75

A battered Chevrolet pick-up is parked with its hood raised at one of the station’s four gasolene pumps. It looks far cleaner than any of the other auto wrecks that lie scattered around the town, and your suspicions are further aroused when you notice a large black pool of oil on the ground beneath the engine compartment. You stop your roadster alongside and step out to investigate it.

‘Hey, this oil’s still wet,’ you say to Kate, as you dab your index finger in the pool. You are wiping it clean on the leg of your jeans when you hear an unexpected reply. ‘Drop your weapons … or I’ll drop you!’

It is a man’s voice and it is coming from inside a derelict pay booth.

If you wish to obey the command, turn to 241.

If you decide to dive for cover, turn to 164.