn’t want to be accused of murder, but he also didn’t want to get fired for participating in a betting ring. Drake wondered whether Casey had talked to him about that. He still had his job. Trouble seemed to bounce off him. But then, he did have a resemblance to a ball.

Drake decided to try a different tack. “What’s your theory as to what happened to Grace?”

Fred pondered that. “She obviously expected to meet somebody in the parking lot. That means somebody contacted her the day before, either by phone or in person. It would have had to be somebody she knew quite well. Knew and trusted. If it wasn’t me and it wasn’t one of you, it could have been one of the other runners. The roommates vouched for each other. Everybody was asleep. Peaches was the other person she knew at the motel. His gun hadn’t been fired. Of course, he might have had another one.”

Melody stared at him. “Are you accusing Peaches?”

“I didn’t say that. You asked me what happened. I was just trying to examine the evidence.”

Drake was about ninety-nine percent certain that Peaches hadn’t had anything to do with Grace’s death. Fred was trying to deflect the inquiry away from himself. There wasn’t any sense in pursuing this further at the present time.

Drake stood up. “Melody and I are tired, dirty, and—as you’ve probably noticed—smelly. Please excuse us while we go get cleaned up.”

Melody stood also, and they filed out of the room.

CHAPTER 24

Today’s run goes from Port San Luis to Cayucos, north of Morro Bay. The first part of the run is free-form, meaning that you get to pick your own route. You can follow the road to the nuclear power plant that’s being built, but be advised that the first part of it is very hilly and curvy. Once you get past the site of the power plant under construction, there are other small roads you can take. From Los Osos you can take South Bay Boulevard past the swamp and turn left into Morro Bay State Park. Take Main Street into Morro Bay and surface streets through Morro Bay, which is dominated by the picturesque Morro Rock. Stay off the part of Route 1 that is freeway, but get on it again before you reach Cayucos.

***

“It’s days like this that make me wonder why I ever got into this race.”

Drake was panting hard running up the hill from Los Osos. He and Melody had determined that the road to the nuclear power plant was the only practical route after perusing available maps. Melody never panted as hard or sweat as much as the men, but she was struggling. Still, she tried to sound optimistic.

“It’s days like this that separate the winners from the also-rans. If we can pick the best route, we may be able to gain some time on the others.”

“If…at the moment it appears that everyone else is copying us.”

Or vice versa. One of the maps Drake had gotten his hands on was a topographical map that indicated altitude changes. He motioned for Melody to slow down a little and let the other runners pass them. He had the topo map in his hand, folded to show this stretch of the road.

“The road switches back on itself and passes quite close to here at a higher altitude. There appears to be a path connecting the two sections. If we can find it and follow it without killing ourselves in the process, we may be able to cut off quite a bit of distance.”

Several minutes later, the two plunged off the paved road onto a dirt path of dubious parentage. They ran on the hard, dry clay, trying to avoid ruts and fissures, between sections of dense and prickly brush that they didn’t want to have to bushwhack through. After a few anxious minutes, during which the steepness of the terrain made them wonder whether they were headed in the right direction, they came upon the other section of the paved road.

They turned onto it, thankful for the firmness of the asphalt and the knowledge that they knew where they were and took a quick glance to the right before they ran to the left.

Melody said, “I don’t see anyone.”

“Since we didn’t spend that much time on the shortcut, I think we can safely assume that we’ve taken the lead.”

***

They still had the lead when they passed Diablo Canyon where the nuclear power plant was under construction. They ran across a cow pasture to connect with a road that went through Montana de Oro State Park.

Melody watched the placid animals watch them and tried to look for cow pies at the same time. “We’ve seen seals, birds, crabs, and cows today. I’m assuming that all but the cows are native to this area.”

Drake laughed. “It’s not the cows you have to worry about, it’s the bulls. Although I suspect you won’t find a bull in the same pasture with cows.” He shifted his gaze to the blue water beyond the cliff. “If I’m not mistaken, that rock is called Lion Rock.”

Melody looked at the large rock that did indeed resemble a lion.

“What’s that in the water next to it?”

“It’s a boat of some sort.”

They detoured closer to the cliff but kept running. Something didn’t look right to Drake.

“That’s a bad place for a boat. It appears to be a very rocky area.”

“The way it’s tilted, I suspect it’s come upon hard times. It’s a strange looking boat. I’ve never seen a boat that looked like that.”

