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“I think he’s after the sa we are”

“Which is?”

“Better you not know, Rube You’ve stuck your neck out far enough already”

“Sam, come on—”

“Just leave it, Rube Please”

Haywood paused, then sighed “Okay, you’re the boss But listen: You’ve been lucky so far, but your luck could run out in a big hurry”

“I know”

“Will you at least let ot a pen?” Sarabbed a pad from the end table and took down the name and address Rube recited “I trust him Go see him”

“Will do”

“And for God’s sake, take care of yourselves, you hear me?”

“I hear you We’ve been through soether, Remi and I We’ll handle this one”

“How exactly?”

“Easy We’re going stay one step ahead of them”

Three hours later Saravel parking lot and eased to a stop beside a rusted Quonset hut topped by a windsock and bearing a faded hand-painted sign: AIR SAMPSON Fifty yards to the right was another Quonset hut, this one larger, and through the sliding double doors they could see the nose of an airplane On the other side of the hangar was a landing strip composed of crushed seashells

“This is it?” Remi asked, eyes narrowed