scoonts.theminotaur-第15部分

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ou　have　access　to　due　to　your　security　clearance　and　job　title；　you　have　to　type　one　more　password。〃　He　wrote　it　down。　〃Matriarch。〃
　After　Jake　entered　this　code；　a　long　list　of　documents　appeared　on　the　screen。　〃Of　course；　if　you　already　have　the　document　number；　you　can　type　it　right　in　and　not　bother　calling　up　the　directory　with　the　matriarch　code　word。　Got　it？〃
　〃'Reverberation'；　'fallacy'　and　'matriarch'。　What　was　the　first　go…around　on　the　code　words？〃
　Kleinberg　laughed。　〃Well；　we　used　puter…generated　random　series　of　letters。　They　weren't　words；　just　a　series　of　letters。　But　people　couldn't　remember　them　and　took　to　writing　them　down　in　notebooks；　checkbooks　and　so　forth。　So　we　tried　plan　two。　This　is　plan　three。〃
　Kleinberg　took　a　lighter　from　his　pocket　and　held　the　flame　under　the　piece　of　paper　on　which　he　had　written　the　code　words。
　It　flared。　Just　before　the　fire　reached　his　fingers；　he　dropped　the　paper　on　the　plastic　carpet　protector　under　the　chair　and　watched　the　remnant　turn　to　ash；　which　he　crushed　with　his　shoe。　Kleinberg　rubbed　his　hands　and　smiled。　〃Now　we　begin。〃　He　spent　the　next　hour　showing　Jake　how　to　create；　edit　and　access　documents　on　this　list。　When　he　had　finished　answering　Jake's　questions；　he　flipped　the　machine　off　and　gave　Jake　one　of　his　cards。　〃Call　me　when　you　have　questions；　or　ask　one　of　the　guys　here　who's　been　around　a　while。〃
　〃Uh…huh。〃
　〃Wele　to　Washington。〃　Kleinberg　shook　hands；　hoisted　his　leather　bag　and　left。
　Jake　began　to　lock　away　the　papers　on　his　desk。　While　he　was　here　he　might　as　well　look　again　at　that　two…year…old　book　of　Harold　Strong's。
　He　opened　the　upper　left　drawer。　The　matchbooks　and　rubber　bands　and　other　stuff　were　still　there；　but　the　book　wasn't。　He　looked　in　every　drawer　in　the　desk。　Nope。　It　was　gone。
　
　Henry　Jenks　dropped　Toad　at　the　BOQ　at　11　P。M。　After　he　filled　out　the　paperwork　at　the　desk。　Toad　went　up　to　his　room　and　crashed。
　The　following　day　was　a　copy　of　the　previous　afternoon：　an　hour　in　the　simulator；　an　hour　at　the　blackboard；　then　back　to　the　simulator。　By　noon　he　was　navigating　from　one　large　radar…reflective　target　to　another。　In　the　afternoon　he　ran　his　first　attack。
　During　all　his　hours　in　the　simulator　the　canopy　remained　open　and　Jenks　stood　there　beside　him　talking　continuously；　prompting　him；　pointing　out　errors。　Running　the　system　in　the　simulator　wasn't　too　difficult　with　Jenks　right　there。
　Toad　wasn't　fooled。
　At　five　hundred　feet　above　hostile　terrain　on　a　stormy　night　with　the　tracers　streaking　over　the　canopy　and　the　missile　warning　lights　flashing；　this　bombardier…navigator　business　was　going　to　be　a　whole　different　ball　game。　The　pilot　would　be　slamming　the　plane　around；　pulling　on　that　stick　like　it　was　the　lever　to　open　heaven's　gate。　And　the　BN　had　to　sit　here　delicately　tweaking　the　radar　and　infrared　and　nursing　the　puter　and　laser　while　trying　not　to　vomit　into　his　oxygen　mask。　Toad　knew。　He　had　been　there　in　the　backseat　of　an　F…14。　The　best　way　to　team　this　stuff　was　by　repetition。　Every　task；　every　adjustment；　the　correction　for　every　failure…it　all　had　to　be　automatic。　If　you　had　to　think　about　it；　you　didn't　know　it　and　you　sure　as　hell　wouldn't　remember　it　when　you　were　riding　this　bucking　pig　up　the　devil's　asshole。