“It looks like a small submarine.”

Drake flashed back to the day on the beach at Malibu. He vaguely remembered seeing a shape in the water that rapidly disappeared after the shells were fired. At least he thought he had seen a shape. Maybe it was his imagination filling in details. The Navy and Coast Guard still hadn’t found anything. This place was remote enough that there was a good chance nobody else had spotted the boat if it hadn’t been there long.

“I’m going to report this to Blade.”

“Maybe there’s a pay phone in the park.”

“I’m not in any hurry to start World War Three. Let’s wait until we finish the run. Especially since we’ve got an excellent chance of gaining on everybody.”

Melody looked behind them. The closest runners were specks in the distance. “Anything you say, guv.”

She had seen enough violence in her life to echo Drake’s sentiment. She hoped that the boat would not turn out to be sinister. They angled over to the park road and continued their fast pace, determined to put more distance between themselves and the other runners.

***

Drake and Melody ate dinner in a Cayucos restaurant with several of the other runners. Nobody mentioned seeing the boat at Lion Rock, so the two didn’t bring it up. Either the others didn’t go close enough to the cliff to see it, or they didn’t think it remarkable. Regardless, Drake and Melody didn’t want to be the ones to start rumors.

They had moved into fifth place during the day’s run. Although they had gained on the two leading teams, they were still far behind them in elapsed time.

Tom invited the two to join a card game in one of the rooms of the motel. Melody, who had lost her roommate and needed to take her mind off Grace, said she would sit in for a while. Drake was still following his nightly routine of bathing, stretching, and going to bed early. He excused himself.

The message light on Drake’s telephone was flashing when he returned to his room. The message was to call a number collect. No name. Drake recognized the number as one belonging to Blade. He had talked to Blade earlier. Blade must be working late. Drake placed the call. Blade answered, repeating the number. The operator asked him if he would accept the charge from Oliver Drake.

Blade said, “Yes, ma’am.”

The operator said, “Go ahead,” and clicked off the line.

“Well, you old son of a bitch, you may be on to something.”

“Always glad to be of service to my country.”

“We haven’t yet landed personnel on the objective, but we’ve got choppers doing flyovers and taking pictures. It looks like the real thing.”

Blade was taking precautions in case somebody was listening in, so it must be important. How important, Drake wondered? “Is this going to start the big one?”

“Too soon to tell. Curious things going on. This place is remote, but not that remote. We think that it’s only been there a short time, probably since last night.”

“It was abandoned and drifted onto the rocks?”

“Unlikely, considering its location. Also, strange coincidence. You were present at the original incident. Now you’re the one who makes this discovery.”

“The other runners were present in Malibu. And any one of them could have made this discovery.”

“True. But you’ve all got the same employer. I’m sending Slick up there. He’ll meet you tomorrow.”

“Not during the run. We can’t afford to stop.”

“You’re really into this thing, aren’t you? I fear for your energetic lifestyle. When I get the urge to exercise, I lie down until it passes. All right, Slick will meet you tomorrow evening.”

“I’m not sure where we’re going to stay—”

“Don’t worry your pretty head about that. I think we can probably find you. Don’t underestimate us.”

“I’d never do that.”

CHAPTER 25

Today’s run goes from Cayucos to San Simeon (Hearst Castle) by way of Cambria, a lovely tourist trap. If you’re up to it, we’ll take a tour of Hearst Castle this afternoon. Stay on Route 1 the whole way, but be very careful. In some places there isn’t any shoulder. Run single file on the left side of the road along the narrow stretches and keep a sharp eye out for cars. The good news is that the road is fairly flat. The altitude never gets much above 200 feet. Because it’s Saturday, there will be weekend traffic.

***

What they didn’t expect to see were hitchhiking hippies, off to commune with nature in the Big Sur where their troubles would vanish in a puff of smoke. The girls, ranging from twenty-something to teenage, wore long hair and long skirts with loose blouses covering bare skin and lugged bedrolls or backpacks. The boys had equally long hair, and except for their dress, it was sometimes difficult to tell one sex from the other from behind.

Most were headed north; they stationed themselves on the right side of the road, trying to grab rides with weekenders who had carloads of children. When a Volkswagen camper with flowers painted on the sides that wasn’t already packed came along, it was like manna from heaven to them.

