Free Code to Zero by Follett Ken Page B

thin, and under the makeup her complexion was bad. “I don’t know who I am,” he told her.
    “Well, you ain’t no bum, that’s for sure,” she said. “I never saw an alky that could punch out a big fat prick like Sidney here.”
    “That’s what I’ve been thinking.”
    “We better get out of here,” she said. “He’s going to be mad when he comes round.”
    Luke nodded. He was not afraid of Sidney, mad or otherwise, but before long there would be more cops on the scene, and he needed to be elsewhere. He stepped through the gap in the fence onto the street and walked away quickly.
    The woman followed him, stiletto heels clicking on the sidewalk. He slowed his pace to let her catch up, feeling a kind of camaraderie with her. They had both been abused by Sidney the patrolman.
    “It was kind of nice to see Sidney come up against someone he couldn’t push around,” she said. “I guess I owe you.”
    “Not at all.”
    “Well, next time you’re feeling horny, it’s on the house.”
    Luke tried not to show his revulsion. “What’s your name?”
    “Dee-Dee.”
    He raised an eyebrow at her.
    “Well, Doris Dobbs, really,” she admitted. “But what kind of name is that for a good-time girl?”
    “I’m Luke. I don’t know my surname. I’ve lost my memory.”
    “Wow. That must make you feel, like . . . strange.”
    “Disoriented.”
    “Yeah,” she said. “That’s the word was on the tip of my tongue.”
    He glanced at her. There was a wry grin on her face. He realized she was making fun of him, and he liked her for it. “It’s not just that I don’t know my name and address,” he explained. “I don’t even know what kind of person I am.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I wonder if I’m honest?” Maybe it was foolish, he thought, to pour out his heart to a whore on the street, but he had no one else. “Am I a loyal husband and a loving father and a reliable workmate? Or am I some kind of gangster? I hate not knowing.”
    “Honey, if that’s what’s bothering you, I know what kind of guy youare already. A gangster would be thinking, am I rich, do I slay the broads, are people scared of me?”
    That was a point. Luke nodded. But he was not satisfied. “It’s one thing to want to be a good person—but maybe I don’t live up to what I believe in.”
    “Welcome to the human race, sweetheart,” she said. “We all feel that way.” She stopped at a doorway. “It’s been a long night. This is where I get off the train.”
    “So long.”
    She hesitated. “Want some advice?”
    “Sure.”
    “If you want people to stop treating you like a piece of shit, you better smarten yourself up. Have a shave, comb your hair, find yourself a coat that doesn’t look like you stole it off a carthorse.”
    Luke realized she was right. No one would take any notice of him, let alone help him discover his identity, while he looked like a crazy person. “I guess you’re right,” he said. “Thanks.” He turned away.
    She called after him, “And get a hat!”
    He touched his head, then looked around. He was the only person on the street, male or female, without a hat. But how could a bum get a new suit of clothes? The handful of change in his pocket would not buy much.
    The solution came fully formed into his head. Either it was an easy question, or he had been in this situation before. He would go to a train station. A station was generally full of people carrying complete changes of clothing, together with shaving tackle and other toiletries, all neatly packed in suitcases.
    He went to the next corner and checked his location. He was on A Street and Seventh. On leaving Union Station early this morning, he had noticed that it was near the corner of F and Second.
    He headed that way.

10 A.M.
    The first stage of the missile is attached to the second by explosive bolts wrapped around with coil springs. When the booster is burned out, the bolts will detonate and the springs push the redundant first