were light with accomplishment as he
thought, "In four more days, they'll all be gone."

* * *

While the Fullerton radar net smoked innumerable cigarettes and cursed
luck ruining the evening, Solomon scrambled two eggs, enjoyed his coffee
and relaxed with a newly found set of old 1954 Buick shop manuals. As
usual, when the clock neared ten, he closed his manuals and let himself
out the back door.

City lights, reflected in low clouds, brightened the way Solomon knew
well. He was soon kneeling behind the Ford wagon without having stumbled
once. Only two kitchen matches were needed to collect the cords from a
big Packard, handsome in the warmth of a moonless summer night. With a
faint "God Bless You," Solomon pulled the shingles and watched its
massive hulk rise and disappear into orbit with his other orphans.

If you'd been able to see it all, you'd have worried. The full circle of
radar and communications crews around Fullerton had acted as though the
whole town were going to pussyfoot away at sundown. _Nine_ was hidden in
a curious farmer's orange grove. _Seven_ was tucked between station
wagons in the back row of a used car lot. _Four_ was assigned the
loading dock of a meat-packing plant, but the night watchman wouldn't
allow them to stay. They moved across the street behind a fire station.
_Three_ was too big to hide, so it opened for business inside the
National Guard Armory.

They all caught the Packard's takeoff. Degree lines from the four
stations around Fullerton were crossed on the map long before Solomon
reached his back door. By the time bedroom lights were out and covers
under his bristly chin, a task force of quiet men was speeding on its
way to surround four blocks of country land; including a chicken ranch,
Solomon's junk yard and a small frame house. Dogs stirred, yapping at
sudden activity they alone knew of, then nose to tail, returned to sleep
when threats of intrusion failed to materialize.

The sun was barely up when the chicken farmer was stopped a block from
his house, Highway patrolmen slowly inspected his truck from front to
back, while three cars full of civilians, by the side of the road,
watched every move. Finding nothing unusual, a patrolman reported to the
first civilian car then returned to wave the farmer on his way. When the
widow teacher from the frame house, started for school, she too, was
stopped. After a cursory inspection the patrolman passed her on. Two