escape. They were observed leaving the scenein a late model, white-over-green Travelaire sedan, license unknown. Acar of the same make, model and color was stolen from Annapolis,Maryland, a short time prior to the holdup. The stolen vehicle, nowbelieved to be the getaway car, bears USN license number QABR dash 468dash 1113...."
"That's our baby," Ben murmured as he and Clay scribbled, on theirmessage forms.
"... Motor number ZB 1069432," Washington Criminal Control continued."This car is also now believed to have been involved in a hit-and-runfatal accident on NAT 26-West at Marker 92 at approximately 1648 hoursthis date.
"Subject Number One is described as WMA, twenty to twenty-five years,five feet, eleven inches tall, medium complexion, dark hair and eyes,wearing a dark-gray sports jacket and dark pants, and wearing a graysports cap. He was wearing a ring with a large red stone on his lefthand.
"Subject Number Two is described as WMA, twenty to twenty-five years,six feet, light, ruddy complexion and reddish brown hair, lightcolored eyes. Has scar on back left side of neck. Wearing light-brownsuit, green shirt and dark tie, no hat.
"These subjects are believed to be armed and psychotically dangerous.If observed, approach with extreme caution and inform nearest controlof contact. Both subjects now under multiple federal warrants chargingbank robbery, murder, and hit-and-run murder. All cars and stationsacknowledge. Washington Criminal Control out."
The air chattered as the cars checked into their nearest controls with"acknowledged."
"This looks like it could be a long night," Kelly said, rising to herfeet. "I'm going to sack out. Call me if you need me."
"Good night, princess," Ben called.
"Hey, Hiawatha," Clay called out as Kelly paused in the galley door."I didn't mean what I said about your steaks. Your great-great-greatgrandpop would have gone around with his bare scalp hanging out if hehad had to use a buffalo hide cured like that steak was cooked."
He reached back at the same instant and slammed the cabin door just asKelly came charging back. She slammed into the door, screamed and thenwent storming back to the dispensary while Clay doubled over inlaughter.
Ben smiled at his junior partner. "Boy, you're gonna regret that.Don't say I didn't warn you."
* * * * *
Martin turned control over to the younger trooper and relaxed in hisseat to go over the APB from Washington. Car 56 bored steadily throughthe night. The thruway climbed easily up the slight grade cut throughthe hills north of Wheeling, West Virginia, and once more snow beganfalling.
Clay reached over and flipped on the video scanners. Four smallscreens, one for each of the westbound lanes, glowed with a soft redlight. The monitors were synchronized with the radiometer and changedview at every ten-mile marker. Viewing cameras mounted on towersbetween each lane, lined the thruway, aimed eastward at the on-comingtraffic back to the next bank of cameras ten miles away. Infra-redcircuits took over from standard scan at dark. A selector system inthe cars gave the troopers the option of viewing either the block theywere currently patrolling; the one ahead of the next ten-mile block;or, the one they had just passed. As a rule, the selection was basedon the speed of the car. Beamed signals from each block automaticallyswitched the view as the patrol car went past the towers. Clay put theslower lane screens on the block they were in, turned the blue andyellow lanes to the block ahead.
They rolled past the interchange with NAT 114-South out of Cleveland andthe traffic densities picked up in all lanes as many of the southboundvehicles turned west on to NAT 26. The screens flicked and Clay came alert.Some fifteen miles ahead in the one-hundred-fifty-to-two-hundred-mile anhour blue lane, a glowing dot remained motionless in the middle of the laneand the other racing lights of the blue lane traffic were sheering aroundit like a racing river current parting around a boulder.
"Trouble," he said to Martin, as he shoved forward on the throttle.
A stalled car in the middle of the high-speed lane was an invitationto disaster. The bull horn blared as Beulah leaped past the twohundred mile an hour mark and safety cocoons slid into place. Aft inthe dispensary, Kelly was sealed into her bunk by a cocoon rolling outof the wall and encasing the hospital bed.
