scoonts.theminotaur-第36部分

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t　the　document　key　words　and　numbers…〃　He　sighed。　〃I　would　bet　my　last　penny　he　hasn't　seen　all　the　files　he's　given　away。　I'll　bet　there　isn't　a　man　alive　who's　had　authorized　access　to　all　those　files。〃
　〃It's　worth　a　try。〃
　〃Agreed。　But　we'll　never　get　the　Cray　mainframe　for　two　weeks。　The　fingerprint　guys　would　cry　a　river。　So　let's　get　started　with　what　we　have。　Get　the　access　sheets　for　these　five　files　we　know　about　and　let's　see　who's　on　them。　And　for　Christ's　sake；　keep　your　head　down。　Don't　let　anyone　know　what　you're　after。　We　don't　want　to　spook　our　man。〃
　〃Okay；〃　Dreyfus　agreed。　〃While　we're　at　it；　why　don't　we　just　pick　up　Terry　Franklin　and　sweat　the　little　bastard？〃
　〃Not　yet。〃
　Dreyfus'　pipe　was　dead。　He　sucked　audibly；　then　got　out　his　lighter。　When　he　was　exhaling　smoke　again；　he　said；　〃I　think　we're　making　a　mistake　not　keeping　Franklin　under　surveillance。〃
　〃What　if　the　little　shit　bolts？　What　then？　Is　Franklin　the　only　mole　Ivan　has　over　there？　Is　he？〃
　Dreyfus　threw　up　his　hands　and　gathered　up　his　papers。
　〃Get　somebody　to　tackle　this　decoding　project　with　the　mainframe　when　it's　not　in　use。　The　front　office　will　never　give　us　two　weeks；　but　let's　see　what　we　can　do　with　a　couple　hours　here　and　there。〃
　〃Sure；　Luis。〃
　〃Again；　nice　work；　Dreyfus。〃
　Camacho　stared　at　the　door　after　Dreyfus　left。　He　had　slipped　and　made　a　mistake；　he　had　lied　to　Dreyfus。　The　only　way　to　keep　two　separate　lives　pletely；　safely　separate　was　to　never　tell　a　lie。　Never。　You　often　had　to　leave　out　part　of　the　truth；　but　that　wasn't　a　lie。　A　lie　was　a　booby　trap；　a　land　mine　that　could　explode　at　any　time　with　fatal　results。　And　this　lie　had　been　a　big　one。　He　sat　now　staring　at　the　objects　on　his　desk　with　unseeing　eyes　as　he　examined　the　dimensions　of　the　lie　and　its　possible　implications。　Stupid！　A　stupid；　idiotic　lie。
　He　rubbed　his　forehead　again　and　found　he　couldn't　sit　still。　He　paced；　back　and　forth　and　back　and　forth；　until　finally　he　was　standing　in　front　of　the　Pentagon　organization　chart。　If　there　were　forty　files　or　sixty…three　or　any　number；　there　would　be　a　small　group　of　people　who　would　have　access　to　all　of　them；　if　you　constructed　just　one　more　hypothesis…that　all　the　files　concerned　classified　projects　in　research　or　development。　Tyler　Henry　the　admiral　suspected　they　did。　Albright　the　spy　already　knew　and　had　told　him　so。　Camacho　the　spy　catcher　must　verify　or　refute　that　hypothesis　soon；　or　Dreyfus　and　Henry　and　Albright　and　a　lot　of　the　others　are　going　to　think　him　inpetent；　or　worse。　He　stood　staring　at　one　box　on　the　plex　chart。　Inside　the　box　was　printed：　〃Under　Secretary　of　Defense　for　Acquisition。〃
　He　sat　at　his　desk　and　unlocked　the　lower　right　drawer　and　removed　a　file。　Inside　were　photocopies　of　all　sixty…three　letters。　They　were　in　chronological　order。　All　had　been　written　on　plain　white　copy　machine　paper　in　#2　lead　pencil；　which　had　been　a　wise　precaution　on　the　part　of　the　person　or　persons　who　wrote　them。　Ink　could　be　analyzed　chemically　and　the　sellers　of　pens　could　be　interviewed；　but　a　#2　lead　pencil　was　a　#2　lead　pencil。　And　copy　machine　paper…the　stuff　was　everywhere；　in　every　office　of　the　nation。
