Paycheck (2003) Read Online Free PDF

smiled. ‘You and your friend, your helpful friend. I hope
he
left you enough things to get you out again, after you have the photographs.’
    ‘Do you?’
    ‘Why not?’ Kelly said easily. ‘I always liked you. You know that. You knew when you came to me.’
    Jennings stepped out of the cruiser. He had on overalls and workshoes, and a gray sweatshirt. ‘I’ll see you later. If everything goes all right. I think it will.’ He patted his pocket. ‘With my charms here, my good-luck charms.’
    He went off through the trees, walking swiftly.
    The trees led to the very edge of the road. He stayed with them, not coming out into the open. The Plant guards were certainly scanning the hillside. They had burned it clean, so that anyone trying to creep up to the fence would be spotted at once. And he had seen infrared searchlights.
    Jennings crouched low, resting against his heels, watching the road. A few yards up the road was a roadblock, just ahead of the gate. He examined his watch. Ten thirty. He might have a wait, a long wait. He tried to relax.
    It was after eleven when the great truck came down the road, rumbling and wheezing.
    Jennings came to life. He took out the strip of green cloth and fastened it around his arm. The truck came closer. He could see its load now. The back was full of workmen, men in jeans and workshirts, bounced and jolted as the truck moved along. Sure enough, each had an arm band like his own, a swathe of green around his upper arm. So far so good.
    The truck came slowly to a halt, stopping at the roadblock. The men got down slowly onto the road, sending up a cloud of dust into the hot midday sun. They slapped the dust from their jeans, some of them lighting cigarettes. Two guards came leisurely from behind the roadblock. Jennings tensed. In a moment it would be time. The guards moved among the men, examining them, their arm bands, their faces, looking at the identification tabs of a few.
    The roadblock slid back. The gate opened. The guards returned to their positions.
    Jennings slid forward, slithering through the brush, toward the road. The men were stamping out their cigarettes, climbing back up into the truck. The truck was gunning its motor, the driver releasing the brakes. Jennings dropped onto the road, behind the truck. A rattle of leaves and dirt showered after him. Where he had landed, the view of the guards was cut off by the truck. Jennings held his breath. He ran toward the back of the truck.
    The men stared at him curiously as he pulled himself up among them, his chest rising and falling. Their faces were weathered, gray and lined. Men of the soil. Jennings took his place between two burly farmers as the truck started up. They did not seem to notice him. He had rubbed dirt into his skin, and let his beard grow for a day. At a quick glance he didn’t look much different from the others. But if anyone made a count—
    The truck passed through the gate, into the grounds. The gate slid shut behind. Now they were going up, up the steep side of the hill, the truck rattling and swaying from side to side. The vast concrete structure loomed nearer. Were they going to enter it? Jennings watched, fascinated. A thin high door was sliding back, revealing a dark interior. A row of artificial lights gleamed.
    The truck stopped. The workmen began to get down again. Some mechanics came around them.
    ‘What’s this crew for?’ one of them asked.
    ‘Digging. Inside.’ Another jerked a thumb. ‘They’re digging again. Send them inside.’
    Jennings’s heart thudded. He was going inside! He felt at his neck. There, inside the gray sweater, a flatplate camera hung like a bib around his neck. He could scarcely feel it, even knowing it was there. Maybe this would be less difficult than he had thought.
    The workmen pushed through the door on foot, Jennings with them. They were in an immense workroom, long benches with half-completed machinery, booms and cranes, and the constant roar of work. The