scoonts.theminotaur-第78章

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　30
　
　The　sky　was　crystal…clear；　a　pleasant　change　from　the　late…summer　haze。　From　this　infinite　sky　a　bright　sun　shone　down　on　a　day　not　hot　and　not　yet　cold；　a　perfect　late…September　Sunday。　The　trees　along　the　roads　where　Jake　Grafton　drove　had　just　begun　to　lose　their　green　and　don　their　autumn　colors。　Their　leaves　shimmered　and　glistened　in　the　brilliant　sun。
　Most　of　the　radio　stations　were　broadcasting　music；　but　it　was　public…service　time　on　the　others。　He　listened　a　few　moments　to　two　women　discussing　the　nuances　of　breast…feeding；　then　twirled　the　selector　knob。　The　next　station　had　a　preacher　asking　for　donations　for　his　radio　ministry。　Send　the　money　to　a　P。O。　box　in　Arkansas。　He　left　the　dial　there。　The　culminations　filled　the　car　and　drifted　out　the　open　window。　Samuel　Dodgers　would　have　liked　this　guy：　hellfire　for　sinners；　damnation　for　the　tempters。
　Toad　Tarkington　was　leaning　against　the　side　of　his　car　at　the　Denny's　restaurant　when　Jake　pulled　into　the　lot。
　〃Been　waiting　long？〃
　〃Five　minutes。〃　Toad　walked　around　the　front　of　Jake's　car　and　climbed　in。　In　spite　of　the　sun　and　seventy…five…degree　temperature；　he　was　wearing　a　windbreaker。
　〃How's　Rita？〃
　〃Doing　okay。〃
　Jake　got　the　car　in　motion。
　〃Where're　we　going？〃
　〃I　told　you　on　the　phone。　To　see　the　Minotaur。〃
　〃Yessir。　But　where　is　that？〃
　〃You'll　see。〃
　Toad　lapsed　into　silence。　He　sat　with　his　hands　in　his　lap　and　stared　straight　ahead　at　the　road。　On　the　radio　the　preacher　expounded　on　how　Bible　prophecy　had　predicted　the　popularity　of　rock　music。
　Passing　through　Middleburg　Toad　said；　〃I　think　we　ought　to　kill　him。〃
　Jake　held　out　his　right　hand；　palm　up。　Toad　just　looked　at　it。
　〃Let　me　have　it。〃
　〃What？〃
　〃Your　gun。　The　one　you　have　under　that　jacket。〃
　Toad　reached　under　the　left　side　of　his　jacket　and　extracted　a　pistol　from　his　belt；　which　he　laid　in　the　captain's　hand。　It　was　a　navy…issue　nine…millimeter　automatic；　well　oiled　but　worn。　Jake　pushed　the　button　and　the　clip　fell　out　in　his　hand。　This　he　pocketed。　Holding　the　gun　with　his　right　hand；　he　worked　the　slide　with　his　left。　A　shiny　cartridge　flipped　out　and　went　over　his　shoulder　into　the　backseat。　The　gun　he　slipped　under　the　driver's　seat。
　〃Who　is　he？〃
　〃You'll　see。〃
　〃Why　are　we　going　if　we　aren't　going　to　kill　him？〃
　〃You've　been　watching　too　many　Clint　Eastwood　movies。　And　you　ask　too　many　questions。〃
　〃So　why　did　you　call　me？〃
　〃I　didn't　want　to　go　alone。　I　wanted　a　witness。　The　witness　had　to　be　someone　who　is　basically　incorruptible；　someone　beyond　his　reach。〃
　〃I'm　not　beyond　anyone's　reach。〃
　〃Oh；　I　think　you　are；　Tarkington。　Not　physical　reach。　I'm　talking　about　moral　reach。　None　of　his　weapons　will　get　to　you。〃
　〃You　make　me　sound　retarded。　How　do　you　know　this　guy　we're　going　to　see　is　the　Minotaur？〃
　〃I　wrote　him　three　letters。　Notes。　Then　this　morning　I　called　him　and　said　I　was　dropping　by　to　chat。〃
　〃Just　friendly　as　fucking　shit。〃　Toad　thought　about　it　Jake　waited　for　him　to　ask　how　Jake　learned　the　Minotaur's　identity；　but　the　lieutenant　had　other　things　on　his　mind。　〃If　it　weren't　for　this　turd；　Camacho　would　have　arrested　Judy　months　ago　and　Rita　wouldn't　have　got　whacked　up。　Camacho　would　still　be　alive。〃　He　reached　for　the　radio　and　snapped　it　off。　〃Goddamnit；　Captain；　this　man　is　guilty。〃
　〃You　don't　know　anything；　Toad。　You　don't　know　who；　you　don't　know　why。　Since　Rita　did　get　hurt；　since　that　little　mess　in　Camacho's　basement；　I　thought　you　had　a　right　to　know。　That's　why　I　called　you。　So　you're　going　to　find　out　this　afternoon。〃
　〃Do　you　know？〃
　〃Why；　you　mean？〃
　Toad　nodded。