　On　an　average　day　the　Soviet　embassy　received　several　dozen　casual　cards　and　letters　mailed　from　all　over　the　United　States。　Most　of　the　messages　were　short　and　to　the　point。　Many　were　crude。　〃Eat　shit；　Ivan；〃　seemed　to　be　popular。　The　Chernobyl　disaster　and　the　Armenian　earthquake　had　elicited　thousands　of　pieces　of　mail；　much　to　the　chagrin　of　the　postal　inspectors　and　FBI　agents　assigned　to　screen　it。
　Over　the　last　three　years　these　letters　in　this　file　had　been　culled　for　further　scrutiny。　All　the　messages'　were　printed　in　small　block　letters；　all　were　long　enough　to　contain　an　internal　code　and　all　of　them　had　been　written　in　English　by　someone　with　a　fairly　decent　education。　Some　were　signed　and　some　weren't。　Interestingly；　about　80　percent　of　these　letters　had　been　mailed　in　the　Washington　metropolitan　area。　Not　a　one　had　been　mailed　from　over　a　hundred　miles　away。　All　had　been　enclosed　in　cheap；　plain　white　envelopes　available　in　hundreds　of　bookstores；　convenience　stores；　supermarkets；　etc。；　all　over　town。
　Camacho　looked　closely。　It　was　easy　to　see　that　the　same　person　had　written　them　all；　the　penmanship　was　so　careful　and　neat；　the　style　of　the　writer　so　consistent　from　letter　to　letter。　And　every　now　and　then；　maybe　once　in　every　other　letter；　the　syntax　was　tortuous；　not　quite　right。　It　was　as　if　the　writer　purposefully　chose　a　difficult　sentence　construction。　The　conclusion　that　these　letters；　or　at　least　some　of　them；　contained　an　internal　code　was　inescapable。
　The　mechanics　of　the　matrix　demanded　a　reasonably　long　letter　if　one　were　going　to　encrypt　a　long　message；　say　three　dozen　characters。　If　it　took　an　average　of　three　words　to　signal　one　character；　then　the　message　must　run　to　at　least　nine　dozen　words；　too　many　for　a　postcard。
　The　sheer　number　of　letters　was　daunting。　Some　of　them　were　probably　dross。　The　Minotaur　knew　these　letters　would　arouse　suspicion；　so　he　wrote　lots　of　them。　And　it　was　impossible　to　tell　which　contained　a　code　and　which　didn't。　He　was　hiding　in　plain　sight。
　Maybe　that　was　the　key。　Maybe　the　Minotaur　wasn't　just　some　career　civil　servant；　some　clerk。　Maybe　he　was　a　man　in　plain　sight；　out　in　the　open；　known　to　one　and　all。　But　why？　Why　was　he　mitting　treason？　That's　what　the　Soviets　wanted　to　know。
　Camacho　picked　up　the　phone　and　punched　numbers。　〃Dreyfus；　pull　the　files　on　all　the　political　people　in　the　Defense　Department　and　put　them　in　the　conference　room。〃
　〃All　of　them？　Again？〃
　〃All。〃
　〃Yessir；〃　Dreyfus　said　without　enthusiasm。
　Even　a　blind　hog　finds　an　acorn　occasionally；　Camacho　told　himself　as　he　cradled　the　phone。　And　if　there's　an　acorn　in　those　files；　this　time　I'm　going　to　find　it。
　
　The　youngest　child；　a　four…year…old　boy；　threw　a　fit　as　Lucy　Franklin　drove　toward　Dulles。　The　nine…year　old；　Karen；　had　been　deviling　him　all　morning；　and　apparently　he　decided　he　had　had　enough。　He　wailed　at　the　top　of　his　lungs　and　punched　at　his　sister。　One　of　his　swings　connected　with　her　nose。　Blood　spouted　and　she　screamed　too。　Lucy　pulled　off　the　freeway　and　put　the　car　in　neutral。
