scoonts.theminotaur-第67部分

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rch　warrant。〃
　〃On　what　grounds？　Just　what　is　it　you're　investigating？〃
　Dreyfus　took　his　time　lighting　his　pipe。　He　puffed　experimentally　to　ensure　it　was　lit　and　drawing　properly。　Finally　satisfied；　he　tucked　his　lighter　into　a　pocket　and　took　a　deep　drag　on　the　pipe。　〃I　can't　tell　you。〃
　Homer　T。　Wiggins　had　the　look　of　a　very　sick　man。　〃Just　what　is　it　you　want　to　search　for？〃
　〃Oh！　Didn't　I　tell　you？　E…PROM　chips。〃
　Bewilderment　replaced　the　pain　on　Wiggins'　face。　〃Go　right　ahead。　Search　to　your　heart's　content。〃
　After　escorting　the　president　out　of　the　conference　room　and　posting　an　agent　to　guard　the　paper　spread　out　on　the　table；　Dreyfus　led　the　other　two　down　the　hall　and　around　the　corner　to　the　mail　room。　〃Okay；〃　he　said。　〃I　want　puter　chips。　Start　looking。〃
　It　took　an　hour。　One　agent　found　three　chips　in　a　package　without　an　address　within　fifteen　minutes；　but　it　was　an　hour　before　Dreyfus　decided　those　were　the　only　chips　in　the　room。　Back　he　went　to　see　the　president　with　the　chips　in　hand。　The　president's　eyes　expanded　dramatically。
　〃Okay。　Now　I　want　one　of　your　engineers　to　put　these　on　your　testing　machine　and　let　me　know　what　these　chips　are。〃
　With　a　glance　at　the　clock；　Wiggins　picked　up　his　phone。　A　half　hour　later　a　rumpled；　unhappy　engineer　with　long　hair　and　the　faint　odor　of　bourbon　about　him　appeared　in　the　door。　〃Sorry；　Tom；　but　these　men　want　some　tests　run　this　evening。　Apparently　it　can't　wait　until　tomorrow。〃　He　held　out　the　bag　with　the　chips　in　it。
　〃Go　with　him；　Frank；　and　explain　what　we　want；〃　Dreyfus　told　one　of　the　agents；　then　resumed　his　exploration　of　an　industry　magazine　that　resided　on　a　side　table。
　The　agent　appeared　in　the　door　at　five　minutes　before　midnight　and　motioned　to　Dreyfus；　who　joined　him　in　the　hall。　〃Okay；　Dreyfus。　Those　were　the　chips　that　they　manufactured　last　week　with　the　new　data　from　TRX。　The　engineer　is　printing　out　the　data　now；　but　it's　exactly　the　same。〃
　〃Good。　The　guy　in　the　mail　room　just　sent　the　wrong　chips　to　Tonopah。〃
　〃But　when　the　chips　reached　Tonopah；　wouldn't　TRX　test　them　before　installation？〃
　〃No　doubt　they　should　have；　but　I　suspect　someone　will　admit　that　there　was　a　mistake；　human　error；　and　somehow　or　other　the　chips　that　did　get　installed　didn't　get　checked。〃　After　all；　Dreyfus　knew；　mistakes　made　the　world　the　happy　place　it　is　today。　What　should　have　happened　and　what　did　happen　were　usually　vastly　different　things。
　〃Then　where　the　hell　did　the　bad　chips　e　from？〃
　〃From　here。　Right　here。〃　The　question　was；　how　did　AeroTech　get　the　erroneous　data　that　was　burned　into　the　bad　chips？　That　data　was　the　stuff　Admiral　Henry　said　was　in　the　Pentagon　puter；　stuff　that　Harold　Strong　had　been　the　last　man　to　revise。　A　phone　call　from　Camacho　earlier　in　the　afternoon　had　given　Dreyfus　that　fact。　And　the　bad　data　had　been　cooked　onto　chips　at　AeroTech。
