Strangers

Leland's perfidy until it was too late. He needed only an hour to scoop up the witnesses at the motel and convey them into the deep vaults of Thunder Hill.
        To Bidakian, Leland said, "Sergeant, make sure all the motorists have sufficient gasoline, and if any of them are running on low tanks, pump them ten gallons from that emergency supply you've brought."
        "Yes, sir. That was my understanding, sir."
        "No sign of any cops or snow plows?"
        "Not yet, sir," Bidakian said, glancing beyond the short line of cars, where two new pairs of headlights appeared in the distant snow-swaddled dusk. "But we'll see one or the other within ten minutes."
        "You know the story to give them?"
        "Yes, sir. Truck bound for Shenkfield sprung a small leak. It's carrying harmless and toxic fluids, so we don't-"
        "Colonel!" Lieutenant Horner was hurrying from the Wagoneer. He was wearing so many bulky clothes he looked half-again as large as usual. "Message from Sergeant Fixx at Shenkfield, sir. Something's wrong at the motel. He hasn't heard a voice in fifteen minutes. Just a radio, playing real loud. He doesn't think anyone's there."
        "They go back into the damn diner?"
        "No, sir. Fixx thinks they're just - gone, sir."
        "Gone? Gone where?" Leland demanded, neither expecting an answer nor waiting for one. Heart pounding, he ran back to the Wagoneer.
        

        
        Her name was Talia Ervy, and she looked like Marie Dressler, who'd played Tugboat Annie in those wonderful old movies with Wallace Beery. Talia was even larger than Dressler, who'd been far from petite: big bones, broad face, wide mouth, strong chin. But she was the prettiest woman Parker Faine had seen in days, for she not only offered him and Father Wycazik a ride from the airport to the Tranquility, but refused to take any money for it. "Hell, I don't mind," she said, sounding a little like Marie Dressler, too. "I wasn't going anywheres much special anyway. Just home to cook dinner for myself. I'm a flat-out horrible cook, so this'll just put off the punishment for a bit. Fact is, when I think of my meatloaf, I figure maybe you're doing me a big favor."
        Talia had a ten-year-old Cadillac, a big boat of a car, with winter-tread tires and snow chains. She claimed it would take her anywhere she wanted to go, regardless of the weather, and she called it "Old Paint." Parker sat up front with her, and Father Wycazik sat in back.
        They had gone less than a mile when they heard the emergency radio bulletin about the purported toxic spill and the closure of I-80 west of Elko. "Those muddle-headed, fumble-fingered damn goofballs!" Talia said, turning the volume louder but raising her voice to talk over it. "Dangerous stuff like that, you'd think they'd treat it like a load of babies in glass cradles, but this here's twice in two years."
        Neither Parker nor Father Wycazik was capable of commenting. They both knew that their worst fears for their friends were now coming true.
        Talia Ervy said, "Well, gentlemen, what do we do now?"
        Parker said, "Is there anyplace that rents cars? Four-wheeldrive is what we'll need. A Jeep, something like that."
        "There's a Jeep dealer," Talia said.
        "Can you take us there?" Parker asked.
        "Me and Old Paint can take you anywheres, even if it starts putting down snowflakes big as dogs."
        The salesman at the Jeep dealership, Felix Schellenhof, was far less colorful than Talia Ervy. Schellenhof wore a gray suit, gray tie, and pale-gray shirt, and spoke in a gray voice. No, he told Parker, they didn't rent vehicles by the day. Yes, they had many for sale. No, they couldn't complete a deal in just twenty minutes. The salesman said if Parker intended to finance, that would take until tomorrow. Even a check would not clinch the deal quickly because Parker was from out of state. "No checks," Parker said. Schellenhof raised gray eyebrows at the prospect of cash. Parker said, "I'll put it on my American Express Gold Card," and Schellenhof looked grayly amused. They took American Express, he said, but in payment for accessories, repairs; no one had ever bought an entire vehicle with plastic. Parker said, "There's no purchase limit on the card. Listen, I was in Paris, saw a gorgeous Dali oil in a gallery, thirty thousand bucks, and they took my American Express!" With deliberate, plodding diplomacy,