"Please let us through, Captain!" a woman near him asked. She was slender, she had been crying. Lowary felt so helpless. He said, "There is nothing I can do. This bridge must be kept open for relief purposes. It is out of my hands." "You're a murderer. You're keeping us here to be killed." "There were other routes open. You should have taken--" The woman flung herself at him, beating at his chest with her thin hands. "I want to go home," she screamed. Lowary took her by the wrists and held her off gently. God give me strength, he prayed. It would be so easy to let her through, along with the others. They would be safe, perhaps. But he would be running the risk of losing the bridge. Everyone in the City wouldn't die, some would survive the hell blast. They would need medical attention, supplies, food and water. They deserved that chance. A man's heavy voice carried above the shouts. "We can get through if we all try it at the same time. He can't shoot us ... he's in the line of fire." Lowary hadn't realized it, but it was true. The machine-gunners were sighting down his back. He shouted above the rising din, "It makes no difference, they'll shoot if they have to." "It's a lie," a woman shouted. Lowary heard the whine of a powerful motor start up. "Well, I'm for giving it a try," he heard someone far back say. Lowary turned and faced the gunners. He could see Morgan's strained face. The kid looked so young, yet he was the only one Lowary felt he could depend on. "If anything moves down here I want you to open fire," he called to Morgan. "Understand?" Morgan's helmet nodded slowly. Lowary turned around. The woman seemed undecided. Lowary spoke softly. "Why don't you get down off the road, into that gully? You'll be safe there." The woman's mouth worked up and down but no words came out. Her face was white and haggard. The radio in Lowary's jeep began a familiar crackling sound as someone on the same frequency pressed a button on a handset. Lowary was afraid to move. He could easily start a stampede if the civilians thought he was making the move just to get out of the line of sight of the machine gunners. Slowly, he raised his hand until it was near the .45 resting in the holster clipped to his web belt. He waited. "LARGO ONE--THIS IS LARGO NINE--OVER." Lowary edged backwards, still facing the crowd. The woman was crying now. Down the line of cars he could hear the high powered motor being gunned as it was being maneuvered out of the line. Soon it would make the attempt of running down Morgan and the others. It wouldn't stand a chance, but the others might succeed in the confusion that would follow. He made the decision then. Deliberately, he turned his back on the crowd and walked to the jeep. "Don't let him turn on that radio," a man's voice called. "He will warn the rest of the troops to be waiting for us." Lowary picked up the hand-mike. "This is Largo One," he said.