　〃Well；　Frank；　it　looks　like　it's　going　to　be　a　long　night。　I　want　you　to　go　back　to　the　local　office　and　wake　up　someone　in　the　U。S。　Attorney's　office。　Have　him　get　cracking。　I　want　a　search…and…seizure　warrant　for　all　AeroTech's　travel；　long…distance…telephone　and　expense…account　records　and　all　the　data…base　files。　Until　we　have　the　warrant；　we'll　lock　this　place　up　and　post　a　guard。　Someone　around　here　has　a　nasty　little　secret。　If　we　can　find　the　smoking　gun；　we'll　know　who　and　when　and　can　save　ourselves　the　trouble　of　listening　to　a　lot　of　lies。〃
　〃You'll　need　to　e　down　to　the　office　and　write　the　affidavit。〃
　〃Yeah。〃　He　was　going　to　have　to　call　Camacho　at　home。　No　doubt　Luis　Camacho　could　think　of　a　plausible　story　for　the　judge。
　The　phone　call　came　at　2　A。M。　and　woke　Camacho　from　a　sound　sleep。　He　listened　to　Dreyfus'　recitation　of　the　events　of　the　evening　as　he　tried　to　move　noiselessly　around　the　bedroom　and　put　on　his　robe　and　slippers。　When　Dreyfus　had　pleted　his　summary；　Camacho　told　him　to　call　back　in　five　minutes。　He　was　down　in　the　kitchen　sipping　a　glass　of　milk　when　the　phone　rang　again。
　〃Dreyfus　again；　boss。　What　do　I　put　on　the　affidavit？〃
　〃The　truth。　Suspected　illegal　sale　of　classified　defense　information。　Don't　name　any　names。〃
　〃I　don't　have　any　names　to　name　yet。〃
　〃Don't　give　me　that；　you　pilgrim！〃
　〃Oh；　you　don't　want　me　to　use　Smoke　Judy's　name？　Oh！　Okay；　John　Doe　strikes　again。　Anything　else？〃
　〃Bye。〃
　〃Night；　Luis。〃
　The　lights　were　off　over　at　Albright's　house。　Camacho　checked　from　the　backyard　as　he　walked　out　to　the　swing。　It　was　a　hot；　still；　muggy　night。　He　didn't　stay　on　the　swing　long。　The　gnats　and　mosquitoes　were　still　hunting　for　rich；　red　blood。　Cursing；　Camacho　swatted　furiously　until　he　regained　the　safety　of　his　kitchen　and　got　the　sliding　glass　door　closed　behind　him。
　Wide　awake　now；　he　nipped　on　the　radio　and　twiddled　the　dial。
　They　were　still　playing　a　ball　game　out　on　the　Coast。　Baltimore　versus　Oakland。　Eleventh　inning；　three　runs　apiece…
　Jose　Canseco　was　ing　to　the　plate。　The　A's　announcer　was　all　atwitter。　Camacho　searched　through　the　cupboard　for　something　to　eat。　Didn't　she　have　some　crackers　in　here？　Cookies？　Or　did　the　teenage　food　monster　eat　every　crumb？
　He　heard　a　rapping　and　turned。　The　sliding　glass　door　was　opening。
　〃Hi；　Harlan。　e　on　in。〃
　〃Saw　your　light。　Couldn't　sleep。　The　air　conditioning　crapped　out　today　and　that　place　is　too　stuffy　to　sleep　in。〃
　〃It'd　be　better　if　there　was　a　breeze。〃
　〃What　a　climate！〃
　Canseco　took　the　first　pitch。　Strike　one。　〃Want　some　milk？〃
　〃Yeah。　That'd　be　good。　Got　any　cookies？〃
　〃I'm　looking。〃　Up　here；　behind　the　flour。　Half　a　package　of　Fig　Newtons。　He　carried　them　over　to　the　counter　where　Albright　sat　and　took　one　from　the　package　and　bit　into　it。　〃Little　stale；　but　edible。〃
　The　radio　audience　sighed。　Foul　tip　up　toward　the　press　bos。　Strike　two。　Harlan　Albright　helped　himself　to　a　cookie　while　Camacho　poured　him　a　glass　of　milk。
　Another　foul　tip。　The　sound　of　the；　bat　on　the　ball　was　plainly　audible。
　Both　men　nibbled　a　cookie　and　sipped　milk　as　they　listened。　The　announcer　was　hyping　the　moment　for　all　it　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