Kells stood up slowly, squeezed out of the booth and limped back to the kitchen door. He stood in the doorway and said: “You can put that phone down and bring out our ham and eggs now.”
He continued to stand in the doorway until Jake came out past him with four orders of ham and eggs on a big tray. Jake’s nose and forehead were shiny with sweat. He put the tray on the table and stood wiping his hands on his apron.
The driver turned and went back and sat down on the table. He was very pale and there was a weak smile on his face. He picked up his drink.
Borg gestured with his head and Jake went over and sat down in the booth with the driver. Kells went into the kitchen.
Granquist’s eyes were hard, opaque. She took one of the plates of ham and eggs off the tray, sat staring down at it.
Kells’ voice came from the kitchen: “Madison two four five six... Hello — Chronicle?... City desk, please... Hello — is Shep Beery there?...” Then he lowered his voice and they could not hear. He called another indistinguishable number, talked a long time in a low voice.
Granquist ate mechanically. Borg finished his drink, got up and handed the driver’s plate across to him. The driver sat down beside Jake, sliced the fried ham into thin strips.
After a while Kells came in and sat down. He pushed his plate away, poured whiskey into the glasses on the table. He said quietly: “They’ve picked up Shep.”
No one said anything. Granquist tipped her glass and Borg stared expressionlessly at Kells.
“And they’ve been tipped to our reservations on the Chief tomorrow night — they’re watching all trains, all roads — they’ll ride that train to Albuquerque.” Kells drank. He looked at Granquist, then slowly turned his head and looked at Borg. “And they’ve tied us up with Abner here — or his bus.” He moved his head slightly toward the cab driver.