I slid out from my place of concealment, kept close to the shadows and sprinted forward along the cars.
I could hear the motor on their automobile purring away with a sound that was smoothly reassuring.
From behind me. I heard the man say, “Well, let’s start looking under the cars. He isn’t on top.”
“He has to be around here somewhere,” the woman said angrily. “He couldn’t have climbed one of the fences, and... Hey, there he is!”
The man yelled, then both of them started to run.
I jumped in the other car, slammed the car door shut, snapped the car in gear, and started moving.
I’d gone almost fifty yards before I saw a series of luminous pin-pricks in the darkness behind me. Then suddenly the window in the rear radiated into myriad cracks and the rear-view mirror didn’t do me any good.
I slowed down when I first hit the crossroad, turned to the left, then turned to the right on the next crossroad. I wound up in a residential district and located a tram before I abandoned the car. Then I took the precaution of looking at the licence number and the registration certificate which was attached to the steering column.
The car was registered in the name of Samuel Lowry and the address of the certificate of registration was 968 Rippling Avenue.
I flagged the tram and rode on it until I saw a taxi standing by the kerb. I got off the car and picked up the taxi. I gave the taxi driver the number of 1810 Mono Drive.