scoonts.theminotaur-第25章

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　9
　
　Terry　Franklin　stood　with　his　back　against　a　pillar　and　tried　to　keep　his　face　pointed　at　Lincoln's　Second　Inaugural　Address。　The　pillar　was　the　second　one　on　the　right　after　you　came　through　the　main　entrance。　The　man　on　the　phone　had　been　very　precise　about　that。　Second　pillar　on　the　right；　on　the　side　toward　the　Inaugural　Address。
　His　eyes　kept　moving。　He　was　nervous；　so　nervous。　He　had　vomited　up　his　breakfast　an　hour　ago。。。　Not　that　person；　a　teenage　girl。　Not　that　old　fat　woman　with　the　cane　and　the　two　kids。　Maybe　that　man　in　the　suit　over　there。。。　he　could　be　FBI。　Was　he　looking　this　way？　Why　was　he　turning？　That　long…haired　guy　in　jeans。。。
　He　had　been　here　ten　minutes　and　had　already　spotted　five　men　who　could　be　FBI。　Maybe　they　all　were。　What　if　they　had　him　staked　out；　like　a　goat？　Maybe　he　should　just　leave；　walk　away　and　forget　all　of　this。　He　had　plenty　of　money。　Enough。　He　had　enough。　If　they　weren't　on　to　him　he　could　live　carefully　and　fortably　for　years　with　no　one　the　wiser。　But　what　if　they　knew？
　〃It's　one　of　the　world's　great　speeches；　isn't　it？〃
　He　turned　and　stared。　A　man；　in　his　fifties　with　a　tan　face；　stocky；　wearing　a　short　jacket；　looking　at　the　speech　carved　in　the　marble。　On　his　head　a　brimmed　hat。　What's　the　response？　Holy。。。　think！　〃Yeah。。。　uh；　but　I　think　the　Gettysburg　Address　is　better。〃
　〃Stay　twenty　feet　or　so　behind　me。〃　The　man　turned　and　walked　for　the　entrance；　not　fast；　not　slow；　just　walking。　After　he　had　gone　three　paces　Terry　Franklin　could　wait　no　longer　and　followed。
　The　man　was　only　ten　feet　ahead　going　down　the　wide；　broad　steps　in　front　of　the　Memorial。　Franklin　forced　himself　to　slow　down　and　lag　behind。　The　distance　had　increased　to　fifteen　feet　by　the　time　they　reached　the　sidewalk；　but　it　narrowed　again　as　Franklin　strode　along。　He　stood　right　behind　the　man　as　he　waited　for　a　tour　bus　to　roll　by。
　On　the　other　side　of　the　street　the　man　said；　〃Walk　beside　me。〃　He　led　Terry　along　the　north　side　of　the　Reflecting　Pool　until　he　found　an　empty　bench。　〃Here；〃　he　said。
　〃Can't　we　go　somewhere　private？〃　Franklin　asked；　still　on　his　feet　and　looking　around　in　all　directions。
　〃This　is　private。　Sit！〃　The　petty　officer　obeyed。　〃Look　at　me。　Stop　looking　around。　You're　as　nervous　as　a　schoolboy　smoking　his　first　cigarette。〃
　〃Something　went　wrong。　Really　wrong。　Why　in　hell　did　you　people　have　a　drop　in　a　black　ghetto？　Some　nigger　doper　could　have　torn　my　head　off　over　there。〃
　〃The　drops　were　selected　in　Moscow；　from　a　list。　That　drop　was　originally　chosen　for　another　agent。〃　The　man　shrugged；　resigned；　〃Bureaucrats。　These　things　happen。〃
　〃So　who　got　the　message？　Answer　me　that！　Who　saw　me　there？　The　cops？　The　FBI？　NIS？〃　The　pitch　of　his　voice　started　rising。　〃What　am　I　supposed　to　do　now？　Wait　until…〃
　〃No　one　saw　you。　Some　child　or　derelict　probably　removed　the　cigarette　pack；　or　it　was　blown　out　of　the　hole　by　the　wind。　If　you　had　been　observed　they　would　be　tailing　you　now。〃
　Franklin　couldn't　help　himself。　He　turned　his　head　quickly；　scanning。
　〃Sit　still！　You　only　call　attention　to　yourself　by　doing　that；　and　believe　me；　there　is　nothing　to　see。　You　are　clean。　I　wouldn't　be　here　if　you　weren't。〃
　Franklin　stared　at　his　feet。　He　was　so　miserable。　〃I　called　in　sick　today。〃
　〃And　you　rode　the　subways　just　as　we　instructed；　and　we　checked　you　all　the　way。　No　one　followed。　No　one　pulled　up　to　Metro　stations　to　see　if　you　got　off。　No　one　made　phone　calls　or　ran　for　a　car　after　you　passed　by。　You　are　clean。　You　are　not　being　watched。〃
　〃So　who　are　you？〃
