eye.

Red turned the steering wheel and drew off onto the Road's shoulder. Again, the sky began to pulse, dark and light, darker and lighter. When the vehicle came to a complete halt, a morning sun hovered just above the horizon to his right, the grasses were pale with frost, birds were singing. The shining vehicle pulled off ahead of him. Both its doors opened and two gray-tunicked officers descended and moved in his direction. He turned off the ignition and sat perfectly still. He exhaled a large cloud of smoke.

The driver of the other vehicle came up beside his door. His companion moved toward the rear of the truck. The first man looked in. He smiled faintly.

"I'll be damned!" he said. "Hi, Tony."

"Didn't know it was you. Red. Hope you're not up to anything too gross." Red shrugged.

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that."

"Tony," came a voice from the rear. "You'd better take a look at this."

"Uh ... I'll have to ask you to step down. Red." "Sure."

He opened the door and climbed out. "What is it?" Tony asked, moving back. "Look."

He had undone a corner of the tarp and raised it. He now proceeded to unfasten it further.

"I recognize those! They're C Twenty rifles, called M-1s."

"Yeah, I know. See what's back here? Browning Automatic Rifles. And this is a case of hand grenades. Lots of ammo, too."

Tony sighed, turned.

"Don't tell me. Let me guess," he said. "I know right where you are going. You still believe the Greeks should win the Battle of Marathon and you want to give them a hand."

Red grimaced.

"What makes you guess that?"

"You've been caught at it twice before."

"And you just pulled me over—part of a random sampling?" "That's right."

"You trying to say that no one tipped you off?" The officer hesitated and glanced away. "That's right" Red grinned around the cigar.