The runners and the hippies stared at each other as the former flashed by. They came from two different worlds, separated by a narrow strip of asphalt. Drake saw good looking girls and wondered what would happen to them if they were picked up by the wrong man. That made him speculate about free love. Which made him wonder when some of them had last washed, as he got a closer look at straggly hair and dirty clothes.

Melody interrupted his reverie. “If I were the mother of those girls, I’d lock them up until they were thirty-five.”

“You’re too young to be their mother. You’re not even thirty-five, yourself.”

“I’d lock myself up, too. I’m thinking ahead. I might get married some day, you know.”

Married. Drake pictured himself being married once in a while, but never seriously. However, it did have its attractions, abundant sex being one of them. He decided to change the subject before Melody guessed his thoughts. “It looks like we’re going to be running in a posse all day. No chance to excel on this road. We’ll be on it for a long time.”

“There will be other opportunities. We’ve moved up to fifth place. Who would have guessed that when we started out? At least we shouldn’t lose ground to anyone.”

In fact, several of the teams were lagging behind the group with various ailments affecting feet and knees.

Melody spoke again. “What do you think Blade’s up to? Isn’t this a job for the U.S. Army, Navy, and Marines?” She sang, “From the halls of Montezuma, to the shores of Lion Rock.”

“Blade sees a conspiracy based on the fact that we were present at Malibu and also the ones who found the sub.”

“So we’re working for the Russkies?”

“Not us. Somebody at Giganticorp.”

“Meaning Casey. He’s the top dog. Why would he do that?”

“Who knows? Maybe he’s an idealist.”

“Idealists are fine as long as they don’t actually try to do anything. You said that Slick is going to meet us at our motel, which I understand is in Cambria. At least he’s not going to show up in his Porsche around the bend somewhere.”

“I nixed that idea. This isn’t like the first time when we were so far behind that stopping for a few minutes to chat with Slick didn’t matter.”

They were passing a house on the ocean side of the road with a sign that read, “This place dangerous to dogs, children, and reasonable people.” The yard was strewn with junk.

Drake smiled. At least they were warned.

***

Drake and Melody were amazed at the magnificent buildings and the Olympian style swimming pool on the barren hillside above the sea. They were even more surprised at what they saw within the buildings.

Melody read the information brochure. “It says that Hearst collected items in hundreds of different categories. Including ceilings. I say, who in their right mind collects ceilings?”

They were gazing up at one of those ceilings at the moment, brought over in pieces from some medieval castle in Europe and reassembled in its current habitat.

“The man thought big. You can’t deny that.”

Drake and Melody jerked their heads down to the horizontal. There was no mistaking that resonant voice. Slick smiled easily at them from behind his dark glasses. They helped him take on the coloring of a tourist, along with a garish sport shirt and white sneakers. Only his powerful-looking arms and flat stomach gave away the fact that he probably wasn’t driving one of those campers with the wide outside mirrors that the runners had to dodge all day, like a matador evading the horns of the bull.

Drake said, “I’m glad to see that you enjoy the finer things in life.”

“Thought I’d absorb a little culture while I was up here. Let’s stroll over to the pool.”

They could talk outdoors without being overheard. There wasn’t anything unusual about tourists chatting with each other. Among the Greco-Roman columns that surrounded the pool, they felt as if they had been carried back to an ancient age.

Melody couldn’t resist asking about the topic that had occupied her thinking all day. “What did they find out about the boat?”

“Ah yes, you’ve been out of touch in your own little world. Well, it’s going to hit the six o’clock news. What is being published is that it is indeed a miniature submarine, equipped to lob shells of the sort that destroyed the homes in Malibu. It appears that several such shells were fired by it.”

Slick paused, prompting Drake to ask, “What isn’t being published?”

“All of the written material in the boat is in Russian, including the signs that say, ‘Watch your head.’”

“Why is that being suppressed?”

“The president doesn’t feel that we have enough information to make it public. There’s no sign of a crew, no sign of any enemy ship that might have come in to pick one up. The Navy and Coast Guard have the coast blanketed. The boat has suffered very little structural damage, and wasn’t in danger of sinking. Too many things don’t make sense.”

“You mean the president doesn’t want to start World War Three? That’s novel. I was young at the time, but as I recall, Roosevelt was aching for an excuse to get into WW Two.”

“Don’t knock it. Wars hot and cold keep folks like you and me in beer and Porsches. Vietnam’s not going to last forever. I know a little bit about your employment history. Both of you had top secret clearances. Which is why Blade authorized me to tell you this stuff. That and he needs your help.”