　〃You　don't　need…〃　He　took　a　deep　breath　and　exhaled　slowly。　〃My　name　is　Yuri。〃　The　man　extracted　a　pack　of　cigarettes　from　an　inside　jacket　pocket　and　lit　one。　Marlboro　Gold　100s；　Franklin　noticed。　The　fingers　that　held　the　cigarette　were　thick；　the　nails　short。　No　rings。
　〃So　what　do　you　want　me　to　do？〃
　〃I'm　here　to　evaluate　you；　to　see　if　you　are　capable　of　going　on；　of　continuing　to　serve。〃
　Franklin　thought　about　it。　Lucy　hadn't　spoken　to　him　for　four　days　now。　God　only　knows　what　that　bitch　will　do。　Still；　ten　thousand　bucks　a　disk　was　damn　good　money。　And　if。。。
　〃If　you　wish　to　continue；　you　must　calm　down。　You　must　get　a　grip　on　yourself。〃　Yuri's　voice　was　low　and　steady。　〃Your　greatest　asset　is　that　no　one　suspects　you；　and　if　you　bee　nervous；　irrational；　irritable；　not　your　usual　self；　then　you　call　attention　to　yourself　and　make　yourself　suspect。　Do　you　understand？〃
　〃Yes。〃　He　glanced　at　the　man；　who　was　looking　at　him　carefully　with　inquisitive；　knowing　eyes。　Franklin　averted　his　gaze。
　〃We'll　give　you　a　rest；〃　Yuri　said。　〃We'll　wait　a　few　months　before　we　give　you　another　assignment。　Will　that　help？〃
　Terry　Franklin　was　torn。　He　wanted　the　money；　quickly；　but　as　he　sat　here　on　this　bench　knowing　they　could　be　watching　he　knew　just　how　close　he　was　to　the　end　of　his　emotional　rope。　For　the　first　time　in　his　life　he　realized　how　little　real　courage　he　had。　But　for　this　kind　of　money　maybe　he　could　screw　up　enough　stuff　to　keep　going；　for　a　while　at　least。　If　he　had　some　time。　He　rubbed　his　eyes；　trying　to　quell　the　tic　in　his　left　eyelid。　〃Yes；〃　he　said　slowly；　〃perhaps　it　would　be　better　to　let　things　cool　off；　settle　down。〃
　〃Okay。　So　tomorrow　you　go　back　to　work　as　usual。　Do　all　the　usual　things；　all　the　things　you　normally　do。　Keep　to　your　routine。　Do　nothing　out　of　the　ordinary。　Be　pleasant　to　your　colleagues。　Can　you　manage　that？〃
　He　considered　it；　visions　of　the　office　and　the　chief　flashing　before　his　eyes；　fear　welling　up。
　〃Yes？〃
　〃Yes。〃　He　got　it　out。
　〃Do　you　want　to　talk　about　anything　else？〃
　He　shook　his　head　no。
　〃You　are　doing　important　work。　You　have　made　a　great　contribution。　Your　work　is　known　in　Moscow。〃
　Terry　Franklin　said　nothing。　Of　course　his　work　was　known　in　Moscow。　Just　as　long　as　no　one　here　found　out　about　it；　everything　would　be　fine。　Ensuring　that　that　didn't　happen　was　the　whole　problem。
　〃To　show　you　how　valuable　your　work　is；　we　are　raising　your　pay。　To　eleven　thousand　a　disk。〃
　Franklin　just　nodded。　The　enormity　of　the　risks　he　was　running　to　earn　that　money　had　finally　sunk　in　the　last　four　days。　He　no　longer　thought　of　it　as　easy　money。　He　was　earning　every　goddamn　dime。
　〃You　may　leave　now。　Walk　up　Twenty…third　Street　to　the　Foggy　Bottom　Metro　station　and　board　there。　Goodbye。〃
　Terry　Franklin　rose　and　walked　away　without　a　backward　glance。
　
　〃How　long　you　guys　gonna　be　in　town？〃　the　driver　of　the　rental　car　shuttle　bus　asked　George　Wilson　as　they　circled　Terminal　C　at　Dallas…Fort　Worth　to　pick　up　more　people。
　〃Oh；　a　day　or　so。〃
　〃Going　home　then？〃
　〃No。　We've　got　a　couple　more　cities　to　visit。〃　Inquisitive　devil；　Jake　thought；　sitting　beside　George　and　watching　people　board。
　〃Did　you　e　here　from　home？〃　Maybe　the　driver　was　working　for　a　tip。　Or　maybe　he　was　just　bored。　He　got　the　bus　in　motion　again　as　the　people　who　had　just　boarded　tried　to　store　their　bags　in　the　bin　and　hold　on　too。
　〃Nope。　Came　from　L。A。　Been　on　the　road　a　while。〃
　〃I　knew　it！　You're　a　traveling　salesman；　huh？〃
　〃Yep。〃
　〃I　can　always　tell。〃
　At　TRX　Industries　the　six　men　were　passed　from　person　to　person　until　they　reached　the　program　manager。　His　ample　gut　hung　over　a　wide　leather　belt　secured　with　a　Budweiser　buckle。　At　least　it　appeared　to　be　a　Budweiser　buckle；　but　it　would　be　impossible　to　know　for　sure　unless　you　checked　while　you　were　shining　his　cowboy　boots。　His　name　was　Harry　Franks。
