168
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168
+ 110%
NICE CARTER:
then waved to a bellboy as Hood went up in the
rickety old elevator.
I found a telephone booth, dialed the nearest
AXE contact point, gave my emergency priority
code, and ordered a car. AXE moves mountains. The
car arrived in five minutes—an elegant and powerful
Bentley. I was in it and waiting when Jeb Hood
came out and got into the small Triumph the bell-
boy had parked.
Hood wasn't wearing his Stetson now—not even his
cowboy boots. In a dark business suit, and a normal
tie, he looked like a different man—and maybe a dan-
gerous one. He drove off through the evening streets
and ten minutes later we were on the main trunk
road northeast toward East Anglia and the sea.
For a long time I stayed as far back as possible,
letting other cars cut in between us from time to
time, then passing again and pulling up close
enough to be sure of Hood and the Triumph.
where between Colchester and Ipswich I passed
*him, remained ahead through Ipswich, and then let
him pass me again.
Every mile took me farther from London and Sy-
bil Readin