To baggage claim they went. Because they were flying in from Hawaii, there was an agricultural checkpoint to deal with first. “Steve and I just walked through the Honolulu airport,” Jerry told the inspector. “That’s it.”

“Where were you coming from, then?” the woman said.

“Midway. We’re off the Hughes Glomar Explorer, the ocean-mining ship.”

The woman looked dubious. But an older man who was examining a couple of other Hawaiian Air passengers overheard and said, “Pass him through, Grace. I dealt with somebody off that ship three days ago. They’re legit.”

“Okay.” By the way Grace said it, she didn’t think it was. She let them go on to baggage claim anyhow. That was all Jerry cared about.

Steve’s bag came out right away. He and Beth said their good-byes and headed off to wherever she’d parked her car. Jerry and Anna stood there and waited. Time seemed to crawl on its stomach. “Just when you thought things couldn’t get any better,” Jerry said.

“I was gonna be death warmed over today. Now I’ll just be death,” Anna replied.

More and more passengers grabbed their suitcases and left. Jerry was starting to wonder whether he’d have to beard the Hawaiian Airlines baggage people in their den (and where their den was) when his suitcase came forth at last. He gratefully grabbed it, stuck the Heinlein inside, and straightened up again. “Let’s get out of here.”

Anna led him to her car. It was a yellow Toyota, small enough to make his Rambler seem like a Lincoln alongside it. He stashed the suitcase and the hydrophone inside the trunk, slammed it shut, and kissed her again.

She kissed him back … for about ten seconds. Then she pulled away. “Jerry, I love you, but I’m punch-drunk. And I have to get up at six fifteen, which feels like ten minutes from now. Save it for later, okay?”

This is a test. If you keep doing what you’re doing, you flunk. “Okay,” Jerry said, and managed not to sound too grumpy. That he was out on his feet himself didn’t hurt. He’d also seen Anna play the same kind of game before. Recognizing it helped him handle it.

When he got into the car, he pushed the passenger seat all the way back. That gave him enough legroom. Even though the Toyota didn’t seem much bigger than a tennis shoe, it had more headroom than some standard-sized American machines.

The parking attendant was dozing in his booth, but woke up when Anna’s headlights hit him. She paid him. The bar swung up. She drove out and headed east on Century.

Not much traffic at the airport: two in the morning was ebb tide. There was even less as they moved away. Jerry approved; this wasn’t a great part of town. Hawthorne, where he and Anna had their apartments, was better, but not a whole lot.