Melody looked at the columns being reflected off Slick’s dark glasses and wondered, not for the first time, what color his eyes were. “What does he want us to do?”

“You have access to Casey without arousing suspicion. He’s the fair-haired child of the military, because he’s got lots of brass on his board. Also, to give him credit, he’s delivered weapons’ systems on time, within budget, something not all our suppliers do. Of course, he’s always looking for new markets. One thing he’s developing is a mini sub, similar to the one we found.

“For several reasons, including the coincidence of you being present at both Malibu and Lion Rock, we think he’s got a dog in this hunt, but we don’t know what his game is. Anything you can find out would be appreciated.”

Drake had a thought. “Any idea where the sub was manufactured?”

“It was built using the metric system, but the whole world uses metric except us. That’s something we want to find out. Casey’s giving a campaign speech on network television tonight at eight. Give it a listen. Maybe you’ll get some clues.”

Melody said, “We only see Casey when he decides to drop by, and we never know when that will be. He was just here because of Grace’s murder.”

“He likes Running California, and he likes you guys. He’ll show up oftener than you think.”

“Where did they take the sub?”

“It’s being towed to Monterey, even as we speak.”

Drake, newly money conscious, said, “You mentioned beer and Porsches. Is any of that going to filter down to us?”

“To be honest with you, since you’re off the books, you may wind up with Green Stamps.”

“So we’re doing it for our love of humankind. Where are you going from here?”

“Thought I’d take a drive up the coast to Monterey. This rugged beauty turns me on.”

*

Drake and Melody ate together but not with any of the other runners, so that they could discuss their role as spies. Actually, double agents in a way, since they were being paid by Casey. They decided that because of the things that had happened so far in connection with Running California, this duplicity didn’t bother them, but they didn’t come up with any earthshaking plans either.

On their walk back to the motel, they passed a girl sitting on the sidewalk, wrapped in a blanket. She had long, blond, straight hair and a young, pretty face with tears running down her cheeks. She looked at them but didn’t say anything.

Drake made a move to go back to her, but Melody grabbed his hand and pulled him away.

“Don’t get involved. I say this for your own good. I know you want to help her, and I’m not going to question the purity of your motives, even though it’s possible she might offer to thank you in a particularly pleasant way, but she can only bring you trouble. Besides, we’re on a mission tonight.”

The mission being to listen to Casey’s speech. They went to Drake’s room to listen to it together, so they could compare notes. Drake ran a cold bath for himself and even obtained a container of ice cubes from the motel dispenser and poured them into the tub. He had learned to almost tolerate the freezing water. He left the door to the bathroom open, which enabled him to hear the speech. Melody didn’t object, but she also didn’t volunteer to wash his back.

First they listened to news reports about the submarine. These were delivered with an urgency approaching hysteria. It was probably a good thing that no mention was made of the Russian writing found in it.

Somehow, Casey had wangled time on a national network, even though he was running for senator from California. When it was time for him to speak, a network anchor introduced him as the CEO of the company that was instrumental in the nation’s military preparedness.

It was obvious from the start that Casey wasn’t going to waste his time on California issues now that he had a national pulpit. He immediately started talking about the submarine. He said that the participants in Running California had gone past the spot where the boat was found on the same day, something that had not been mentioned in the news reports. He expanded on that.

“What if that submarine had still been manned? With its armament, it could easily have destroyed some of the cream of California citizenry, just as it killed one of our runners at Malibu, as well as destroying several houses. This is just the tip of the iceberg. There’s more—information that has been suppressed by the administration, because it doesn’t want to worry you unduly, but, ladies and gentlemen, this is information you need to know because it’s a threat to national security.”

Casey then told about the Russian writing in the sub. Melody wondered how he knew about that. Of course. His military connection. He was getting feedback on everything the military did. She had originally gripped the arms of her chair to keep herself from running into the bathroom and jumping into the tub with Drake, ice water and all. Now she gripped them harder.

She called to Drake. “Did you hear that?”

“Loud and clear. I think we know who our warmonger is.”

Casey was just getting warmed up. He came close to saying that a president who didn’t defend the country ought to be impeached. Then he talked about creating a buffer zone along the coast—land that would be owned by the government for security, with anti-missile batteries, but would also be a continuous beach during peacetime. Everyone would have complete access to the water everywhere. He was vague about the details.

