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Undergound. Go to Table of Contents.

   However, Par never really got over being on the run.

  

   From the time he walked free from the County Jail in Salinas,

   California, he continued to move around the country, picking up

   temporary work here and there. But he found it hard to settle in one

   place. Worst of all, strange things began happening to him. Well, they

   had always happened to him, but they were getting stranger by the

   month. His perception of reality was changing.

  

   There was the incident in the motel room. As Par sat in the Las Vegas

   Travelodge on one if his cross-country treks, he perceived someone

   moving around in the room below his. Par strained to hear. It seemed

   like the man was talking to him. What was the man trying to tell him?

   Par couldn't quite catch the words, but the more he listened, the more

   Par was sure he had a message for him which he didn't want anyone else

   to hear. It was very frustrating. No matter how hard he tried, no

   matter how he put his ear down to the floor or against the wall, Par

   couldn't make it out.

  

   The surreal experiences continued. As Par described it, on a trip down

   to Mexico, he began feeling quite strange, so he went to the US

   consulate late one afternoon to get some help. But everyone in the

   consulate behaved bizarrely.

  

   They asked him for some identification, and he gave them his wallet.

   They took his Social Security card and his California identification

   card and told him to wait. Par believed they were going to pull up

   information about him on a computer out the back. While waiting, his

   legs began to tremble and a continuous shiver rolled up and down his

   spine. It wasn't a smooth, fluid shiver, it was jerky. He felt like he

   was sitting at the epicentre of an earthquake and it frightened him.

   The consulate staff just stared

   at him.

  

   Finally Par stopped shaking. The other staff member returned and asked

   him to leave.

  

   `No-one can help you here,' he told Par.

  

   Why was the consular official talking to him like that? What did he

   mean--Par had to leave? What was he really trying to say? Par couldn't

   understand him. Another consular officer came around to Par, carrying

   handcuffs. Why was everyone behaving in such a weird way? That

   computer. Maybe they had found some special message next to his name

   on that computer.

  

   Par tried to explain the situation, but the consulate staff didn't

   seem to understand. He told them about how he had been on the run from

   the Secret Service for two and a half years, but that just got him

   queer looks. Blank faces. No comprehende. The more he explained, the

   blanker the faces became.

  

   The consular officials told him that the office was closing for the

   day. He would have to leave the building. But Par suspected that was

   just an excuse. A few minutes later, a Mexican policeman showed up. He

   talked with one of the consular officials, who subsequently handed him

   what Par perceived to be a slip of paper wrapped around a wad of peso

   notes.

  

   Two more policemen came into the consulate. One of them turned to Par