　〃Shut　up！〃　she　roared。　〃Both　you　kids；　stop　it！〃　Satisfied　with　the　oute　of　the　battle；　the　boy　sat　back　and　stared　at　the　blood　dripping　on　ha　sister's　dress　as　she　sobbed　uncontrollably。　〃Look　at　you　two。　Fighting　again。　Now　Karen's　hurt。　Aren't　you　sorry；　Kevin？〃
　He　didn't　look　a　bit　sorry；　which　made　Karen　cry　harder。　Lucy　got　her　into　the　front　seat　and　held　a　tissue　on　her　nose　until　the　bleeding　stopped。　She　cuddled　the　child。　Karen　had　vomited　twice　during　the　night；　so　this　morning　Lucy　had　kept　her　home　from　school。　The　traffic　roared　by。　〃Say　you're　sorry；　Kevin。〃
　〃I'm　sorry。〃　His　hand　came　over　the　seat　and　touched　Karen's　hair。　The　sobbing　gradually　eased。　Holding　a　tissue　against　Karen's　nose　with　her　left　hand；　Lucy　leaned　over　the　seat　and　cuddled　the　boy。　This　week　had　been　tough　on　them。　Terry　was　so　distant；　saying　little；　shouting　at　the　children　as　they　ran　through　the　house　and　made　their　usual　noise。
　He　was　a　volcano　about　to　erupt。　His　tension　and　fear　were　tangible；　visible；　frightening　to　the　children；　terrifying　to　Lucy。　Even　as　she　sat　here　on　the　freeway；　the　unreasoning　panic　that　Terry　caused　washed　over　her　again。　What　had　he　done？　What　would　he　do？　Would　he　hurt　the　children？　Would　he　hurt　her？
　〃Mommy；　don't　cry。〃
　〃I'm　not　crying；　sweetheart。　I　just　have　something　in　my　eye。〃
　〃I'm　okay　now；〃　Karen　said；　casting　an　evil　glance　across　the　seat　back　at　her　brother。
　〃No　more　fighting。　You　two　love　each　other。　No　more　fighting。　It　makes　me　sad　to　see　you　two　trying　to　irritate　each　other。〃
　Now　Kevin's　hand　touched　her　hair。　〃Let's　go　get　Grandma。〃
　〃Yes。　Let's　do。〃　She　started　the　engine　and　slipped　out　into　traffic。
　
　At　lunch　Toad　and　Rita　shared　a　table：　just　the　two　of　them。　From　a　table　fifty　feet　away　Jake　Grafton　watched　the　body　language　and　gestures　as　he　listened　to　George　Wilson　and　Dalton　Harris　talk　baseball。　So　Toad　Tarkington　had　fallen　in　love　again！　That　guy　went　over　that　precipice　with　awe…inspiring　regularity。　The　impact　at　the　bottom　was　also　spectacular。
　You　really　had　to　tip　your　hat　to　the　guy。　He　arrives；　takes　in　the　female　situation　at　a　glance；　then　immediately　makes　a　fool　of　himself　over　the　best…looking　woman　in　sight。　Jake　allowed　himself　a　grin。　The　ol'　Horny　Toad。
　Back　in　the　office　after　lunch；　Jake　called　Tarkington　over　to　his　desk。　〃I've　been　looking　over　this　memo　about　the　A…6　system。　How　did　it　go　when　you　turned　off　the　radar　and　Doppler？〃
　〃Well；　sir；　without　the　Doppler　to　dampen　the　velocities；　the　inertial　tends　to　drift　somewhat。　But　without　the　radar　all　you　have　is　the　IR　and　it's　tough。　When　it　isn't　raining　or　snowing　you　can　run　attacks　okay　once　you've　found　the　target。　The　nav　system　just　isn't　right　enough　to　let　you　find　the　targets　without　the　radar。　The　IR　doesn't　have　enough　field　of　view。　With　a　global　positioning　system　to　stabilize　the　inertial　you　might　have　a　chance；　but　not　now。〃
　〃It　l