Drake remembered that Casey had talked about this before. He must be serious about it since he was bringing it up again. Drake ran the water out of the tub and vigorously toweled himself off, trying to bring some circulation back into his frozen limbs. In spite of the discomfort, he had to admit that these baths were helping to keep him going. He threw on some clothes and came back into the main room just as Casey finished speaking.

Melody turned off the television set. “Apparently, he doesn’t know that you were the one who spotted the sub. I’m sure he would have mentioned it if he did. That means what you tell Blade isn’t getting through to him.”

“Blade may be the only person in government who’s not in his pocket. But I’m glad our spymaster isn’t in cahoots with the person we’re supposed to be spying on.”

“His bringing up the Russian business when the president tried to suppress it is going to cause an uproar, or my name isn’t Miss Marple. That’s why I turned off the telly. Flying accusations give me a headache.”

“How about that proposed land grab—taking the beach houses of the rich and famous, as well as the rich and not so famous? He’s definitely trying to appeal to the masses—telling them they’ll have full beach access. They really do now. They just have to work at it in some places.”

“Your masses had better start connecting the dots and realize that if the government can take property from people along the coast, they can take property from people inland, as well. One of the reasons I like the U.S. is your strong private property laws, since property rights are mandatory for a free country.”

“Unfortunately, we’ve also got something called eminent domain, which weakens the laws. If Casey can convince us that we’re being attacked and land grabs are necessary for our defense, he might get away with it.”

CHAPTER 26

Today’s run goes from San Simeon to Gorda on Route 1. You’ll leave San Luis Obispo County and enter Monterey County. The hardest part of the run is two hills after the county line that rise to over 700 feet. Then you’ll dip down close to sea level before climbing to Gorda at 300 feet. Traffic gets lighter as you head north, but be careful, especially since it’s Sunday.

***

“Did you listen to Casey’s speech last night?” Melody addressed the question to Tom.

They were running in a pack again, at least for the moment. She suspected this would come to an abrupt halt later in the day when they started climbing the hills. The hills would separate, as she liked to think, the men from the women—or at least most of the men from one woman. The men would not fare well.

“Speech?” Tom was drawing a blank.

Drake raised his voice to include all the runners within earshot. “Did anyone listen to Casey’s speech last night or read about it in this morning’s paper?”

Apparently not, judging from the lack of response. Drake gave up and turned to Melody. “What we have here is a bunch of political apathetics.”

“Unfortunately, what they don’t know can hurt them.”

Melody and Drake had obtained a San Francisco newspaper that spoke about the controversy Casey had caused by divulging information the president had repressed. The article mentioned that people in the administration were calling for Casey’s scalp, saying that he had released classified information, but there was no proof given that it was actually classified.

The other side said that when America’s security was at stake, people had a right to know everything. Some members of Congress praised Casey for making the information public. There were calls for an attack on the USSR. An editorial seemed generally favorable to Casey’s idea for the creation of a buffer of land between the people and the ocean but said exceptions should be made for populated areas like San Francisco.

“What have we learned about our target?” Drake meant Casey, and kept his voice down so that the other runners wouldn’t hear their conversation.

“He is ambitious, like Caesar was supposed to be—only I don’t hear a Marc Antony taking his side and denying it.”

“He isn’t afraid of infringing on the rights of the populace, using national security as an excuse.”

“Ever the excuse of those who would wield the power.”

“You and I risked our lives fighting against this kind of tyranny. It looks like we’re back in the business again.”

***

Gorda didn’t have much of anything, including motels and restaurants. It did have, as Drake noticed, probably the highest gasoline prices in the country. He and Melody ate dinner with Fred and his new assistant, Charles.

Fred was beaming as they sat down at their table in the small, homey restaurant.

“Congratulations, you two. You’re now in fourth place. Are you ready to take a shot at the lead?”

“Sure,” Melody said. “I’m spending the evening casting spells on Tom, Jerry, Phil, and Brian to slow them down. It’s a good thing I’m a witch.”

“You gained a few minutes on both teams today.”

Drake made a face. “At the rate we’re gaining on them, we’ll catch them in a month or so. But, unfortunately, we’re almost out of time.”

Charles spoke to Melody. “When I drove past you today on that first big hill, you were running away from the men. How do you do it?” His expression was a mixture of awe and admiration.