　Jake　thought　about　it。　〃I've　made　some　guesses。　But　they're　only　that。　Guesses　are　three　for　a　quarter。　Facts　I　don't　have。　Camacho；　though；　he　knew。〃
　〃And　he's　dead。〃
　〃Yes。〃　Jake　turned　the　radio　back　on。
　〃Are　we　going　to　turn　him　in；　call　the　cops？〃
　〃You　ask　too　many　questions。〃
　In　a　moment　Toad　said；　〃Why　do　you　listen　to　this　crap？〃　He　gestured　toward　the　radio。
　〃It's　refreshing　to　hear　a　man　who　knows　precisely　where　he　stands。　Even　if　I　don't　share　his　perch。〃
　The　leaves　of　the　trees　alongside　the　road　had　the　deep　green　hues　of　late　summer。　Cattle　and　horses　grazing；　an　occasional　female　rider　on　a　groomed　horse　in　the　manicured　meadows；　glimpses　of　huge　two…　or　three…story　mansions　set　back　well　away　from　the　public　road　at　the　end　of　long　drives；　this　countryside　was　fat。　The　contrast　between　this　rich　and　verdant　world　of　moneyed　indolence　and　the　baked；　potholed　streets　of　Washington　jarred　Jake　Grafton。　He　could　feel　his　confidence　in　his　assessment　of　the　situation　ebbing　away　as　the　car　took　them　farther　and　farther　from　the　Pentagon　and　the　navy。
　Five　miles　north　of　Middleburg　he　began　to　watch　the　left　side　of　the　road。　He　found　the　tree　and　mailbox　he　had　heard　about。　The　box　merely　had　a　number；　no　name。　He　turned　into　the　hard…packed　gravel　drive　and　drove　along　it。　Huge　old　trees　lined　the　north　side　of　the　road；　a　row　that　ended　in　a　small　grove　around　a　large　brick　house　almost　covered　with　ivy。
　Jake　Grafton　parked　right　in　front。
　〃Ring　the　bell；〃　he　muttered　at　Toad；　who　gave　several　tugs　on　a　pull。　The　sound　of　chimes　or　something　was　just　audible　through　the　door。
　Tarkington's　eyes　darted　around。
　The　door　opened。
　〃Did　you　get　lost？〃　Royce　Caplinger　asked；　and　stood　aside　to　let　the　two　men　enter。
　〃Little　longer　drive　than　I　figured；　Mr。　Secretary。〃
　Toad　gaped。
　〃Close　your　mouth；　son。　People'll　think　you're　a　politician；〃　Caplinger　muttered　and　led　the　way　down　the　hall。　They　passed　through　a　dining　room　furnished　with　massive　antique　tables　and　chairs　and　accented　with　pewter　tankards　and　plates；　and　on　through　a　kitchen　with　brick　walls　and　a　huge　fireplace　with　an　iron　kettle　hanging　in　it。　A　refrigerator；　sink；　and　conventional　stove　sat　against　the　far　wall；　on　the　other　side　of　a　work　island。
　〃Nice　place　you　have　here；〃　Jake　Grafton　said。
　〃Rustic　as　hell。　I　like　it。　Makes　me　feel　like　Thomas　Jefferson。〃
　〃He's　real　dead；〃　Toad　said。
　〃Yeah。　Sometimes　I　feel　that　way　too；　out　here　without　the　traffic　and　airplane　noise　and　five　million　people　all　scurrying。。。〃　They　were　in　the　study　now；　a　corner　room　with　high　windows　and　ceilings。　The　walls　were　covered　with　books。　Newspapers　scattered　on　the　carpet；　some　kind　of　a　red…and…blue　Oriental　thing。
　Caplinger　waved　his　hand　toward　chairs　and　sank　into　a　large　stuffed　chair　with　visibly　cracked　leather。
　He　stared　at　them。　Toad　avoided　his　gaze　and　looked　at　the　books　and　the　bric…a…brac　tucked　between　them。　By　Toad's　chair　was　a　pipe　stand。　In　it　was　a　corncob　pipe；　blackened　from　many　fires。
　〃I　wasn't　sure；　but　I　thought　it　might　be　you；　Captain；〃　Caplinger　said。　〃Didn't　recognize　your　voice　on　the　phone　this　morning。〃
　Jake　Grafton　rubbed　his　face　with　his　hands　and　crossed　his　legs。
　〃We　were　just　driving　through　the　neighborhood；　Royce；〃　Toad　said；　〃and　thought　we'd　drop　by　and　ask　why　you　turned　traitor　and　gave　all　those　secrets　to　the　Russians。　Why　did　you？〃
　Jake　caught　Toad's　eye。　He　moved　his　head　ever…so…slightly　from　side　to　side。
　Jake　addressed　Caplinger。　〃Mr。　Secretary；　we　have　a　problem。　We　know　you're　the　Minotaur　and　we　have　some　ideas；　probably　erroneous；　about　the　events　of　the　last　few　months。　Four　or　five　people　have　died　violently。　Mr。　Tarkington's　wife；　Rita　Moravia；　is　a　navy　test　pilot　who　was　seriously　injured；　almost　killed；　because　various　law　enforcement　agencies　failed　to　properly　investigate　and　make　arrests　on　information　they　had　had　for　some　time。　To　make　a　long　story　short；　we　came　here　to　ask　if　you　would　like　to　discuss　this　matter　with　us　before　we　go　to　the　authorities　and　the　press。　Do　you？〃
