scoonts.theminotaur-第75部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

t　was　worth。　Men　on　first　and　second；　one　out。　Two　strikes　on　Jose　Canseco。
　Another　foul　tip。
　〃Guy　ought　to　quit　fouling　the　ball；〃　Albright　said。　〃Sometimes　you　want　them　to　either　hit　it　or　strike　out；　it　doesn't　matter；　as　long　as　the　game　goes　on。〃
　〃Yeah；〃　Camacho　mumbled　with　his　mouth　full。　He　swallowed。　〃But　the　guy　keeps　swinging　to　stay　alive。〃
　The　Baltimore　pitcher　swung　around　and　threw　to　second。　Too　late。
　〃Now　the　pitcher's　doing　it。〃　Albright　helped　himself　to　another　Fig　Newton。
　Camacho　finished　his　milk　and　set　the　glass　in　the　sink。
　〃Here's　the　pitch；〃　the　radio　blared。　The　crack　of　the　bat　started　the　crowd　roaring。　〃Through　the　hole；　looks　like　it's　going　to　the　wall。　Man　rounding　third　is　trotting　home。　And　that's　it；　folks。　The　A's　win　it　in　the　eleventh　inning　on　an　RBI　double　by　Jose　Canseco。〃　Camacho　nipped　the　radio　off。
　〃A　good　player；〃　Albright　told　him。
　〃Good　kid；〃　Luis　agreed。
　〃Gonna　be　a　superstar。〃
　〃If　he　lasts。〃
　〃Yeah。　They　all　gotta　last。　Everyone　has　high　expectations；　then　for　some　reason；　sometimes　the　kid　sorta　fizzles。　Know　what　I　mean？〃
　Camacho　nodded　and　put　Albright's　glass　in　the　sink。
　〃We　had　high　hopes　for　you…〃
　〃Why　don't　you　go　home　and　swelter　at　your　house；　Harlan。　It's　two…thirty　in　the　morning　and　I　have　to　work　tomorrow。〃
　〃I　don't。　Got　the　air　conditioner　guys　ing　in　the　morning。　I'll　call　in　sick。　Tomorrow　night　my　place　is　going　to　be　like　Moscow　in　winter。〃
　〃Terrific。〃
　Albright　heaved　himself　off　the　stool　and　reached　for　the　sliding　glass　door。　As　his　hand　closed　on　it；　he　paused　and　looked　at　Camacho。　〃Anything　new？〃
　〃Yeah。　One　or　two　little　things；　since　you　mentioned　it。　The　Soviet　ambassador　got　a　letter　several　weeks　ago。　For　some　reason　there　was　a　stain　on　it；　a　jelly　stain。　We　analyzed　it。　Looks　like　a　French　brand　of　blueberry。　Imported。　We　have　a　dozen　agents　on　it。〃
　〃Amazing。〃　Albright　shook　his　head　like　a　great　bear。　He　brightened。　〃That　might　lead　to　something；　eh？〃
　〃It　might。　You　never　know。〃
　〃Amazing。　All　those　letters；　over　three　and　a　half　years！　The　Minotaur　has　never　made　a　mistake；　not　even　one　tiny　slip。　And　now　he　sends　a　letter　with　a　jelly　stain　on　it？　It's　too　good　to　be　real。〃
　〃You　take　your　breaks　where　you　find　them。　If　it　is　a　break。　We'll　find　out　if　I　can　keep　enough　people　working　on　it。　Another　development　just　cropped　up。〃
　〃Like　what？　Peanut　butter　on　the　envelope？〃
　〃Nothing　to　do　with　the　Minotaur。〃
　〃What？〃　Albright　was　no　longer　amused。
　〃Crash　of　the　navy's　ATA　prototype。　Augered　in　yesterday　out　in　Nevada。〃　He　glanced　at　the　wall　clock。　〃Day　before　yesterday；　actually。　Seems　somebody　has　been　peddling　erroneous　information　to　a　defense　contractor。　AeroTech。　So　the　smelly　stuff　has　hit　the　fan；　so　to　speak。〃
　〃Keep　your　people　on　the　Minotaur。〃　His　tone　was　flat。
　〃What　am　I　supposed　to　do　now？　Salute？〃
　Albright　slid　the　door　open。　〃I'm　not　kidding；　Luis。　We　need　some　progress。〃　He　stepped　through　the　door　and　pulled　it　shut　behind　him。　Then　he　disappeared　into　the　darkness。
