tc.patriotgames-第66章

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　　　　〃Indeed；〃　David　Ashley　noted。　He　didn't　react　to　this　bit　of　news　at　all。　At　least　not　physically；　but　a　switch　in　the　back　of　his　head　flipped　on。　〃Well；　that　is　one　of　the　contributions　our　friends　across　the　water　have　made。　A　few　rather　good　writers；　and　whiskey。〃
　　　　〃And　bombers；〃　Beatrix　noted。　〃I　shouldn't　want　to　travel　there　so　much　myself。〃
　　　　〃Oh；　I　take　my　holiday　there　quite　often。　The　fishing　is　marvelous。〃
　　　　〃That's　what　Lord　Louis　Mountbatten　thought；〃　the　clerk　observed。
　　　　〃How　often　does　Dennis　go　over？〃　
　　　　〃At　least　once　a　month。〃
　　　　〃Well；　on　this　Marlowe　you　have　　may　I　see　it？〃　Ashley　asked　with　an　enthusiasm　that　was　only　partially　feigned。
　　　　〃By　all　means。〃　The　girl　took　the　volume　from　a　shelf　and　opened　it　with　great　care。　〃As　you　see；　though　the　cover　is　in　poor　condition；　the　pages　are　in　a　remarkable　state　of　preservation。〃　
　　　　Ashley　hovered　over　the　book；　his　eyes　running　down　the　opened　page。　〃Indeed　they　are。　How　much　for　this　one？〃　
　　　　〃Mr。　Dennis　hasn't　set　a　price　yet。　I　believe　another　customer　is　already　very　interested　in　it；　however。〃　
　　　　〃Do　you　know　who　that　is？〃
　　　　〃No；　sir；　I　do　not；　and　I　would　not　be　able　to　reveal　his　name　in　any　case。　We　respect　our　customers'　confidentiality；〃　Beatrix　said　primly。
　　　　〃Quite　so。　That　is　entirely　proper；〃　Ashley　agreed。　〃So　when　will　Mr。　Cooley　be　back？　I　want　to　talk　to　him　about　this　myself。〃　
　　　　〃He'll　be　back　tomorrow　afternoon。〃　
　　　　〃Will　you　be　here　also？〃　Ashley　asked　with　a　charming　smile。　
　　　　〃No；　I'll　be　at　my　other　job。〃
　　　　〃Too　bad。　Well；　thank　you　very　much　for　showing　me　this。〃　Ashley　made　for　the　door。　
　　　　〃My　pleasure；　sir。〃　
　　　　The　security　officer　walked　out　of　the　arcade　and　turned　right。　He　waited　for　the　afternoon　traffic　to　clear　before　crossing　the　street。　He　decided　to　walk　back　to　Scotland　Yard　instead　of　taking　a　cab；　and　went　downhill　along　St。　James's　Street；　turning　left　to　go　around　the　Palace　to　the　east；　then　down　Marlborough　Road　to　The　Mall。
　　　　It　happened　right　there；　he　thought。　The　getaway　car　turned　here　to　make　its　escape。　The　ambush　was　a　mere　hundred　yards　west　of　where　I'm　standing　now。　He　stood　and　looked　for　a　few　seconds；　remembering。
　　　　The　personality　of　a　security　officer　is　much　the　same　all　over　the　world。　They　do　not　believe　in　coincidences；　though　they　do　believe　in　accidents。　They　lack　any　semblance　of　a　sense　of　humor　where　their　work　is　concerned。　This　es　from　the　knowledge　that　only　the　most　trusted　of　people　have　the　ability　to　be　traitors；　before　betraying　their　countries；　they　must　first　betray　the　people　who　trust　them。　Beneath　all　his　charm；　Ashley　was　a　man　who　hated　traitors　beyond　all　things；　who　suspected　everyone　and　trusted　no　one。
　　　　Ten　minutes　later　Ashley　got　past　the　security　checkpoint　at　Scotland　Yard　and　took　the　elevator　to　James　Owens'　office。　
　　　　〃That　Cooley　chap；〃　he　said。
　　　　〃Cooley？〃　Owens　was　puzzled　for　a　moment。　〃Oh；　the　book　dealer　Watkins　visited　yesterday。　Is　that　where　you　were？〃　
　　　　〃A　fine　little　shop。　Its　owner　is　in　Ireland　today；〃　Ashley　said　deadpan。
　　　　mander　Owens　nodded　thoughtfully　at　that。　What　had　been　unimportant　changed　with　a　word。　Ashley　outlined　what　he　had　learned　over　several　minutes。　It　wasn't　even　a　real　lead　yet；　but　it　was　something　to　be　looked　at。　Neither　man　said　anything　about　how　significant　it　might　be　　there　had　been　many　such　things　to　run　down；　all　of　which　to　date　had　ended　at　blank　walls。　Many　of　the　walls　had　also　been　checked　out　in　every　possible　detail。　The　investigation　wasn't　at　a　standstill。　People　were　still　out　on　the　street；　accumulating　information　　none　of　which　was　the　least　useful　to　the　case。　This　was　something　new　to　be　looked　at；　nothing　more　than　that；　but　for　the　moment　that　was　enough。