Car 5 slanted across the police lane with red lights flashing and edgedinto the traffic flow in the blue lane. The great, red winking lightsand the emergency radio siren signal began clearing a path for thetroopers. Vehicles began edging to both sides of the lane to shift tocrossovers to the yellow or green lanes. Clay aimed Beulah at themotionless dot on the screen and eased back from the four-mile-a-minutespeed. The patrol car slowed and the headlight picked up the stalledvehicle a mile ahead. The cocoons opened and Ben slipped on his workhelmet and dropped down the steps to the side hatch. Clay brought Beulahto a halt a dozen yards directly to the rear of the stalled car, thegreat bulk of the patrol vehicle with its warning lights serving as ashield against any possible fuzzy-headed speeders that might not beobserving the road.
As Martin reached for the door, the Wanted bulletin flashed throughhis head. "What make of car is that, Clay?"
"Old jalopy Tritan with some souped-up rigs. Probably kids," thejunior officer replied. "It looks O.K."
Ben nodded and swung down out of the patrol car. He walked quickly tothe other car, flashing his handlight on the side of the vehicle as hewent up to the driver. The interior lights were on and inside, twoobviously frightened young couples smiled with relief at the sight ofthe uniform coveralls. A freckled-faced teenager in a dinner jacketwas in the driver's seat and had the blister window open. He grinnedup at Martin. "Boy, am I glad to see you, officer," he said.
"What's the problem?" Ben asked.
"I guess she blew an impeller," the youth answered. "We were headingfor a school dance at Cincinnati and she was boiling along like shewas in orbit when blooey she just quit."
Ben surveyed the old jet sedan. "What year is this clunker?" he asked.The kid told him. "You kids have been told not to use this lane forany vehicle that old." He waved his hand in protest as the youngsterstarted to tell him how many modifications he had made on the car. "Itdoesn't make one bit of difference whether you've put a first-stageMoon booster on this wreck. It's not supposed to be in the blue oryellow. And this thing probably shouldn't have been allowed out of thewhite--or even on the thruway."
The youngster flushed and bit his lip in embarrassment at the gigglesfrom the two evening-frocked girls in the car.
"Well, let's get you out of here." Ben touched his throat mike. "Dropa light, Clay and then let's haul this junk pile away."
In the patrol car, Ferguson reached down beside his seat and tugged ata lever. From a recess in Beulah's stern, a big portable red warninglight dropped to the pavement. As it touched the surface, itautomatically flashed to life, sending out a bright, flashing redwarning signal into the face of any approaching traffic. Clay easedthe patrol car around the stalled vehicle and then backed slow intoposition, guided by Martin's radioed instructions. A tow-bar extrudedfrom the back of the police vehicle and a magnaclamp locked onto thefront end of the teenager's car. The older officer walked back to theportable warning light and rolled it on its four wheels to the rearplate of the jalopy where another magnalock secured it to the car.Beulah's two big rear warning lights still shone above the lowsilhouette of the passenger car, along with the mobile lamp on thejalopy. Martin walked back to the patrol car and climbed in.
He slid into his seat and nodded at Clay. The patrol car, with thedisabled vehicle in tow moved forward and slanted left towards thepolice lane. Martin noted the mileage marker on the radiodometer andfingered the transmitter. "Chillicothe Control this is Car 56."
"This Chillicothe. Go ahead Five Six."
"We picked up some kids in a stalled heap on the blue at Marker 382and we've got them in tow now," Ben said. "Have a wrecker meet us andtake them off our hands."
"Affirmative, Five Six. Wrecker will pick you up at Marker 412."
* * * * *
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Clay headed the patrol car and its trailed load into an emergencyentrance to the middle police lane and slowly rolled westward. Thesenior trooper reached into his records rack and pulled out a citationbook.
"You going to nail these kids?" Clay asked.
"You're damn right I am," Martin replied, beginning to fill in theviolation report. "I'd rather have this kid hurting in the pocketbookthan dead. If we turn him loose, he'll think he got away with it thistime and try it again. The next time he might not be so lucky."
"I suppose you're right," Clay said, "but it does seem a littlerough."
Ben swung around in his seat and surveyed his junior