Nobody had a chance to win with Tookey at

Nobody had a chance to win with Tookey at the controls. Tookey could just shut his eyes and gun her; nobody else could do that.

They made the tunnel entrance after sideswiping a big yellow Caddy, an episode that made LaMort laugh aloud with glee. They both felt better after that, and the tunnel was cool after the hot morning sun. Tookey relaxed a little, and LaMort stopped his gutteral laughs, content to stare hypnotically at the blur of the white tiles.

“I hope w'e find that fix, man,” LaMort said dreamily. “How much longer is it? Howr long?”

Whish! A Chevy blasted by in the other lane, and Tookey swore. Whish! w'ent a Toyota, and Tookey bore down on the accelerator, wanting his revenge on the open road outside the tunnel.

But the tunnel wound on, endlessly, longer than it ever had before. It w'as getting hot and hard to breathe. Lit .le pimples of sweat covered LaMort’s face and trickled dowm into his leather collar. The shirt clung damply to his back and underarms.

LaMort started to whine. His eyes filled his face, and he gasped: “Man, I’m suffocating. I’m passing out....”

“What do you want me to do?” Tookey yelled. Still the tunnel w’ound on. Whish! went the cars in the parallel lane and Tookey cursed his bad choice, cursed the heat, cursed LaMort, cursed all the Sundays that ever were.

He shot a look at the balcony where the cops patrolled the traffic, and decided to take a chance. He slowed the car down to 30 and yanked the wheel sharply to the left to slip the car into a faster lane, right in front of a big, child-filled station wagon.

Even in the tunnel roar they could hear its driver’s angry shout, and Tookey told him what he could do with his station wagon and his children. Still the tunnel wound on.

They saw the hot glare of daylight at the exit. LaMort moaned in relief, but nothing could soften Tookey’s ire. They came out of the tunnel and turned onto the highway, only to jerk to a halt behind another