Stephen King - Firestarter

“Coming along, yes. I’m coming along.”

“That’s right,” Andy said grimly. “Now-what sort of arrangements have you made about security?”

“No particular security arrangements,” Cap said. “You’re pretty much incapacitated by Thorazine. Also, you’re tipped over and unable to use your mental-domination ability. It has become dormant.”

“Ah, yes,” Andy said, and put a slightly shaky hand to his forehead. “Do you mean I’ll be riding the plane alone?”

“No,” Cap said immediately, “I believe I’ll come along myself.”

“Yes, but other than the two of us?”

“There will be two Shop men along, partly to act as stewards and partly to keep an eye on you. SOP, you know. Protect the investment.”

“Only two operatives are scheduled to go with us? You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“And the flight crew, of course.”

“Yes.”

Andy looked out the window. They were halfway back now. This was the crucial part, and his head was already aching so badly that he was afraid he might forget something. If he did, the whole cardhouse would come tumbling down.

Charlie, he thought, and tried to hold on.

“Hawaii’s a long way from Virginia, Captain Hollister. Will the plane make a refueling stop?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know where?”

“No.” Cap said serenely, and Andy could have punched him in the eye.

“When you speak to…” What was his name? He groped frantically in his tired, hurt mind and retrieved it. “When you speak to Puck, find out where the plane will set down for refueling.”

“Yes, all right.”

“Just work it naturally into your conversation with him.”

“Yes, I’ll find out where it’s going to refuel by working it naturally into our conversation.” He glanced at Andy with thoughtful, dreamy eyes, and Andy found himself wondering if this man had given the order that Vicky be killed. There was a sudden urge to tell him to floor the accelerator pedal and drive into that oncoming bridge abutment. Except for Charlie. Charlie! his mind said. Hold on for Charlie. “Did I tell you that Puck slices?” Cap said fondly.

“Yes. You did.” Think! Think, dammit! Somewhere near Chicago or Los Angeles seemed the most likely. But not at a civilian airport like O'Hare or L. A. International. The plane would refuel at an airbase. That in itself presented no problem to his rag of a plan-it was one of the few things that did not-as long as he could find out where in advance.

“We’d like to leave at three in the afternoon,” he told Cap.

“Three.”

“You’ll see that this John Rainbird is somewhere else.”

“Send him away?” Cap said hopefully, and it gave Andy a chill to realize that Cap was afraid of Rainbird-quite badly afraid.

“Yes. It doesn’t matter where.”

“San Diego?”

“All right.”

Now. Last lap. He was just going to make it; up ahead a green reflectorized sign pointed the way to the Longmont exit. Andy reached into the front pocket of his pants and pulled out a folded slip of paper. For the moment, he only held it in his lap, between first and second fingers.

“You’re going to tell the two Shop guys who are going to Hawaii with us to meet us at the airbase,” he said. “They’re to meet us at Andrews. You and I will go to Andrew just as we are now.”

“Yes.”

Andy drew in a deep breath. “But my daughter will be with us.”

“ Her?” Cap showed real agitation for the first time. “Her?” She’s dangerous! She can’t-we can’t-”

“She wasn’t dangerous until you people started playing with her,” Andy said harshly. “Now she is coming with us and you are not to contradict me again, do you understand that?”

This time the car’s swerve was more pronounced, and Cap moaned. “She’ll be coming with us,” he agreed. “I won’t contradict you anymore. That hurts. That hurts.” But not as much as it hurts me .

Now his voice seemed to be coming from far away, through the blood-soaked net of pain that was pulling tighter and tighter around his brain. “You’re going to give her this,” Andy said, and passed the folded note to Cap. “Give it to her today, but do it carefully, so that no one suspects.”

Cap tucked the note into his breast pocket. Now they were approaching the Shop; on their left were the double runs of electrified fence. Warning signs flashed past every fifty yards or so.

“Repeat back the salient points,” Andy said.

Cap spoke quickly and concisely-the voice of a man who had been trained in the act of recall since the days of his military-academy boyhood.

“I will arrange for you to leave for Hawaii on an army transport plane on Wednesday instead of Saturday. I will be coming with you; your daughter will also accompany us. The two Shop agents who will also be coming will meet us at Andrews. I will find out from Puck where the plane will be refueling. I’ll do that when I call him to change the flight date. I have a note to give your daughter. I’ll give it to her after I finish talking to Puck, and I will do it in a way which will arouse no undue suspicion. And I will arrange to have John Rainbird in San Diego next Wednesday. I believe that covers the waterfront.”

“Yes,” Andy said, “I believe it does.” He leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. Jumbled fragments of past and present flew through his mind, aimlessly, jackstraws blown in the high wind. Did this really have a chance to work, or was he only buying death for both of them? They knew what Charlie could do now; they’d had firsthand experience. If it went wrong, they would finish their trip in the cargo bay of that army transport plane. In two boxes.

Cap paused at the guardbooth, rolled down his window, and handed over a plastic card, which the man on duty slipped into a computer terminal.

“Go ahead, sir,” he said.

Cap drove on.

“One last thing, Captain Hollister. You’re going to forget all about this. You’ll do each of the things we’ve discussed perfectly spontaneously. You’ll discuss them with no one.” “All right.” Andy nodded. It wasn’t all right, but it would have to do. The chances of setting up an echo here were extraordinarily high because he had been forced to push the man terribly hard and also because the instructions he had given Cap would go completely against the grain. Cap might be able to bring everything off simply by virtue of his position here. He might not. Right now Andy was too tired and in too much pain to care much.

He was barely able to get out of the car; Cap had to take his arm to steady him. He was dimly aware that the cold autumn drizzle felt good against his face.

The two men from the Biscayne looked at him with a kind of cold disgust. One of them was Don Jules. Jules was wearing a blue sweatshirt that read

Get a good look at the stoned fat man, Andy thought groggily. He was close to tears again, and his breath began to catch and hitch in his throat. You get a good look now, because if the fat guy gets away this time, he’s going to blow this whole rotten cesspool right out of the swamp.

“There, there,” Cap said, and patted him on the shoulder with patronizing and perfunctory sympathy. Just do your job, Andy thought, holding on grimly against the tears; he would not cry in front of them again, none of them. Just do your job, you son of a bitch.

Back in his apartment, Andy stumbled to his bed, hardly aware of what he was doing, and fell asleep. He lay like a dead thing for the next six hours, while blood seeped from a minute rupture in his brain and a number of brain cells grew white and died.