　At　five　in　the　evening　Jenks　drove　him　back　to　the　BOQ。　〃Tonight　you　study　the　NATOPS。〃　NATOPS…Naval　Air　Training　and　Operating　Procedures…was　the　Book　on　the　airplane；　the　navy　equivalent　to　the　air　force　Dash　One　manual。　〃Learn　the　emergency　procedures。　Tomorrow　you　and　Moravia　will　be　in　the　simulator　together。　We'll　run　some　attacks　and　pop　some　emergencies　and　failures。　The　next　day　you　fly　the　real　airplane。　Study　hard。〃
　〃Thanks；　sadist。〃
　〃You're　all　right；　Tarkington；　even　if　you　are　a　fighter　puke。〃
　Toad　slammed　the　car　door　and　stomped　into　the　BOQ。　He　was　whipped；　drained。　Maybe　he　ought　to　go　jogging　to　clean　the　pipes。
　In　his　room　he　changed　into　his　sweat　togs。　The　wind　ing　in　off　Puget　Sound　had　a　pronounced　bite　and　the　sun　was　already　settling；　so　he　added　a　second　heavy　sweatshirt。　He　was　leaning　into　a　post　supporting　the　roof　over　the　walkway　leading　to　the　officers'　club　when　a　gray　navy　pickup　pulled　up　in　front　of　the　BOQ　and　dropped　Rita　Moravia。　She　was　wearing　an　olive…drab　flight　suit　and　flight　boots。
　〃If　you're　going　running；〃　she　called；　〃will　you　wait　for　me？〃
　〃Sure。〃　Toad　continued　to　stretch　his　right　leg；　the　one　with　the　loins　in　it。　He　hopped　around　and　trotted　in　place　a　few　steps。　The　leg　was　ready。　On　the　grass　was　a　bronze　bust：　Lieutenant　Mike　McCormick；　A…6　pilot　killed　over　North　Vietnam。　The　BOQ　and　officers'　club　were　named　for　him。
　Toad　was　standing　beside　the　bust　watching　the　A…6s　in　the　landing　pattern　overhead　and　listening　to　the　throaty　roar　of　their　engines　when　Moravia　came　out。　She　had　her　hair　pulled　back　into　the　ponytail。　〃Which　way　do　you　want　to　run？〃　she　asked。
　〃I　dunno。　How　about　north　along　the　beach？〃　They　started　off。　〃Were　you　flying　today？〃
　〃Yes。　Twice。〃　She　picked　up　the　pace　to　a　fast　trot。
　〃How'd　you　like　it？〃
　〃Old　airframe；　not　as　fast　and　agile　as　the　Hornet；　of　course；　but　with　better　range　and　more　lifting　capacity。　More　plex。〃　An　A…6　went　over　and　she　waited　for　the　roar　to　fade。　〃It's　a　nice　plane　to　fly。〃
　On　the　western　side　of　the　road　was　a　beach　littered　with　driftwood　and；　beyond；　the　placid　surface　of　the　sound。　Just　visible　in　the　fading　glow　of　the　sunset　was　an　island　five　or　six　miles　away…it　was　hard　to　tell。　Silhouettes　of　mountains　stood　against　the　sky　to　the　southwest。　〃It's　pretty　here；　isn't　it？〃
　〃Oh　yes。　Wait　till　you　see　it　from　the　air。〃
　〃Why'd　you　get　into　flying　anyway？〃
　She　shot　him　a　hard　glance　and　picked　up　the　pace。　He　stayed　with　her。　She　was　going　too　fast　for　conversation。　The　paved　road　ended　and　they　were　on　gravel　when　she　said；　〃Four　miles　be　enough？〃
　〃Yep。〃　Well；　he　had　stepped　on　it　that　time；　got　it　out　and　dragged　it　in　the　din　and　tromped　all　over　it。　What's　a　pretty　girl　like　you　doing　in　this　dirty；　sweaty　business　anyway；　sweetie？　Ye　gods。　Toad；　next　you'll　be　asking　about　her　sign。
　On　the　inbound　leg　they　stopped　running　several　blocks　short　of　the　BOQ　and　walked　to　cool　down。　〃I　got　into　flying　because　I　thought　it　would　be　a　challenge；〃　Rita　said；　watching　him。
　Toad　just　nodded。　In　the　lobby　she　asked；　〃Want　to　change　and　get　some　dinner？〃
　〃Thanks　anyway。　I　gotta　study。〃
　As　he　showered　Toad　realized　that　somewhere　on　the　run　he　had　jettisoned　his　nascent　plan　to　bed　Rita　Moravia。　The　Good　Lord　just　doesn't　have　any　mercy　for　you；　Toad；　my　man。　Not　the　tiniest　pinch。
　
　6
　
　〃The　admiral　can　see　you　in　thirty　minutes；　sir。〃
