VAL GOLD HAD been wearing his Kevlar-lined leather jacket at Panamint Springs when Andy shot him. Val was taking no chances. He did not trust Vivienne. Val did not see that his mistrust of Vivienne came through to her, and since she did not have his confidence, she mistrusted him as a result. When the bullet came, it tore the leather but not the lining. He watched Vivienne drive away with Andy. He went into room 15 and slept in the sheets where she had played with her new man. Her musk was embedded in the pillow slips. He woke in pale light the next afternoon, near sundown. Val knew it was time: he went out to the highway, waiting to go wherever the first car was going. It was going east. A grey-blue low-cut Austin-Healey, early days of Vietnam vintage, 1963, Val was guessing. The guy was
