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           AsLouislefttheBIAterminalbuilding,acoldcloakfelloverhismind.Hebecameawarethathemeanttogothroughwiththis.Hismind,whichhadbeensharpenoughtogethimthroughmedschoolmostlyonascholarshipandwhathiswifecouldearnpushingcoffee-and-danishonthe5to11A.M.shiftsixdaysaweek,hadtakentheproblemoverandbrokenitdownintocomponents,asifthiswasjustanotherprelim—thebiggestonehehadevertaken.AndheintendedtopassitwithanAplus,onehundredpercent.

           HedrovetoBrewer,thelittlecityacrossthePenobscotRiverfromBangor.HefoundaparkingspotacrossthestreetfromWatson’sHardware.

           "CanIhelpyou?"theclerkasked.

           "Yes,"Louissaid."I’dlikeaheavyflashlight—oneofthesquareones—andsomethingIcanhooditwith."

           Theclerkwasasmallslimmanwithahighforeheadandsharpeyes.Hesmilednow,buthissmilewasnotparticularlypleasant."Goingjacking,goodbuddy?"

           "Ibegyourpardon?"

           "Gonnajacklightafewdeertonight?"

           "Notatall,"Louissaid,unsmiling."Ihaven’talicensetojack."

           Theclerkblinkedandthendecidedtolaugh."Inotherwords,mindmyownbusiness,huh?Well,look—youcan’thoodoneofthosebiglights,butyoucangetapieceoffeltandpokeaholeinthemiddleofit.Cutthebeamdowntoapenlite."

           "Thatsoundsfine,"Louissaid."Thanks."

           "Surely.