　〃Thanks。〃　Jake　Grafton　cradled　the　phone　and　doodled　on　his　legal　pad。　It　was　almost　10：30　and　Smoke　Judy　was　at　his　desk。　He　had　said　good　morning　to　Jake　and　spent　an　hour　on　the　phone；　and　now　seemed　to　be　busy　on　the　puter　with　a　report；　but　he　hadn't　mentioned　his　sojourns　of　yesterday。　Jake　had　toyed　with　the　idea　of　questioning　Judy　about　where　he　was　yesterday；　then　decided　against　it。　Whatever　answer　Judy　gave；　truth　or　lie；　what　would　that　prove？　Would　a　lie　incriminate　him？　In　what？　A　murder？　Espionage？　If　Judy　told　the　truth；　what　would　the　truth　be？　That　he　went　to　West　Virginia　yesterday…so　what？　And　if　he　denied　it…what　then？　No；　Jake　didn't　know　enough　to　even　ask　an　intelligent　question。
　Vice　Admiral　Henry；　however；　was　in　a　more　interesting　position。　His　fairy　tale　about　deflecting　a　murder　investigation　left　him　vulnerable。　Vulnerable　to　what？　To　more　questions。　He　would　have　to　answer　reasonable　questions　or。。？　Or？
　I　can't　recognize　truth　when　I　hear　it；　Jake　mused。　What　the　hell　kind　of　job　is　this？　Can　I　trust　the　admiral？
　Do　I　have　a　choice？　He　tossed　the　pencil　on　the　desk　and　rubbed　his　eyes。　He　knew　the　answer　to　that　one。　He　had　no　choice　at　all。　He　stood　and　stretched。　His　doodles　caught　his　eye。　Airplanes。　Gliders。　Long　wings。
　In　front　of　the　breezeway　between　JP…1　and　JP…2；　he　caught　the　shuttle　bus　and　rode　it　over　to　the　Pentagon。　The　chief　offered　him　a　cup　of　coffee；　which　he　accepted。　Then　he　waved　him　in　to　see　Henry；　who　was　busy　locking　his　desk　and　office　safe。
　〃Good　morning；　sir。〃
　〃Morning。　Don't　sit。　We're　going　to　a　meeting　with　SECNAV。〃
　〃Okay。〃　Jake　had　never　met　F。　George　Ludlow；　but　he　had　heard　a　lot　about　him。　Scion　of　an　old　New　England　family…was　there　any　other　kind？…Ludlow　was　in　his　early　forties；　a　Vietnam　vet　with　a　B。S。　from　Yale　and　a　business　doctorate　from　Harvard。　He　had　spent　ten　years　knocking　around　the　gray…suit　defense　think　tanks　before　being　tapped　as　Secretary　of　the　Navy　three　years　ago　by　his　father…in…law；　Royce　Caplinger；　the　Secretary　of　Defense。　Nepotism；　fumed　the　Senate　Democrats；　but　they　confirmed　the　nomination　anyway：　Ludlow's　credentials　were　as　bluechip　as　his　family　connections　and　dividends　from　the　family　investment　trusts。
　〃What　this　meeting　about；　sir？〃　Jake　asked　as　he　and　the　admiral　walked　the　outer　ring　of　the　Pentagon…the　B…ring…toward　Ludlow's　office。
　〃Don't　know。　When　Ludlow　wants　you；　he　summons　you…　now。〃
　It　was　mon　knowledge　that　Ludlow　had　vigorous　hands　on　the　throttle　and　helm　of　the　navy。　He　had　firm　ideas　about　what　ships　and　weapons　systems　the　navy　needed；　how　they　should　be　acquired；　how　they　should　be　employed。　With　his　insider's　knowledge　of　Washington　and　the　upper　reaches　of　the　defense　establishment　he　outraged　most　admirals。　Those　he　couldn't　win　over　he　shuffled　off　to　sinecures　or　retirement。　Unlike　the　usual　dilettante　who　spent　a　year　or　two　as　a　service　secretary　on　his　way　to　a　bright　political　future　or　the　vice　presidency　of　a　major　defense　contractor；　Ludlow　behaved　exactly　like　a　man　whose　present　job　was　the　fulfillment　of　a　lifelong　quest。　If　Ludlow　had　any　other　political　or　business　ambitions；　no　hint　of　them　had　percolated　down　to　Jake's　level。　His　saving　grace；　or　so　it　appeared　to　the　rank　and　file；　was　his　strong　mitment　to　the　navy　as　an　institution；　to　its　people　and　its　traditions。　This　was　probably　one　of　the　reasons　for　unease　at　the　flag　level；　since　the　admirals　were　unwilling　to　defer　to　anyone　as　keeper　of　th