Melody didn’t mind having male admirers, and if they were younger, that was all right too. Maybe she should sample some of that young stuff. After all, Drake had. She gave Charles her best smile.

“I tie their shoelaces together, but I leave enough play so that they don’t notice it.”

Drake didn’t mind Melody having male admirers, but did she have to smile at Charles like that? They were here for a purpose. It was time to get to work.

He looked at Fred. “What did you think about Casey’s speech last night?”

“I liked it. He said the things that had to be said. The first job of government is national defense. He’ll make a good senator.”

Melody’s smile changed to an expression resembling cynicism.

“Spoken like a loyal employee of defense contractor Giganticorp. Who’s going to take over when Casey becomes senator?”

“Not me, but we have a few candidates in mind.”

“Do any of their names start with General?”

Fred laughed. “I can’t tell you that. It’s a military secret.”

Drake’s turn. “Do you agree with this buffer zone concept that means uprooting everybody who lives near the beach?”

Fred hesitated. “It’s a radical idea, I admit. But…”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures. It’s not the first time he’s talked about that. I saw on TV that there have even been demonstrations in Malibu by those who want the rich people cleared off the beach. The comments of the demonstrators to the reporter made it sound more like a class struggle than a security measure. If I can’t afford to live on the beach, then you can’t either.”

Fred shrugged and turned to the waitress to order a drink.

CHAPTER 27

Today’s run goes from Gorda to Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, all on Route 1. The most challenging part of the run is the hill that rises to about 800 feet at Lucia, although the whole route is rolling with repeated gains and losses of 200 feet. Pace yourselves, take it easy on the downhills and carry plenty of liquids. There are a couple of drinking fountains along the route you can use to fill your water bottles. It’s Monday, and traffic should be lighter than it was yesterday.

***

In spite of the fact that they were now in fourth place and had a shot at third, Drake was unhappy as they climbed the big hill. Not about the race, itself, but the events surrounding the race. Two people connected with the race were dead, including the beautiful Grace. Houses had been destroyed, the submarine that apparently had done the damage found, with evidence pointing to the USSR.

Panic had ensued, fed by the media. Some were accusing the president of doing nothing in the face of imminent danger to the U.S., and a drive to impeach him was taking shape. The president, although upset with Casey for talking about the Russian connection, maintained that the administration didn’t have enough evidence to take any action. Russian officials denied any part in the incidents and were accusing the U.S. of heating up the cold war.

Casey was feeding the flames with his rhetoric, apparently for his political advantage. His proposal for a buffer zone along the coast was finding favor among certain groups of people, and the authors of a couple of newspaper op-ed pieces opposing it had been attacked as elitist and unpatriotic.

Drake and Melody were supposed to be collecting information on Casey, but that was hard to do when they were in the wilds of the Big Sur and Casey was off campaigning God knew where. Fred wasn’t going to help them. Drake was feeling the frustration of watching negative events unfold in an escalating fashion without having any control over what happened.

Melody sensed his mood and tried to cheer him up. “We’ve proven to be the best team in the hills, of which we have plenty today. By the end of the day we may be in third place.”

“What if we win the race and lose the war?”

“We’re not at war yet. Don’t count your battleships before they’re launched. Enjoy the rugged but spectacular scenery we’re running through. Live for the moment. Eat, drink, and make merry…”

“Maybe you’re right. About this Merry. Who’s she?”

Melody hit him.

Drake laughed. “Well, you’ve got Charles as a new conquest. We can add him to the growing list, which includes Tom, who’s always inviting you for drinks and card games. And Peaches. Speaking of Peaches, since we don’t have access to Casey at the moment, maybe it’s time for you to have another talk with Peaches. He may know more than he’s telling.”

“All right, I’ll do it. After all, I have to make sure that my conquests remained conquered. All this talking is slowing us down. Let’s shut up and see if we can beat everybody up the hill.”

***

Melody decided to dress up for her dinner with Peaches. She had invited him when she and Drake finished the run ahead of the pack and found Peaches waiting for them with the bus. He had been eating dinners alone or with Fred, but not with the runners. Melody indicated that it would be just the two of them. Peaches raised his eyebrows but accepted with no questions.

She was tired of wearing running clothes and sweat suits. She hadn’t worn a skirt since the “Pageant of the Masters” way back in Laguna Beach. Even when going out for drinks with Tom and Jerry and a few other runners, she had dressed very casually. In addition, in spite of all the men around, she had been celibate. Other than engaging in a little kneesy with Tom in a bar, she hadn’t done anything that would distress a nun.

