"It's those filthy twins," she said. "Even their car looks subversive."
Marc turned his attention again to the mirror. "They may be with the government," he said. "They've probably been assigned to watch us." He shrugged a dismissal. "Anyway, they're the least of my worries."
He released the brake and started forward again on the light. He did not mention the greatest and most immediate of his worries; an overwhelming attack of weariness had come over him in the last few minutes and it was alarmingly reminiscent of the one he'd suffered yesterday just before he'd begun to float. If he was about to become buoyant again he wanted desperately to reach home and Julie before it happened. He narrowed his eyes on the blur of the traffic ahead and tightened his grip on the wheel. He knew as he did it, however, that he was never going to make it.
Marc managed the next block without incident, and the next, but in the middle of the third, he swung the car sharply to the curb and brought it to a quick stop. In the next instant, just as he switched off the ignition, his head slumped heavily to the steering wheel. It happened so suddenly that he didn't notice the irony of his location; he had parked almost exactly in front of the Wynant. Neither did he see the black sedan pull up behind.
Toffee swung quickly toward him and gripped his shoulder. "Marc!" she called, shaking him. "What's wrong?"
There was a moment of tense silence and then, just as before, Marc revived as quickly as he had succumbed. He lifted his head from the wheel, and looked dazedly around.
"What happened?" he asked.
But Toffee was not concerned with the events of the past. "Oh, golly!" she wailed. "Look! There you go again!"
Marc glanced quickly down at the seat and suffered a thrill of horror. Toffee had spoken the truth; indeed, he was going again with all anchors cast off. He had already risen, still in a sitting position, to such a height that his knees were resting snugly against the steering wheel.
"Grab me!" he yelled. "Pull me down!"