It was 11 AM the following day when the cops decided to check out the warehouse. A barbary ape named Eeley had given them the tip, and it seemed like a possibility. It was one of a number of nondescript buildings in the neighborhood, and they would be checking all of them...process of elimination. Two plainclothes officers, Jamieson and Weatherup were on the scene. They had a word or two with Eeley first, after he bummed a smoke off Weatherup.

"You seen anything?" asked Jamieson, lighting up Eeley's cigarette.

"Not much. All I seen was this. A truck made a delivery there this morning. One small package in brown paper."

"What kind of truck?"

"Well, just a plain Ford truck with a box, y'know. No markings."

"Get the plate number?"

"Nope."

"Christ! Big help you are," swore Weatherup. "What about the driver?"

Eeley glared at Weatherup truculently. He didn't like cops much. "Yeah, I seen the driver."

"Well? What the hell did this driver look like."

Eeley took a long drag. He was enjoying this. He scratched the back of his neck and sighed, as if dredging up the memories. Weatherup was going slowly nuts, and Jamieson was looking not too amused either.

"It was a young guy," said Eeley. "Slender built, in a green uniform with a peaked cap. Looked maybe 18 to me. I didn't see no identifyin' marks on the uniform. dark hair, short, straight. Pale skin. small hands. He took the package to the back door and handed it to someone that I couldn't see, cos the truck was right against the building. They gave him a piece of paper. He went back in the truck and sat around for about 5 minutes, readin' the paper, and havin' a drink of coffee, I guess...or hot chocolate or somethin'. Kept the motor runnin'. It was real cold this morning. So...after about 5 minutes he puts her in gear and drives forward, goes back and shuts the doors, then gets back in the cab and drives off."

Jamieson was noting it all down carefully. "Doesn't sound like our suspects," he said, but let's check it out. "You sure you didn't get the license plate? Can you remember part of it."

"Wait..." said Eeley, "wa-ai-ai-ait...it's comin' back now..."

The officers leaned forward expectantly.

"I got it," said Eeley. "It was one o' them special plates...all letters. It started with F...yeah...that's it...F and N...and then a space...and then C-O-P-S."

"FN COPS" repeated Jamieson, carefully writing it down. He looked up sharply. Eeley had a tiny smirk lurking at the corners of his mouth, showing his canines a bit.

"Why you LOUSY..." snarled Weatherup, drawing back his fist. At that moment the building blew up with a blinding flash that knocked all three of them off their feet and broke every window on the block. It seemed to Jamieson that it was all happening in slow motion. He saw the flash, and had a moment's glimpse of the walls bursting out in all directions like a huge balloon. Better than the movies, he thought. Then he realized he was flying through the air. For a moment the whole world turned upside down and something hit him very hard. He was knocked breathless, and just lay there for a bit. Everything had gone amazingly silent. He tried rolling over, eventually managed it, and staggered slowly to his feet. Eeley was extricating himself out of a garbage can into which he had apparently been driven headfirst. Weatherup was staggering around like a crazy man, waving his gun and yelling silently. Yelling who knows what. Then Weatherup started blowing his whistle. Strangely enough it made no sound at all. Jamieson turned to look at where the building had been and saw an inferno raging there in what wasn't much more than a crater surrounded by debris.

"Jesus," he said. This must be the place after all. At least it was the place.

"I can't hear anything," he said to Weatherup. "Can you?"

Weatherup moved his lips, but it was anyone's guess what he was saying. Eeley was jumping up and down, apparently screaming like primates do when they're excited. He took off up the wall of the nearest intact building and joined several other primates on the roof. They were all gesticulating wildly, focused on the fire.

Jamieson made his way awkwardly to a pay phone, wondering how he would now when it rang at the other end. He attempted to call in to headquarters and report. When he turned around he was surprised to see two fire engines already on the scene, fighting the blaze.

Jamieson sat down on the pavement. He suddenly felt very tired.

* * * * *

Far to the north Ursula drove, moving up Highway 45 at a steady, but legal speed. Otto slid back the little window behind her and looked through. "How far have we gone?"

"Clintonville," she said. "About halfway to Rockland. We're to the west of Green Bay right now."

"Good. I'm sick of being crowded in back here and the seating is atrocious."

"It's better than the accomodations on a U-boat," she said, unsympathetically. "Brace up. Nobody gets out till we reach the cabin. Then we can build a fire, Martin can cook us a nice meal, and all will be well. How do you like the uniform?"

"It makes you look like a young man," said Otto, "Unless one looks very close. I've seen better, but it will do."

- LH