　　　　It　was　eleven　in　the　morning　at　Langley。　Ryan　was　not　admitted　to　the　meetings　between　CIA　and　FBI　people　coordinating　information　on　the　case。　Marty　Cantor　had　explained　to　him　that　the　FBI　might　be　uneasy　to　have　him　there。　Jack　didn't　mind。　He'd　get　the　information　summaries　after　lunch；　and　that　was　enough　for　the　moment。　Cantor　would　e　away　both　with　the　information　FBI　had　developed；　plus　the　thoughts　and　ideas　of　the　chief　investigators。　Ryan　didn't　want　that。　He　preferred　to　look　at　the　raw　data。　His　unprejudiced　outsider's　perspective　had　worked　before　and　it　might　work　again；　he　thought　　hoped。
　　　　The　wonderful　world　of　the　international　terrorist；　Murray　had　said　to　him　outside　the　Old　Bailey。　It　wasn't　very　wonderful；　Jack　thought；　but　it　was　a　fairly　plete　world；　including　all　of　what　the　Greeks　and　Romans　thought　the　civilized　world　was。　He　was　going　over　satellite　reconnaissance　data　at　the　moment。　The　bound　report　he　was　looking　at　contained　no　less　than　sixteen　maps。　In　addition　to　the　cities　and　roads　shown　on　them　were　little　red　triangles　designating　suspected　terrorist　training　camps　in　four　countries。　These　were　being　photographed　on　almost　a　daily　basis　by　the　photoreconnaissance　satellites　（Jack　was　not　allowed　to　know　their　number）　orbiting　the　globe。　He　concentrated　on　the　ones　in　Libya。　They　did　have　that　report　from　an　Italian　agent　that　Sean　Miller　had　been　seen　leaving　a　freighter　in　Benghazi　harbor。　The　freighter　had　been　of　Cypriot　registry；　owned　by　a　network　of　corporations　sufficiently　plex　that　it　didn't　really　matter；　since　the　ship　was　under　charter　to　yet　another　such　network。　An　American　destroyer　had　photographed　the　ship　in　what　certainly　seemed　a　chance　encounter　in　the　Straits　of　Sicily。　The　ship　was　old　but　surprisingly　well　maintained；　with　modern　radar　and　radio　gear。　She　was　regularly　employed　on　runs　from　Eastern　European　ports　to　Libya　and　Syria；　and　was　known　to　carry　arms　and　military　equipment　from　the　East　Bloc　to　client　states　on　the　Mediterranean。　This　data　had　already　been　set　aside　for　further　use。
　　　　Ryan　found　that　the　CIA　and　National　Reconnaissance　Office　were　looking　at　a　number　of　camps　in　the　North　African　desert。　A　simple　graph　acpanied　the　dated　photos　of　each；　and　Ryan　was　looking　for　a　camp　whose　apparent　activity　had　changed　the　day　that　Miller's　ship　had　docked　at　Benghazi。　He　was　disappointed　to　find　that　four　had　done　so。　One　was　known　to　be　used　by　the　Provisional　Wing　of　the　IRA　　this　datum　had　e　from　the　interrogation　of　a　convicted　bomber。　The　other　three　were　unknowns。　The　people　there　　aside　from　the　maintenance　staff　provided　by　the　Libyan　armed　forces　　could　be　identified　from　the　photos　as　Europeans　from　their　fair　skin；　but　that　was　all。　Jack　was　disappointed　to　see　that　you　couldn't　recognize　a　face　from　these　shots；　just　color　of　skin；　and　if　the　sun　was　right；　color　of　hair。　You　could　also　determine　the　make　of　a　car　or　truck；　but　not　its　identifying　tag　numbers。　Strangely；　the　clarity　of　the　photos　was　better　at　night。　The　cooler　night　air　was　less　roiled　and　did　not　interfere　with　imaging　as　much　as　in　the　shimmering　heat　of　the　day。
　　　　The　pictures　in　the　heavy　binder　that　occupied　his　attention　were　of　camps　11…5…04；　11…5…18；　and　11…5…20。　Jack　didn't　know　how　the　number　designators　had　been　arrived　at　and　didn't　really　care。　The　camps　were　all　pretty　much　the　same；　only　the　spacing　of　the　huts　distinguished　one　from　another。
