Duel Read Free Page A

himself in the wall mirror. Still with us, Mann, he thought. He nodded, swallowing. Drawing out his metal comb, he neatened his hair. You never know, he thought. You just never know. You drift along, year after year, presuming certain values to be fixed; like being able to drive on a public thoroughfare without somebody trying to murder you. You come to depend on that sort of thing. Then something occurs and all bets are off. One shocking incident and all the years of logic and acceptance are displaced and, suddenly, the jungle is in front of you again. Man, part animal, part angel. Where had he come across that phrase? He shivered.
    It was entirely an animal in that truck out there.
    His breath was almost back to normal now. Mann forced a smile at his reflection. All right, boy, he told himself. It’s over now. It was a goddamned nightmare, but it’s over. You are on your way to San Francisco. You’ll get yourself a nice hotel room, order a bottle of expensive Scotch, soak your body in a hot bath and forget. Damn right, he thought. He turned and walked out of the washroom.
    He jolted to a halt, his breath cut off. Standing rooted, heartbeat hammering at his chest, he gaped through the front window of the cafe.
    The truck and trailer were parked outside.
    Mann stared at them in unbelieving shock. It wasn’t possible. He’d seen them roaring by at top speed. The driver had won; he’d won! He’d had the whole damn highway to himself! Why had he turned back?
    Mann looked around with sudden dread. There were five men eating, three along the counter, two in booths. He cursed himself for having failed to look at faces when he’d entered. Now there was no way of knowing who it was. Mann felt his legs begin to shake.
    Abruptly, he walked to the nearest booth and slid in clumsily behind the table. Now wait, he told himself; just wait. Surely, he could tell which one it was. Masking his face with the menu, he glanced across its top. Was it that one in the khaki work shirt? Mann tried to see the man’s hands but couldn’t. His gaze flicked nervously across the room.
Not that one in the suit, of course. Three remaining. That one in the front booth, square-faced, black-haired? If only he could see the man’s hands, it might help. One of the two others at the counter? Mann studied them uneasily. Why hadn’t he looked at faces when he’d come in?
    Now wait , he thought. Goddamn it, wait! All right, the truck driver was in here. That didn’t automatically signify that he meant to continue the insane duel. Chuck’s Cafe might be the only place to eat for miles around. It was lunchtime, wasn’t it? The truck driver had probably intended to eat here all the time. He’d just been moving too fast to pull into the parking lot before. So he’d slowed down, turned around and driven back, that was all. Mann forced himself to read the menu. Right, he thought. No point in getting so rattled. Perhaps a beer would help relax him.
    The woman behind the counter came over and Mann ordered a ham sandwich on rye toast and a bottle of Coors. As the woman turned away, he wondered, with a sudden twinge of self-reproach, why he hadn’t simply left the cafe, jumped into his car and sped away. He would have known immediately, then, if the truck driver was still out to get him. As it was, he’d have to suffer through an entire meal to find out. He almost groaned at his stupidity.
    Still, what if the truck driver had followed him out and started after him again? He’d have been right back where he’d started. Even if he’d managed to get a good lead, the truck driver would have overtaken him eventually. It just wasn’t in him to drive at 80 and 90 miles an hour in order to stay ahead. True, he might have been intercepted by a California Highway Patrol car. What if he weren’t, though?
    Mann repressed the plaguing thoughts. He tried to calm himself. He looked