　After　the　introductions　and　how…are…yous；　he　said；　〃Do　you　guys　want　to　see　it　right　now；　or　go　to　the　conference　room　and　watch　the　video　presentation　first？〃　He　eyed　Jake。
　〃I'd　just　as　soon　see　the　plane　now。〃
　〃For　sure。　Maybe　see　the　presento　during　lunch。　We　worked　real　hard　on　it。　You　fellas　follow　me。〃
　As　they　strolled　along　he　bantered　with　Wilson　and　the　manders；　whom　he　called　by　name。　Just　a　bunch　of　good　ol'　boys。
　The　plane　was　in　the　hangar。　The　design　seemed　to　Jake　Grafton　to　be　more　conventional　than　Consolidated's。　This　plane　had　a　tandem　cockpit　and　twin　vertical　stabilizers　canted　in　at　the　top；　toward　each　other；　but　there　the　similarity　to　the　other　prototype　stopped。　This　bird　was　tactical　navy　gray；　with　engine　intakes　in　the　wing　roots　and　no　canards。　Instead　of　a　plenum　chamber　and　fairings　to　cool　the　exhaust；　the　tailpipes　were　arranged　above　a　fairing　that　might　shield　the　worst　of　the　heat　signature　from　a　ground　observer。　There　were　no　afterburners。　〃The　Soviets　are　doing　a　lot　of　work　on　air…to…air　IR　sensors　for　their　latest　generation　MiGs；〃　Smoke　Judy　said。
　〃Yeah；　probably　stole　ours；〃　somebody　grumbled。
　Jake　walked　slowly　around　the　plane；　the　chief　engineer　at　his　elbow。　On　the　left　side　of　the　fuselage；　just　behind　the　nose　radome；　was　a　place　from　which　a　twenty…millimeter…cannon　barrel　peeked　out。　〃Vulcan？〃
　〃Yep。　Six　hundred　fifty　rounds　capacity；　five　hard　points　for　missiles　and　bombs　faired　in　underneath。　This　baby'll　carry；　shoot　or　drop　anything　in　the　U。S。　inventory　or　anything　any　NATO　country's　got。〃
　〃Ranger？〃
　〃bat　radius　is　projected　at　six　hundred　nautical　miles　unrefueled。〃
　〃How　stealthy　is　this　thing？〃
　〃Well；〃　said　Harry　Franks　with　his　thumbs　in　his　belt；　〃it's　got　a　head…on　RCS　of　about　a　half　of　a　square　meter。　That　reduces　its　detection　range　pared　with　an　A…6　Intruder　by　about　forty…five　percent。　That's　naked；　as　she　sits。　Hang　bombs　and　a　belly　tank　and　the　RCS　rises；　though　it's　still　down　about　sixty　percent　from　an　A…6　loaded　for　bear。　Our　design　concept　was　to　be　as　stealthy　as　possible　and　still　e　up　with　a　mission…capable　attack　plane　with　good　range　and　flying　characteristics。　This　prototype　was　optimized　for　aircraft…carrier　operations。　It　seemed　to　us　that　if　you　guys　couldn't　get　it　aboard　ship　and　keep　it　there　for　a　reasonable　cost；　it　didn't　matter　how　stealthy　it　was。〃　He　sighed　and　scratched　his　head　and　checked　the　shine　on　the　toe　of　his　boots；　〃That　logic　didn't　impress　the　air　force；　of　course。　Not　stealthy　enough　for　them　by　a　long　shot。〃
　〃What's　this　thing　gonna　cost　Uncle　Sam？〃　Jake　already　knew　this　answer；　but　he　wanted　to　hear　Franks　say　it。
　〃Well；　there're　a　ton　of　variables。〃　Franks'　hands　went　into　his　pockets　and　he　looked　Jake　straight　in　the　eyes。　〃Optimum　production　rates；　as　is；　fifty…three　mil。〃
　〃When　did　you　stop　selling　used　cars　and　go　to　work　for　TRX？〃　Franks　chuckled　good…naturedly。
　〃If　it　were　something　under　fifty；　I　could　probably　bring　my　wife　over　and　let　her　drive　it。〃
　The　engineer's　grin　disappeared。　〃I　hear　you。　You'll　get　some　votes　in　Congress　under　fifty　that　you　won't　get　over　that　number。　But　we　already　scraped　and　cut　and　chopped　like　hell　to　get　down　to　fifty…three。〃
　〃Uh…huh。　Just　a　suggestion…we're　a　long　way　from　a　decision…but　were　I　you；　I'd　be　sweating　that　number　again　and　trying　to　shrink　it。　Sweating　it　real　hard。〃
　Later　Jake　managed　to　draw　Dalton　Harris　aside。　Harris　had　spent　most　of　his　career　in　electronic　warfare。　By　definition　he　was　an　expert　on　Soviet　radars；　their　capabilities　and　their　usage。　〃Tell　me；〃　Jake　asked；　〃what　a　forty…five　percent　reduction　in　the　detection　range　of　an　A…6　means　to　the　Soviets。　Over　fifty　percent　reduction　carryi