　A　minute　or　so　later；　Luis　Camacho　locked　the　door　and　pulled　the　drapes。
　
　After　Jake　Grafton　and　the　rest　of　the　staff　left　for　Washington；　the　atmosphere　at　the　base　at　Tonopah　took　on　the　ethereal　silence　of　a　graveyard；　or　so　it　seemed　to　Toad　Tarkington。　He　divided　his　time　between　the　hangar；　where　a　TRX　crew　was　mocking　up　the　remnants　of　the　airplane　he　and　Rita　had　abandoned；　and　the　hospital；　where　Rita　remained　in　a　a。
　Toad　drove　the　two　miles　back　and　forth　between　the　two　locations　in　an　air　force　sedan　that　one　of　the　manders　had　assumed　he　would　return　to　the　motor　pool。　He　would；　eventually；　but　he　was　in　no　hurry。　After　all；　the　mander　had　signed　for　the　car　and　hadn't　really　ordered　him　to　return　it。
　The　lounge　in　the　VOQ　was　empty。　The　other　guests　apparently　were　too　busy　to　hang　around　the　pool　table　and　bet　dimes　and　swap　lies　while　the　TV　hummed　in　the　background；　as　the　naval　aviators　had。　The　camaraderie　was　an　essential　part　of　naval　aviation。　Those　who　flew　the　planes　gave　and　demanded　this　friendship　of　each　other。
　That　first　evening　alone　Toad　tossed　the　cue　ball　down　the　table　and　watched　it　carom　off　the　rails。　He　looked　at　the　empty　seats　and　the　blank　TV　screen　and　the　racks　of　cue　sticks；　and　trudged　off　to　his　room　to　call　Rita's　parents　yet　again。　He　was　talking　to　them　twice　a　day　now。　He　was　also　calling　his　own　folks　out　in　Santa　Barbara　once　a　day；　keeping　them　updated　on　Rita　and　talking　just　to　hear　their　voices。　Likely　as　not　his　parents　were　slightly　baffled　and　secretly　pleased　by　this　attention　from　the　son　who　usually　phoned　once　a　month　and　never　wrote　because　he　had　said　everything　in　the　phone　call。
　It's　funny；　he　mused；　that　now；　now。　with　Rita　in　such　bad　shape；　the　sound　of　his　mother's　voice　was　so　forting。　After　the　second　day　alone；　it　finally　occurred　to　him　that　the　problem　was　that　he　had　almost　nothing　to　do。　He　was　standing　in　the　hangar　watching；　listening；　but　he　had　no　people　to　supervise　or　reports　to　write　or　memos　due；　so　he　merely　observed　with　his　mind　in　neutral。　At　the　hospital　he　sat　beside　Rita；　who　was　moved　to　a　private　room；　and　did　a　monologue　for　her　or　stared　at　the　wall。　And　thought。　He　pondered　and　thought　and　mused　some　more。
　That　evening　on　the　way　to　the　hospital　he　stopped　by　the　exchange　and　bought　a　spiral　notebook。　In　Rita's　room　he　began　to　write。　〃Dear　Rita；〃　he　began；　then　sucked　on　the　pen　and　looked　out　the　window。　He　dated　the　page。　Dear；　dear　Rita：　〃Someday　you　will　wake；　and　when　you　do；　I　will　give　you　this　letter。〃
　He　wrote；　sometimes　for　several　hours　at　a　sitting。　He　started　out　writing　about　Toad　Tarkington：　growing　up　in　southern　California　with　the　beach　and　surf　just　down　the　road；　baseball　and　football　in　the　endless　summer；　the　hard…bodied　bimbettes　chased　and　wooed　and　sometimes　conquered。　He　described　how　he　felt　about　his　first　true　love；　and　his　second　and　third　and　fourth。　He　devoted　page　after　page　to　college　and　grades　and　all…night　parties。
