He opened his eyes and stared at the car. He could see only the faintest outlines of the driver’s head and shoulders. Then it hit him. He had seen the car parked in the lot at the motel Stratton had taken him to. Stratton had had him shadowed.

It made sense, Seth thought. He would have done the same thing had he been in Stratton’s place. It was faintly comforting to know the surveillance was there for now. It might come in handy if he had unexpected visitors. But, he realized, he had to get rid of them for a couple of hours while he retrieved the painting. And he had to lose them without appearing to do so on purpose. He didn’t want to make Stratton so suspicious that he would pull him in and question him thoroughly—an act Seth knew would mean drug-assisted interrogation. He was safe from that and would retain his freedom as long as Stratton believed Seth didn’t know the location of the painting.

It was easy enough to lose a tail, to disappear. But most of the ways he had used before as a cop all looked suspicious. He had to lose the tail naturally. That left out wild auto chases and last-minute dashes into elevators. Seth stared into space for several long moments. He thought of slipping away from a basketball game at the Forum. According to the car radio the Lakers were playing somebody tonight. No, too uncertain, and his absence would be easy to notice. Movie theaters and concerts all had the same problems.

He sat on the foot of the bed and stared aimlessly around the room. He rejected staging some sort of emergency blackout at a department store so he could slip out with the crowds in the dark as too complicated. It had to be in character. He began listing places he normally went, and places he could be expected to go in his current circumstances.

He sat nearly motionless for the greater part of an hour before a broad smile finally spread across his face.

The University Research Library at UCLA is a massive seven-story monolith at the northern end of the campus. It was jammed with students when Seth Ridgeway arrived. The students, some of whom recognized and greeted him, scurried purposefully among the brightly lit book stacks.

Holding his briefcase in his left hand, Seth stepped, off the elevator at the fifth level. The briefcase was heavy with tools, and he paused to swap it to his right hand. He walked over to the plan of the fifth floor and studied it earnestly. He looked at the catalog numbers he had scratched on a yellow pad, then back at the plan again.

Soon, he heard the whirring sounds of the other elevator approaching. It stopped at the fifth floor. Seth still pretended interest in the floor plan as he furtively watched the elevator doors part and disgorge the man from the light Toyota.

He was a tall, thin man in his mid-twenties, well over six feet, with muddy blond hair. He wore thick eyeglasses that magnified his eyes and gave him a surprised expression. He was dressed casually in morning shoes, jeans, and a windbreaker over a crew-neck sweater. They all looked newly purchased for the occasion.