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professed to be shocked when informed by news reporters of the use to

which some of her money had been put. Paradoxically, though, she seemed

to enjoy the attention Georgos now brought her, perhaps because she was

living in obscurity, in a grubby apartment outside Athens and drinking

heavily. She had also been ill, though she would not discuss the nature

of her ailment.

When Georgos' activities were described to her in detail, she responded,

"That is not a son, it is an evil animal."

However when asked by a woman reporter if she did not believe her own

neglect of Georgos had been largely responsible for what he had become,

the ex-actress spat in the questioner's face.

In Manhattan, the aging-playboy father of Georgos dodged the press for

several days. Then, when discovered by a reporter in a Fifty-ninth Street

bar, he at first denied any involvement with the Greek movie star,

including having sired her child. Finally, when documentary proof of his

fatherhood was shown to him, he shrugged and delivered the statement: "My

advice to the cops is to shoot the bastard on sight-to kill."

Georgos, in due course, read both comments by his parents. Neither

surprised him, but they intensified his hatred of almost everything.

364

So now, in the final week of April, Georgos concluded that the time was

near for action. On the one hand, he reasoned, he could not hope to

remain in hiding, undetected, much longer-only two nights ago, when

shopping for food at a small supermarket, he caught sight of another

customer, a man, looking at him with what seemed more than casual

curiosity; Georgos left the place hastily. On the other hand, the initial

impact of all the publicity, and circulation of his photograph, should

have moderated by now, at least a little.

The plan which Georgos had worked out was to blow up the huge cooling

water pumps at the La Mission generating plant, the same plant

where-nearly a year ago, and disguised as a Salvation Army officer-he

placed a bomb which damaged the generator the newspapers called Big Lil.

He bad learned about those pumps while studying textbooks on power

generation to determine where GSP & L would be most vulnerable; be also

visited the Engineering School of the University of California at

Berkeley, where technical drawings of La Mission, and other plants, were

available for anyone to inspect.

Georgos knew-again being realistic-tbat there wasn't a chance of getting

inside the main building at La Mission, as he bad succeeded in doing

before. It was now too well guarded.

But with resourcefulness, and some luck, he could get to the pump house.

The eleven massive, powerful pumps there were essential to the operation

of five generating units, including Big Lil. In destroying them he would

knock out the entire generating station for months.

It would be like severing a lifeline.

The best approach was from the Coyote River. La Mission was built

directly on the riverbank, enabling the plant to draw water for cooling

and return it to the river afterward. Getting to the river side of the

plant was where the rubber dinghy would come in. After that, Georgos

would make use of the scuba diving gear, at which be was expert, baving

learned underwater demolition during his revolutionary training in Cuba.

Georgos had studied maps and knew he could drive to within a half mile

of La Mission and launch the dinghy at a deserted spot. From there the

current would help him get downstream. Getting back to the van, and

escaping, would be more of a problem, but that aspect he deliberately

ignored.

He would enter the pump house underwater, through a metal grating and two

wire mesh screens in which he would cut holes; the tools to do it were

stored with his underwater equipment. Tbe cylindrical Tovex bombs would

be strapped to his waist. Once inside, he would place the bombs, which

were in magnetic casings, simply and quickly on the pumps. It was a

beautiful scbeme!-as it had seemed right from the beginning.

The only remaining question was-when? Today was Friday.

365

Weighing everything, Gcorgos decided on the following Tuesday. He would

leave North Castle as soon as it was dark, drive the Volkswagen van the

fifty-odd miles to La Mission, then, on arrival, launch the dinghy

immediately.

Now, the decision taken, he was restless. The apartment-small, dreary,

sparsely furnished-was confining, especially during the daytime, though

Georgos knew it would be foolish to take chances and go out. In fact, he

intended to remain in the apartment until Sunday night, when the purchase

of more food would become essential.

He missed the mental exercise of writing in his journal. A few days ago

he considered starting a new one, now that the original was lostcaptured

by the enemy. But somehow he could summon up neither the energy nor the

enthusiasm to begin writing again.

Once more, as he bad done so many times already, he roamed the

apartment's three cramped rooms-a living room, bedroom, and

kitchen-dining area.

On the kitchen counter top an envelope caught his eye. It contained a

so-called Consumer Survey which had come in the mail to the apartment

several weeks ago from-all of sources-Golden State Piss & Lickspittle.

It bad been addressed to one Owen Grainger, which was not surprising

because that was the name under which Georgos rented the apartment and

paid three months rent in advance to avoid questions about credit.

(Georgos always paid rent and other bills immediately, by mailing cash.