She put on a miniskirt and a top with a V-neck cut down to here. Backless, it wasn’t built to accommodate a bra, so she took the Grace approach and went without. She had no idea what effect this would have on Peaches, the stoic, but figured what the hell, I’m going to do it anyway.

Peaches drove them in the company car to a restaurant some distance from the motel. Both motels and restaurants were so sparse in this area that it was a wonder he knew where it was, but he did. He was the perfect gentleman, even holding her chair for her when she sat down.

Melody took off the sweater she had worn against the fog and chill that had rolled in late that afternoon and draped it over the back of her chair. Since she had chosen to wear this outfit, she wasn’t going to hide it or what was beneath it. Since Peaches was wearing a suit, it was appropriate for her to be dressed up.

When the waitress came for drink orders, Peaches ordered iced tea—Melody obviously wasn’t going to get him drunk—and she ordered a glass of wine. She pondered how to start a conversation.

She decided on an open-ended question. “What do you think about everything that’s been going on?”

Peaches smiled a little and paused. “Casey really wants to be a senator.”

That wasn’t new or startling information, but Melody sensed there was more behind it.

“Has he been planning to run for a long time?”

“I think that’s why Running California got started. He wanted to do something that would bring attention to himself. Fred told me they picked some of the runners very carefully. Tom because he won the Boston Marathon. Drake…”

“Because…?”

“Because of his father.”

“Admiral Drake?”

“Admiral Drake is a good friend of Senator Leffingwell, the other senator from California. He’s been in Congress for a long time. A word from him could help Casey’s chances, according to Fred. Or even if he doesn’t say anything negative about him it would be positive.”

“Hmmm.” Peaches knew more about politics than the runners, at least as far as Casey was concerned. Casey was playing all the angles. “When Drake got into that accident before the race started, it must have really upset Casey.”

Peaches took a swig of iced tea and seemed to study the ice cubes in the glass. Melody sensed that he wanted to say something; she decided to wait him out. Finally, he put the glass down.

“On the day the race was scheduled to start, most of the runners had arrived at the border park. I remember that you were there. Drake was one of the few who were missing. Fred usually doesn’t do anything physical that he doesn’t have to, but he was pacing up and down like he was anxious about something. I didn’t notice it so much then because I had just started working with him, but looking back I can see that it was abnormal behavior for him.”

Melody tried to think back to that first day, but she couldn’t remember anything that had happened before she had received word about Drake’s accident. Again she waited for Peaches to continue.

“He kept looking down the road that came into the park. I figured he was just watching for the other runners. He was the one who spotted the fire.”

Now Melody remembered. Although she had been some distance from Fred, introducing herself to the other runners, she had heard him yell. She turned and saw the flames shooting up, and her first thought was a fear that Drake had been in an accident. Uncanny, because she didn’t claim to have psychic powers. But after not seeing him for six years, she didn’t want anything to spoil their reunion.

Peaches continued, “Fred yelled for me to get the car. He had me drive as fast as I could. He kept swearing under his breath, like he knew what had happened. When we got to the taxi, the fire was so hot we couldn’t get close to it. He said, ‘Are they inside? Can you see if anybody’s inside?’ That’s when Drake yelled from the field. He looked very relieved when he heard Drake’s voice.”

Peaches stopped again and took another drink of his tea. Melody was confused.

“So what do you make of this?”

“I think Fred knew the accident was going to happen.”

“You mean he planned it?”

“He may have set it up, but it would have been Casey’s idea. Fred wouldn’t have done it by himself.”

“But why? Especially if he wanted Drake in the race?”

Peaches shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve been over it and over it in my head, and I can’t figure it out.”

CHAPTER 28

More of the same today as you run from Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park to Palo Colorado Road near the Carmel Highlands, all on Route 1. Early on, the route goes up to over 900 feet and then sharply downhill, bottoming out not far above sea level at the Little Sur River. Then up to 500 feet before falling again. This will be another test of your ability to run in the hills. Watch for traffic; shoulders are often narrow or non-existent.

***

“How does it feel to be in third place?”

Tom addressed this question to Melody. It was early in the run. Low-lying fog hid the water, and it was hazy enough on the road to keep the temperature cool. The teams were still closely bunched, but they were attacking a major climb. Melody knew from recent experience that by the end of the run, they would be spread out over several miles.

