No Immunity

and giving him shit in return, he knew the value of keeping cool. If you get into a pissing contest, when a real chance comes on the horizon, you can’t grab it because you’ve got your hands full.
    If there’s one thing you’ve got to make in the oil-exploration business, it’s quick decisions. You screw around and a couple hundred million gushes into some other guy’s pocket. He’d told that to Maida before she took the kids and left, but she was too timid to see. It was now or never, all or nothing with Adcock Explorations. He’d played it right; it was now, it was all. Until Grady Hummacher.
    Grady in Gattozzi, that sounded like the guy. He could remember Grady saying something offhand about Gattozzi. Over drinks. What? Some girl had taken him up there, shown him some park or something. Or had he taken some girl—the same one, or another one? Adcock had been only half listening. He sighed irritably—well, how could he have known that Grady Hummacher’s social life would become a multi-million-dollar issue? He tried to picture Hummacher, sitting in his office, leaning back on his leather couch, drinking a beer, saying he’d been late getting here because he’d taken some girl—some chorus girl?—up there for... what? But Hummacher hadn’t been specific. He’d delivered the girl. He’d done her a favor. Took her someplace safe.
    The kind of place he’d choose for a meeting to sell out Adcock Explorations? What’d he do, sell out and keep going till he hit the ski slopes?
    Adcock didn’t need to read Grady Hummacher’s reports. By now he could just about recite the damn things. Could he do without Hummacher? If he had those boys, just maybe he could.
    And he wouldn’t be giving them a cut the size of Hummacher’s.
    Adcock reached for the phone. This Tchernak guy, he’d served his function. Why not cut him loose right now?
    Because he was out of phone contact. And maybe he’d be useful, big guy like that.
    Or maybe he’d get in the way.
    For once Adcock did hesitate, but only a moment. Then he dialed a friend up near the Naval Proving Grounds half an hour east of Gattozzi. He was calling Simkin at home, of course, a good five miles from the Grounds. The damned naval experiments were so secret, the President probably needed a pass, and the governor up there in Carson City probably thought the place was one of those national reserves the feds got cheap because no one wanted the land.
    “Hello?”
    “Hey, Simkin, Resty Adcock here. Listen, I’m flying up your way now. I need to use your landing strip, and I’m going to need a car.”
    Simkin didn’t answer.
    “I said—”
    “I don’t know, Resty. Car’s fine. But this close to the proving ground, I don’t like putting the strip lights on. They can lean on you hard if you get in their way.”
    “I’m not getting in their way. Just get the damned lights on in an hour.”

CHAPTER 29

    “Boy, that broad’s had one too many!” The assessment and accompanying laughter followed Kiernan as she ran for the saloon bathroom. Inside, two women stood talking. They looked to be women used to taking care of themselves on the harsh, lonely roads. The sink and mirror were beside them, but neither was paying them much mind.
    “First right, hon,” one said, pointing to the two stalls. Behind them the single small, high window was open only an inch. The pink paint on it was scratched and thick, and one glance told Kiernan she wasn’t going to shove it up eight inches. “How far is the drop from the window?”
    “Whew! Guy trouble?”
    “Believe it! The window—”
    The taller woman grinned. “Step aside.” As she pushed the window up, her companion turned over the garbage can to make a stair. “It’s a good ten-foot drop, but the landing’s soft. Be prepared to roll.”
    “You’re not from around here are you, hon?” the shorter woman asked.
    “Just passing through—fast.”
    “Word of warning, then. Don’t wander off the road. This area’s full of old mine holes. Some of them, the roof hasn’t caved in yet. No one knows how many people have gone up-country and never come back.”
    As tacit thanks, Kiernan stepped on the garbage can she didn’t need and slid her legs out the window. “If you could keep them out of here for a few minutes...”
    “Don’t worry, honey, you’re not the first to use ‘the emergency exit.’ ”
    Kiernan slid, hit the dirt with a soft thud, and rolled. She dusted herself as she ran for the