"What is this?" Fred asked, reaching for his glasses, "some kind of a race?"

"No. It's a tour, like the one I'm signed up for in Iowa, only this one is in the Colorado mountains."

"Colorado! Dang! Remember Burlington-the postmark on the money sent to that Cece gal? There's a Burlington in Colorado, right across the border from Kansas!"

"One more tie."

Fred studied the magazine. "Tell me about this 'Ride the Rockies' bike tour," Fred said as he scribbled notes.

"Iowa is a fun tour while 'Ride the Rockies' takes some serious training. Seven days, 443 miles, and some world-class climbs. There are 2,000 cyclists who get to ride on a first-come, first-served basis. They draw a lottery from the 4,000 or so who want to ride."

"Why?" Fred asked. Dean just raised his eyebrows. "Sort of like climbing a mountain," Fred answered his own question, "'cause it's there?" Dean nodded in agreement as Mrs. Lincoln came over to join them, her long tail swishing for attention. Fred picked her up.

"It's a one-week tour, each day a separate segment, with every­one riding at their own pace-within reason. You stay in a differ­ent town each night." Dean picked up the magazine, glancing at it as he spoke. "The ride starts out fairly flat and then climbs-Wolfe Creek Pass at 10,850 feet, Poncha Pass at 9,019, Fremont at 11,318 and finally Loveland Pass at 11,992 feet. Some of the days, you only bike 40 or 50 miles but on others you do 80 or 90."

"There's a lot of damn fool crazies in the world, ain't there? I suppose we'll be joining 'em. When is it?"

"I'll be joining 'em-you'll be holding down the fort here in Parkside, Pennsylvania." He added, "The ride starts on June 13, two weeks from tomorrow."

"You in that kind of shape?" Fred asked, ignoring Dean's com­ment on going alone.

"No-not by a long shot," answered Dean, "but the way I see it, it's the best opportunity we've had to date to catch up with this guy-the closest we'll ever get to the jerk. I can't blow the chance, no matter how slim it is. Besides, you saw the guys at Willoughby's. We're not the only ones chasing Jeffrey Byrne and by the looks of things, they'd blow his head off as soon as spit on him. And for once, we've got a lead they haven't overheard."

Fred perused the article. "How are you going to get in this here bike ride? You said they draw a lottery so they must have already pulled names and filled it up."

"Flash my badge. And don't bother asking how I'm going to pick out a guy I've never seen from 2,000 bicyclists. That's only one of the details I've got to work on while I'm beating my body into shape over the next two weeks."




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