Paying bills promptly was a standard part of terro~ist technique when

seeking to be inconspicuous. Unpaid bills brought unwelcome inquiries and

attention.)

One of the items on that stinking Consumer Survey had made Georgos so

angry on first reading it that he threw a cup he happened to be holding

against the nearest wall and shattered it. The item read:

Golden State Power & Light apologizes to its customers for in-

conveniences as a result of cowardly attacks on company installations

by small-time, would-be terrorists who act in ignorance. If there are

ways in which you think such attacks could be ended, please give us

your views.

Then and there Georgos bad sat down and written a forceful, scathing

reply which began: "The terrorists you presumptuously describe as

small-time, cowardly and ignorant are none of those things. They are

important, wise and dedicated heroes. You are the ignoramuses, as well

as criminal exploiters of the people. justice shall overtake you! Be

warned there will be blood and death, not mere 'inconvenience' when the

glorious revolution . . ."

He had quickly run out of space and used an extra sheet of paper to

complete a truly splendid response.

366

A pity not to have mailed it! He had been on the point of doing so on one

of his night excursions when caution warned: Don't! It might be a trap.

So he had let the completed questionnaire remain where it was, on the

kitchen counter top.

The postage-paid envelope which had come with the questionnaire was still

unsealed and Georgos took the enclosure out. What he had written, he

realized again, was masterful. Why not send it? After all, it was

anonymous; be bad already torn off, and discarded, the portion of the

questionnaire which bad the name "OweD Grainger" and the apartment

address. Even that had been printed by a computer, something Georgos

recognized instantly, so it was impersonal, as mailings from computers

always were.

Someone ought to read what he had written. Whoever it was would be

jolted, which was good. At the same time they could not fall-even if

reluctantly-to admire the writer's mind.

Making another decision, Georgos sealed the envelope. He would put it in

a mailbox when he went out Sunday night.

He resumed his pacing and-though he didn't really want tostarted thinking

again about that long-ago day and the cornered rat.

14

At approximately the same moment that Georgos Archambault made his

decision to ~omb La Mission for the second time, Harry London faced Nim

Goldman.

"No!" London said. "Goddammit no! Not for you, Nim, or anybody else."

Nim said patiently, "All I've asked you to do is consider some special

circumstances. I happen to know the Sloan family . . ."

The two men were in Nim's office. Harry London, standing, leaned across

the desk between them. "You may know the family, but I know the case.

It's all in here. Read it!" The Property Protection chief, his face

flushed, slammed down a bulky file.

"Calm down, Harry," Nim said. "And I don't need to read the file. I'll

take your word about the kind of case it is, and how messy."

A short time ago, remembering his promise to Karen the previous evening,

Nim had telephoned Harry London to see if he knew of a theft of service

case involving a Luther Sloan.

"You bet I do," had been the answer.

367

When Nim disclosed his personal interest London had stated, "I'll come up."

Now Harry London insisted, "You're damn right it's a messy case. Your

friend Sloan has been bypassing meters-lots of them-for better than a

year."

Nim said irritably, "He isn't my friend. His daughter is."

Tne of your many women friends, no doubt."

'Knock it off, Harry!" Nim, too, was becoming angry. "Karen Sloan is a

quadriplegic."

He went on to describe the Sloan family, how both parents helped Karen

financially, and how Luther Sloan had gone into debt to buy a special van

for Karen's use. "ODe thing I'm certain of. Whatever Karen's father did

with any money be made, he didn't spend it on himsel f. "

London said contemptuously. "So does that make thievery any better? Of

course it doesn't, and you know it."

"Yes, I know it. But surely, if we also know of extenuating circumstances,

we could be less tough."

"Just what did you have in mind?"

Nim ignored the caustic tone. "Well, maybe we could insist on restitution,

let Luther Sloan pay back whatever was stolen, giving him some time to do

it, but not launch criminal proceedings."

Harry London said coldly, "So that's your suggestion?"

:,Yes, it is."

'Nim," London said, "I never thought the day would come when I'd stand here

and hear you say what you just did."

"Ob, for Chrissakes, Harry! Who knows what they'll say and do in certain

situations?"

"I do. And I know what I'm saying now: The Sloan case will take its course,

which means a criminal charge is going to be laid within the next few days.

Unless, of course, you decide to fire me and do it your way.

Nim said wearily, "Harry, stop talking bilge."

There was a silence, then London said, "Nim, you're thinking of Yale,

aren't you?"

:'Yes. 11

'You're thinking that old man Yale got away with power theft, or at least

involvement in it, so why shouldn't Luther Sloan? You're figuring there was