“It feels great; if you and Jerry would agree to walk today’s route, it would feel even better.”

Tom laughed. He and Jerry still held a substantial lead, and they had an annoying habit of dogging the heels of whoever was in first place during the daily runs and never losing very much ground. Not all the runners were as sanguine about the fact that Melody and Drake had managed to go from ninth place to third place in a short period of time. There were grumblings, especially since Melody was a “girl,” but none of the runners had dared to say anything to her face. What could they say—that she had an unfair advantage on the hills because she was lighter? It wasn’t as if she were attached to a helium balloon.

Drake, who was running a step behind Melody, touched her arm and motioned for her to fall back slightly.

“Are you going to fill me in on your dinner with Peaches? I expected you to come to my room last night.”

“It was fairly late when we got back. I knew you would be going through your routine, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“How thoughtful of you. I take it you two hit it off.”

“Yes, we did. Peaches is a gentleman, which makes him a member of a rare breed.”

Melody was sure Peaches had enjoyed her company, although he hadn’t tried anything, and except for wearing her most revealing dress, she hadn’t tried to lead him on. However, she wouldn’t mind causing Drake a twinge of jealousy. On second thought, she didn’t know whether he was capable of that emotion. Maybe she should just tell him what Peaches had told her.

“One reason I didn’t see you last night is because I thought you should be rested when I told you what Peaches said.”

Drake was instantly all ears. “What did he say?”

Melody repeated the description Peaches had given of how Fred had acted before and after the accident and Peaches’ thoughts about Casey’s involvement.

“That bastard.” Drake stumbled and almost fell. “So Casey didn’t want me in the race, after all.”

“If that’s true, he changed his mind. But Peaches doesn’t think it’s that simple.”

Melody told how Drake had been picked because of his father. Drake was livid.

“He’s not only a bastard, he’s a conniving bastard. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.”

“You may get the opportunity. Peaches thinks that Casey is in Monterey. We’ll be staying in the Carmel area tonight. Carmel isn’t far from Monterey.

***

Melody insisted on going along when Drake borrowed the company car and drove to Monterey. She was afraid of what Drake might do to Casey. They found out what hotel Casey was staying at from Fred, and after leaving a couple of urgent messages, Casey had called them back and agreed to meet them for dinner.

If Casey was concerned with what Drake wanted, he didn’t show it as he escorted them into one of Monterey’s finest restaurants after meeting them in the parking lot. Drake let him order the wine before he started talking.

“I want to talk about the accident that happened the day the race was supposed to start.”

Casey nodded, apparently unconcerned. “You’re fully recovered from that, aren’t you?”

“Except for my back. I still have spasms; I’m always going to have to be careful of it. But I want to discuss how it happened. Everybody agrees that it was intentional. That being the case, somebody paid the truck driver to cause it. My contacts tell me that my previous employer had nothing to do with it. Any enemies I might have made in the world would have acted years ago.”

“So what do you think happened?”

“One of my contacts has come up with something. All of the evidence points to one person.”

“And that is…?”

“You.”

Drake’s eyes bored into Casey’s. He was enjoying this, even though Casey had on his poker face.

“Me? Surely you jest. I’m paying you to be in this race. As they say on Perry Mason, what’s my motivation?”

Drake shrugged. “Damned if I know. But then I never did understand all the ins and outs of politics. I think I’ll have a talk with my father about this. He’s a lot more politically tuned in than I am.”

Drake continued to watch Casey. Did he see a slight change in his expression? Had he gotten to him? Casey shifted in his seat. Drake waited for him to speak. Casey took a deep breath.

“I have a confession. I really did want you in the race. When we approached you, you agreed to run, but not with the wholehearted enthusiasm of most of the other runners. I was afraid you’d fall behind and drop out. I needed a way to get you to stay. I decided to frighten you into thinking that someone from your past was trying to hurt you, and that the safest place for you was in the race.”

“Frighten me? Hurt me? You damn near killed me.”

“That was a terrible mistake. The truck driver was overzealous. I just wanted him to bump the taxi—to give you a warning. He didn’t get the right message. Look, I want to make it up to you. Starting today, I’m going to double your per diem to two thousand dollars—a thousand apiece.” He managed a smile. “I’m sure you won’t have to mention any of this to your father.”

It was concession time. Drake would be a fool not to milk it. “There’s one other thing you can do.”