"Stop!" a voice shouted from above. "There's no use hiding in that ravine. We'll get you! Come up and—"
The sound of voices was drowned out by the roar of the car's motor. A moment later they shot into the darkness, the car rising into the air. Treetops broke and cracked under them as Erick turned the car from side to side, avoiding the groping shafts of pale light from below, the last furious thrusts from the two Leiters and their soldiers.
Then they were away, above the trees, high in the air, gaining speed each moment, leaving the knot of Martians far behind.
"Toward Marsport," Jan said to Erick. "Right?"
Erick nodded. "Yes. We'll land outside the field, in the hills. We can change back to our regular clothing there, our commercial clothing. Damn it—we'll be lucky if we can get there in time for the ship."
"The last ship," Mara whispered, her chest rising and falling. "What if we don't get there in time?"
Erick looked down at the leather case in his lap. "We'll have to get there," he murmured. "We must!"
For a long time there was silence. Thacher stared at Erickson. The older man was leaning back in his chair, sipping a little of his drink. Mara and Jan were silent.
"So you didn't destroy the City," Thacher said. "You didn't destroy it at all. You shrank it down and put it in a glass globe, in a paperweight. And now you're salesmen again, with a sample case of office supplies!"