　　　　Jack　spent　the　best　part　of　an　hour　looking　over　the　photos；　and　concluded　that　this　miracle　of　modern　technology　told　him　all　sorts　of　technical　things；　none　of　which　were　pertinent　to　his　purpose。　Whoever　ran　those　camps　knew　enough　to　keep　people　out　of　sight　when　a　reconsat　was　overhead　　except　for　one　which　was　not　known　to　have　photographic　capability。　Even　then；　the　number　of　people　visible　was　almost　never　the　same；　and　the　actual　occupancy　of　the　camps　was　therefore　a　matter　for　uncertain　estimation。　It　was　singularly　frustrating。
　　　　Ryan　leaned　back　and　lit　another　low…tar　cigarette　bought　from　the　kiosk　on　the　next　floor　down。　It　went　well　with　the　coffee　that　was　serving　to　keep　him　awake。　He　was　up　against　another　blank　wall。　It　made　him　think　of　the　puter　games　he　occasionally　played　at　home　when　he　was　tired　of　writing　　Zork　and　Ultima。　The　business　of　intelligence　analysis　was　so　often　like　those　puter　〃head　games。〃　You　had　to　figure　things　out；　but　you　never　quite　knew　what　it　was　that　you　were　figuring　out。　The　patterns　you　had　to　deduce　could　be　very　different　from　anything　one　normally　dealt　with；　and　the　difference　could　be　significant　or　mere　happenstance。
　　　　Two　of　the　suspected　ULA　camps　were　within　forty　miles　of　the　known　IRA　outpost。　Less　than　an　hour's　drive；　Jack　thought。　If　they　only　knew。　He　would　have　settled　for　having　the　Proves　clean　out　the　ULA；　as　they　evidently　wanted　to　do。　There　were　indications　that　the　Brits　were　thinking　along　similar　lines。　Jack　wondered　what　Mr。　Owens　thought　of　that　one　and　concluded　that　he　probably　didn't　know。　It　was　a　surprising　thought　that　he　now　had　information　that　some　experienced　players　did　not。　He　went　back　to　the　pictures。
　　　　One；　taken　a　week　after　Miller　had　been　seen　in　Benghazi；　showed　a　car　　it　looked　like　a　Toyota　Land　Cruiser　　about　a　mile　from　11…5…18；　heading　away。　Ryan　wondered　where　it　was　going。　He　wrote　down　the　date　and　time　on　the　bottom　of　the　photo　and　checked　the　cross…reference　table　in　the　front。　Ten　minutes　later　he　found　the　same　car；　the　next　day；　at　Camp　11…5…09；　a　PIRA　camp　forty　miles　from　11…5…18。
　　　　Jack　told　himself　not　to　get　overly　excited：　11…5…18　could　belong　to　the　Red　Army　Faction　of　West　Germany；　Italy's　resurgent　Red　Brigade；　or　any　number　of　other　organizations　with　which　the　PIRA　cross…pollinated。　He　still　made　some　notes。　It　was　a　〃datum；〃　a　bit　of　information　that　was　worth　checking　out。
　　　　Next　he　checked　the　occupancy　graph　for　the　camp。　This　showed　the　number　of　camp　buildings　occupied　at　night；　and　went　back　for　over　two　years。　He　pared　it　with　a　list　of　known　ULA　operations；　and　discovered　。　。　。　nothing；　at　first。　The　instances　where　the　number　of　occupied　buildings　blipped　up　did　not　correlate　with　the　organization's　known　activities　。　。　。　but　there　was　some　sort　of　pattern；　he　saw。
　　　　What　kind　of　pattern？　Jack　asked　himself。　Every　three　months　or　so　the　occupancy　went　up　by　one。　Regardless　of　the　number　of　the　people　at　the　camp；　the　number　of　huts　being　used　went　up　by　one；　for　a　period　of　three　days。　Ryan　swore　when　he　saw　that　the　pattern　didn't　quite　hold。　Twice　in　two　years　the　number　didn't　change。　And　what　does　that　mean？
　　　　〃You　are　in　a　maze　of　twisty　passages；　all　alike；〃　Jack　murmured　to　himself。　It　was　a　line　from　one　of　his　puter　games。　Pattern…recognition　was　not　one　of　his　strong　points。　Jack　left　the　room　to　get　a　can　of　Coke；　but　more　to　clear　his　head。　He　was　back　in　five　minutes。
　　　　He　pulled　the　occupancy　graphs　from　the　three　〃unknown〃　camps　to　pare　the　respective　levels　of　activity。　What　he　really　needed　to　do　was　to　make　Xerox　copies　of　the　graphs；　but　CIA　had　strict　rules　on　the　use　of　copying　machines。　Doing　it　would　take　time　that　he　didn't　want　to　lose　at　the　moment。　The　other　two　camps　showed　no　recognizable　pattern　at　all；　while　Camp　…18　did　seem　to　lean　in　that　direction。　He　spent　an　hour　doing　this。　By　the　end　of　it　he　had　all　three　graphs　memorized。　He　had　to　get　away　from　it。　Ryan　tucked　the