Dead drops. He buries his time capsule, transmits the location, then digs it up to collect whatever inverted material they’ve sent.
NEIL:
Instantaneous. Where’s he bury it?
PROTAGONIST:
Someplace that won’t be disturbed for centuries. What did the soil sample show?
NEIL:
Northern Europe or Asia, radioactive. Dried blood was European.
PROTAGONIST:
Pretty broad.
NEIL:
This is the start of the run.
The Protagonist looks back where they came. Then up ahead.
PROTAGONIST:
When does the material arrive?
NEIL:
Thursday. When does Sator arrive?
PROTAGONIST:
I don’t know. But he’ll be here.
NEIL:
Cargo’s in a reinforced truck.
Nuclear police front and back – SUVs with serious armour – you can’t break in through the windows.
PROTAGONIST:
And they can’t break out.
NEIL:
I don’t follow.
PROTAGONIST:
You will. So, light convoy through downtown, what’s the thinking?
NEIL:
A crowded, unpredictable traffic pattern makes planning an ambush almost impossible.
The Protagonist looks around at the congestion.
PROTAGONIST:
They have a point. Is the convoy monitored from the air?
NEIL:
No, tracked by GPS – a wrong turn or an unscheduled stop, in comes the cavalry.
Neil and the Protagonist hop a tram. The Protagonist studies the journey along the multi-lane road out of town.
PROTAGONIST:
We need big guns, guns that make the point without being fired. We need a fast car that doesn’t look fast and four heavy vehicles, all different – bus, coach, eighteen- wheeler... Neil nods.
PROTAGONIST (CONT'D) One of them has to be a fire truck.