Run into Trouble by Alan Cook Page A

don’t account for. They think they can run
as fast on sand as pavement.”
    “I was in the race when you won Boston,”
Drake said to Tom. “I was a few hills behind you, however.”
    “So was everybody else.” Jerry grinned at
his teammate. “He blew them away.”
    “Jerry ran under two-thirty in that race,”
Tom said.
    They were clearly the team to beat. They
reached the small restaurant and were seated immediately at a
square table for four with a red and white checked plastic
tablecloth. It was noisy and friendly. Drake ordered a bottle of
beer. Melody had iced tea. Tom and Jerry split a carafe of red
wine. Each team had been issued two credit cards for food and
incidental expenses.
    “How did you two become teammates in this
race?” Melody asked.
    Tom looked surprised. “I was invited to
enter and pick my partner. Jerry and I train together in Redding,
so it was a natural. What about you?”
    Evasion time. Drake signaled Melody with his
eyes. “We didn’t pick each other. Giganticorp picked for us. I
guess that’s why we’re in last place.”
    Tom looked from one of them to the other.
“Didn’t you know each other before?”
    How much had Fred let slip? “Only casually.
We’d run into each other a few times.”
    Jerry laughed. “Run into each other. That’s
good. So the beanstalk boys picked you. We call Fred and Peaches
and the others the beanstalk boys. Giganticorp—giant—‘Jack and the
Beanstalk.’ Get it? You two must have been chosen to add color. A
girl and a war hero.”
    “I’m not a war hero.”
    “We were chosen because we make a good
team.” Melody had the look in her eye that Drake knew meant that
you better not underestimate her. “If Drake hadn’t been hurt, we’d
be doing much better.”
    “I don’t doubt it,” Tom said. “I’ve watched
you run. You’re the best female runner I’ve seen. And I’ve seen the
women who’ve run Boston since they started letting them in.”
    Melody picked up male admirers wherever she
went. It was obvious that Tom was among that number. Also that she
was susceptible to his flattery. Something stirred inside Drake. He
tried to squelch it. He’d had his chance and blown it.
    Tom looked at Drake. “If you were in top
shape I’d be watching over my shoulder for you two.”
    “Thanks. Maybe you’ll still have to.”
    ***
    Drake closed the door of the phone booth
located at an intersection in downtown Oceanside, not far from
their motel. He had walked back to the motel with the others. After
they had said goodnight to Tom and Jerry, he had told Melody what
he was going to do.
    He had decided against making the call from
the motel room. Years of covert operations had taught him that if
you didn’t want other people to find out what you were doing, you
shouldn’t leave a trail, however faint. With the phone booth door
closed, nobody would hear him, especially with the traffic noise.
He kept his hand over his mouth on the off chance that somebody
might be watching through a pair of binoculars and trying to read
his lips.
    He lifted the black receiver and dialed
zero.
    “Operator.”
    “I’d like to make a collect call to…” Drake
gave the long distance number to the operator. When she asked for
his name, he said, “Drake.”
    He heard various noises while the operator
put through the call and then the sound of a ringing telephone. He
hoped Blade would be home.
    After half a dozen rings the operator said,
“Nobody is answering.”
    “Let it ring a few more times.”
    After about the eighth ring Drake heard the
sound of the phone being answered with a brusque hello.
    “I have a collect call from a Mr. Drake.
Will you accept the charge?”
    “Drake? Who does that bastard think he
is?”
    “Will you accept the charge, sir?”
    “All right, all right, put him on.”
    “Go ahead, Mr. Drake.”
    “You took long enough to answer the
phone.”
    “What do you mean by calling me
collect?”
    “Relax. I’ll pay for it. I’m calling