　〃Are　you　going　to　the　press？〃
　〃That　depends。〃
　〃You　notice　I　didn't　ask　about　the　authorities。　That　doesn't　worry　me；　but　for　reasons…well。〃
　Caplinger　slapped　his　knees　and　stood　suddenly。　Toad　started。　〃Relax；　son。　I　only　eat　lieutenants　at　the　office。　e　on；　let's　make　some　coffee。〃　He　led　the　way　into　the　kitchen。
　He　filled　a　pot　with　water。　The　pot　went　on　the　stove；　after　he　lit　the　gas　jet　with　a　match。　He　put　a　paper　filter　in　a　drip　pot　and　ladled　three　spoonfuls　of　coffee　in。　〃You　two　are　entitled　to　an　explanation。　Not　legally；　but　morally。　I'm　sorry　about　your　wife；　Lieutenant。　So　was　Luis　Camacho。　We　had　too　much　at　stake　to　move　prematurely。〃　He　shrugged。　〃Life　is　plicated。〃
　Caplinger　pulled　a　stool　from　under　the　counter　and　perched　on　it。
　〃Three　years　ago；　no；　four；　a　KGB　colonel　defected　to　the　United　States。　It　wasn't　in　the　papers；　so　I　won't　tell　you　his　name。　He　thought　he　was　brimming　with　useful　information　that　we　would　be　delighted　to　have　in　return　for　a　ton　of　money　and　a　new　life　in　the　West。　The　money　he　got　and　the　new　identity　he　got。　But　the　information　wasn't　worth　much。　He　did；　however；　have　one　piece　of　information　that　he　didn't　think　much　of　but　we　found　most　interesting。〃
　Caplinger　checked　the　water　on　the　stove。
　〃It　seems　that　one　day　about　three　years　before　he　defected　he　paid　a　visit　to　the　Aquarium；　the　Moscow　headquarters　of　the　GRU；　which　is　Soviet　military　intelligence。　His　errand　doesn't　really　matter。　During　his　two　or　three　hours　there　he　was　taken　into　the　office　of　a　general　who　was　not　expecting　pany。　On　the　desk　was　a　sheet　of　paper　with　four　names。　The　colonel　read　the　names　upside　down　before　the　general　covered　the　paper　with　a　handy　file。〃
　The　water　began　to　rumble。　Caplinger　checked　the　pot　as　he　continued。　〃Under　hypnosis　the　defector　could　remember　three　of　the　four　names。　We　recognized　one　of　them。　V。　Y。　Tsybov。〃
　The　coffeepot　began　to　whistle。　As　he　reached　for　it　Caplinger　said；　〃Vladimir　Yakovich　Tsybov　was　the　real　name　of　Luis　Camacho。〃
　He　poured　the　hot　water　into　the　drip　cone　and　watched　the　black　fluid　run　out　the　bottom。　〃Luis　Camacho　was　a　Soviet　mole；　a　deep　illegal　sent　to　this　country　when　he　was　twenty　years　old。　He　was　half　Russian　and　half　Armenian；　and　with　his　olive　skin　and　facial　characteristics；　he　seemed　a　natural　to　play　the　rote　of　a　Mexican…American。　He　knew　just　a　smattering　of　Spanish；　but　what　the　hey。　His　forefathers；　so　said　his　bio；　had　been　in　this　country　since　Texas　became　a　state。
　〃Tsybov；　now　Camacho；　attended　a　university　in　Texas　and　graduated　with　honors。　He　obtained　a　law　degree　at　night　while　he　worked　days。　The　FBI　recruited　him。
　〃It's　funny〃…Caplinger　shook　his　head…〃that　J。　Edgar　Hoover's　lily…white　FBI　needed　a　smart　Mexican…American。　But　at　the　time　Hoover　was　casting　suspicious　eyes　on　the　farm…labor　movement　in　California；　which　was　just　being　organized；　and　needed　some　Chicanes　to　use　as　undercover　agents。　So　Luis　Camacho　was　investigated　and　approved　and　recruited。〃
　Caplinger　laughed。　〃Hoover；　the　paranoid　anti…munist；　recruited　a　deep　Soviet　plant！　Oh；　they　tried　to　check　Camacho's　past；　and　the　reports　to　Washington　certainly　looked　thorough。　But　the　agents　in　the　field…all　good；　white　Anglo　Protestants　with　dark　suits　and　short　haircuts…couldn't　get　much　cooperation　from　the　Chicano　population　of　Dallas　and　San　Antonio。　So　rather　than　admit　failure　to　the　Great　One；　they　sort　of　filled　in　the　gap