“I don’t know what time it’s supposed to be,” he answered, realizing not mentioning how hard he’d crashed had to be the smart play. “Tim’s gonna take me down to Long Beach tomorrow morning, so I’ll have my wheels back. See you tomorrow night?”

“Sure,” she said, and then, “Good for you. If you’d wanted me to come over there tonight, I would’ve hit you with something as soon as I walked in. A brick, probably.”

“I kinda figured that.” Jerry’d had enough sleep that he remembered how long it had been since he’d lain down with Anna. After so long, he told himself, one more day wouldn’t make that much difference. A particular part of himself didn’t want to listen. Even so, he said, “We’ll both rest up tonight as much as we can. I’ll call you tomorrow when I’m back with the car.”

“Okay. Cut that out!” she said. Jerry realized the sharp cry was probably aimed at the King of Siam, not at him. Sure enough, Anna muttered, “Stupid cat. Listen, I’m gonna go. Pretty soon I’ll collapse, that’s all.”

“Love you, hon.”

“Love you, too. ’Bye.”

Left to his own devices, Jerry watched the Angels finish hammering the Milwaukee Brewers. They were still as lousy as they had been when he sailed on the Glomar Explorer. With Nolan Ryan pitching, though, they were … better, anyhow.

After the game ended, he carefully took the two photos he’d lifted out of their hiding place. He peeled the tape off them. Would anyone who hadn’t been there believe they were what they purported to be? He hardly believed it himself, and he’d watched it happen. But they might make people ask interesting questions, anyhow.

Or nobody might ever see them again. You just never knew.

Jerry was standing on the sidewalk in front of his building when Tim pulled up. He’d gone out at ten to ten; he’d known his friend would be five minutes early, and he was. Jerry slid into the car. They shook hands. Tim Ishihara was no more than five eight, and on the chunky side: he and tall, lanky Jerry made an odd pair, but they’d been tight for years and years.

Before Tim drove off, he pointed to the taped-up manila envelope Jerry’d set on the floorboards between his feet. “What you got there?”

“Some stuff. There were … hassles on the ship. Can you hang on to this for me, put it in the safest place you can think of? Don’t look at it or anything—believe me, you don’t want to know. Don’t tell anybody about it, either. I mean anybody. Give it back to me if I ask for it. Otherwise, just hold it.”