Harry Harrison - The Turing Option

“You’re safe now. You can come out.”

Brian popped up onto the backseat. “Thought I was going to suffocate. No problems, I guess — or we wouldn’t be here.”

“No problems. You can get out. Wait — let me turn the lights off first. And the inside light. Just in case.”

Brian stepped out into the warm darkness. Free! For the first time in a year. He breathed deep of the dry desert air, allowed himself a long moment to take in the sky brimming over with stars, filled with them right down to the dark and jagged outline of the mountains. Heard the car door close as Snaresbrook came out and joined him. He turned to face her, looked past her and saw the other car, felt a surge of panic when he saw that someone was standing next to it.

“Who’s there! What happened?”

“It’s all right, Brian,” Snaresbrook said quietly. “It’s Shelly. She’s here to help you. She knows about everything that is happening and is on your side.”

Brian’s throat was so tight that it took an effort to speak.

“How long have you known?” he asked when Shelly came and stood before him.

“Just for the last week. Ever since I told Dr. Snaresbrook about my leaving the military because of what they were doing to you. I convinced her that I wanted to help you — and she believed me.”

“That’s when I told her what you were planning to do. I have a great fear, Brian, that you are not ready to tackle the outside world on your own yet. I took the calculated risk that she was sincere — her presence here instead of the military police is proof that I was correct. I have been very concerned about you and, frankly, I did not want you to learn about her part in this affair until you were safely away from your prison.”

Brian took a shuddering breath, let it out slowly — and smiled into the darkness. “You’re right, Doc. I don’t think I could have hacked it before. But now that it’s done — I feel great! Welcome aboard, Shelly.”

“Thank you both for letting me help. I’m coming with you. You are not going to be alone.”

“I’ve got to think about that. Later. Right now we had better get moving.” He unknotted his tie and pulled off the army shut. “Did the Major buy your story, Doc?”

“He likes you, Brian, they all seem to. I feel certain that no one will go near the room until the morning.”

“I hope so. But when they do find that I’m missing it’s going to really hit the fan. You know I feel sorry for them all. In a way it’s a really dirty trick to play. They’ll be in the yogurt for sure.”

“A little late to think about that, isn’t it?”

“No, I’ve already gone that route. I thought long and hard about it when I was planning the escape. I feel sorry for them — but they were my jailers — and I needed out of jail. Now, what’s the plan?”

“Shelly takes over from here. I’m going back to Megalobe, do some work in my lab there. Spend the night. That will muddy the waters a bit, perhaps even prevent them from tying me in with the escape. The bigger the mystery the better the chance you have to pull it off. I’ll even box my connection machine and put it back into the car so they will have trouble tying a missing box with your escape. So let’s drag Sven out and put it in Shelly’s car. The faster I get back, the better it will be.”

As soon as this was done, after a quick peck on the cheek and hurried good-byes, they separated. When the other car had made a U-turn and headed back toward Megalobe, Shelly started her engine and drove west. Brian looked out at the hills moving by, felt an even greater sense of relief than he had when he first knew he was free.

“I’m glad that you are here,” he said. “And maybe we better stick together. At least for a while.” He looked at his watch. “At this speed we should reach the border by eleven at the latest.”

“Are you sure? I’ve never driven this way before.”

“Neither have I — that I remember. But I have been reading lots of guidebooks and maps. There shouldn’t be much traffic and the total drive is only eighty-seven miles.”

They were silent after that: there was very little now to say but a lot to think about.

They turned off 78 before Brawley and headed south toward El Centra and Calexico. The signs reading MEXICO led them around the town center to the border crossing. It was just half past ten when the customs booths appeared ahead. For the first time Brian felt nervous.

“All the travel books say that there is no hassle getting into Mexico. Is that right?”

“Come and bring your dollars. I’ve never been stopped going in — or even been looked at for that matter.”

There were no American customs officers in sight when they drove across the national boundary. The Mexican official, sporting a large gun and even larger stomach, just glanced at their license plate then turned away.

“We did it!” Brian shouted as they rolled along the street of garish shops and bars.

“We sure enough did! What’s next?”

“A change of plan for one thing. The original idea was for the doc to drop me and Sven off and go back to the States. She had no clue as to what my future plans would be.”

“Do you?”

“Positively! I’m going to take the train to Mexico City tonight.”

“So am I.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“All right. We stick to the original plan except you take the car back across the border, return by cab—”

“Nope. Too complicated, too time-consuming. And it leaves a trail. We just leave the car here with the key in the ignition.”

“It’ll get stolen!”

“That’s the idea. It should vanish completely if the local car thieves are up to scratch. That’s a lot better than having it found in a parking lot in Calexico to show which way we went.”

“You can’t do that. The money…”

“I wanted a new car anyway. And maybe someday I can collect the insurance. So not another word. Which way is the station?”

“I’ll look at the street map.”

They found the Ferrocarriles Nacionales de Mexico easily enough. Shelly drove past the station and around the corner to a badly lit street, parked under a burnt-out streetlight. She took a small suitcase from the trunk, remembered to leave the keys, then helped Brian lift out the heavy box.

“The first step — and the biggest one,” he said.

“One hour and twenty-one minutes are left before the train leaves,” the box said in muffled but possibly admonitory tones.

“More than enough time. Be patient — we’re the ones dragging the box.”

They got it as far as the station entrance before Shelly called quits.

“Enough! You watch this thing while I see if they rise to something as exotic as a redcap.”

She was back a few minutes later with the man. He was wearing a battered cap, his badge of rank, and pushing a handcart.

“We have to buy tickets,” Brian said as the porter eased the metal edge of the hand truck under the box. He hoped that the man spoke English.

“No problem. Where are you going?”

“Mexico City.”

“No problem. You people, you just follow me.”

The unhappy-looking woman behind the window grille also spoke English, he was relieved to find out. Yes, there was a first-class compartment available. The ancient machine at her elbow disgorged two tickets, which she hand-stamped. The only problem was money.

“Don’t take dollars,” she said, scowling, as though it were his fault. “Only moneda national.”

“Can’t we change money here?” Shelly asked.

“The change is closed already.”

Brian’s surge of panic was only slightly relieved when the porter said, “I got a friend, change money.”