　Finally　he　decided　he　had　squeezed　the　sponge　pretty　dry　on　his　youth；　so　he　turned　to　the　navy。　Without　his　even　realizing　it；　his　style　changed。　Instead　of　the　light；　witty；　listen…to…this　style　he　had　adopted　for　tales　of　his　youth；　he　wrote　seriously　now；　with　no　attempt　at　humor。　Facts；　impressions；　opinions；　ambitions；　they　came　pouring　from　his　pen。
　In　four　days　the　TRX　crew　finished　their　work　and　mysteriously　vanished。　Several　days　later　a　group　of　officers　and　civilians　from　Washington　arrived　unannounced。　They　poked　and　prodded　the　dismembered；　blackened　carcass　and　photographed　everything；　then　climbed　back　into　the　waiting　planes　parked　on　the　baking　ramp　in　front　of　base　ops。　Toad　was　left　with　his　solitude　and　his　writing。
　So　the　days　passed；　one　by　one；　as　Rita　slept。
　
　In　Washington；　Jake　Grafton　was　also　writing；　though　he　went　about　it　in　a　vastly　different　manner　than　Tarkington。　He　dictated　general　ideas　into　a　recording　machine　and　gave　the　tapes　to　his　subordinates；　who　expanded　the　ideas　into　smooth；　detailed　drafts　which　Jake　then　worked　on　with　a　pencil。　Flight　test　data　and　observations　were　marshaled；　correlated　and　piled。　Graphs　were　drawn　and　projections　made　about　performance；　maintenance　man…hours；　mean　time　between　failures　and；　of　course；　costs。　Money　dripped　from　every　page。　Every　officer　in　the　group　had　an　input；　and　conclusions　and　remendations　were　argued　and　reargued　around　Jake's　desk；　with　him　listening　and　jotting　notes　and　occasionally　indicating　he　had　heard　enough　on　one　subject　or　another。　All　of　it　went　into　a　mushrooming　document　with　the　words　〃top　secret〃　smeared　all　over。
　Vice　Admiral　Tyler　Henry　spent　some　unhappy　hours　with　Luis　Camacho。　It　had　been　quickly　established　that　the　data　contained　on　the　E…PROM　chip　from　the　crashed　prototype　was　identical　to　the　erroneous　data　contained　in　the　Pentagon　puter　file　that　had　last　been　changed　by　the　deceased　Captain　Harold　Strong。　TRX's　latest；　correct　batch　of　E…PROM　data　was　also　in　the　puter；　but　under　another　file　number。
　Three　days　and　a　dozen　phone　calls　after　he　had　sent　Lloyd　Dreyfus　to　Detroit；　Camacho　went　himself。　On　Thursday　at　noon　he　rode　the　Metro　out　to　National　Airport　and　was　sitting　in　the　president　of　AeroTech's　office　in　Detroit　at　3：50…
　Homer　T。　Wiggins　had　gotten　himself　a　lawyer；　a　manicured；　fiftyish　aristocrat　in　a　Brooks　Brothers　suit　and　dark　maroon　tie。　His　stylish　tan　and　his　gray　temples　and　sideburns　made　him　look　like　something　sent　over　from　central　casting。　〃Martin　Prescott　Nash；〃　he　pronounced　with　a　tiny　nod　at　Camacho；　then　pointedly　ignored　the　proffered　hand。　Camacho　retracted　his　spurned　appendage　and　used　a　handkerchief　to　wipe　it　carefully　as　he　sized　up　Wiggins；　who　was　apparently　trying　his　best　to　look　like　a　pillar　of　outraged　rectitude。
　〃My　client　is　one　of　the　most　respected　leading　citizens　of　this　state；〃　Nash　began　in　a　tone　that　might　e　naturally　to　a　feminist　activist　lecturing　a　group　of　convicted　rapists。　He　had　it　just　right…the　slight　voice　quaver；　the　distinct　pronunciation　of　each　word；　the　subtle　trace　of　outrage。　〃He　is　active　in　over