scoonts.theminotaur-第68部分

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　aviation。　Those　who　flew　the　planes　gave　and　demanded　this　friendship　of　each　other。
　That　first　evening　alone　Toad　tossed　the　cue　ball　down　the　table　and　watched　it　carom　off　the　rails。　He　looked　at　the　empty　seats　and　the　blank　TV　screen　and　the　racks　of　cue　sticks；　and　trudged　off　to　his　room　to　call　Rita's　parents　yet　again。　He　was　talking　to　them　twice　a　day　now。　He　was　also　calling　his　own　folks　out　in　Santa　Barbara　once　a　day；　keeping　them　updated　on　Rita　and　talking　just　to　hear　their　voices。　Likely　as　not　his　parents　were　slightly　baffled　and　secretly　pleased　by　this　attention　from　the　son　who　usually　phoned　once　a　month　and　never　wrote　because　he　had　said　everything　in　the　phone　call。
　It's　funny；　he　mused；　that　now；　now。　with　Rita　in　such　bad　shape；　the　sound　of　his　mother's　voice　was　so　forting。　After　the　second　day　alone；　it　finally　occurred　to　him　that　the　problem　was　that　he　had　almost　nothing　to　do。　He　was　standing　in　the　hangar　watching；　listening；　but　he　had　no　people　to　supervise　or　reports　to　write　or　memos　due；　so　he　merely　observed　with　his　mind　in　neutral。　At　the　hospital　he　sat　beside　Rita；　who　was　moved　to　a　private　room；　and　did　a　monologue　for　her　or　stared　at　the　wall。　And　thought。　He　pondered　and　thought　and　mused　some　more。
　That　evening　on　the　way　to　the　hospital　he　stopped　by　the　exchange　and　bought　a　spiral　notebook。　In　Rita's　room　he　began　to　write。　〃Dear　Rita；〃　he　began；　then　sucked　on　the　pen　and　looked　out　the　window。　He　dated　the　page。　Dear；　dear　Rita：　〃Someday　you　will　wake；　and　when　you　do；　I　will　give　you　this　letter。〃
　He　wrote；　sometimes　for　several　hours　at　a　sitting。　He　started　out　writing　about　Toad　Tarkington：　growing　up　in　southern　California　with　the　beach　and　surf　just　down　the　road；　baseball　and　football　in　the　endless　summer；　the　hard…bodied　bimbettes　chased　and　wooed　and　sometimes　conquered。　He　described　how　he　felt　about　his　first　true　love；　and　his　second　and　third　and　fourth。　He　devoted　page　after　page　to　college　and　grades　and　all…night　parties。
　Finally　he　decided　he　had　squeezed　the　sponge　pretty　dry　on　his　youth；　so　he　turned　to　the　navy。　Without　his　even　realizing　it；　his　style　changed。　Instead　of　the　light；　witty；　listen…to…this　style　he　had　adopted　for　tales　of　his　youth；　he　wrote　seriously　now；　with　no　attempt　at　humor。　Facts；　impressions；　opinions；　ambitions；　they　came　pouring　from　his　pen。
　In　four　days　the　TRX　crew　finished　their　work　and　mysteriously　vanished。　Several　days　later　a　group　of　officers　and　civilians　from　Washington　arrived　unannounced。　They　poked　and　prodded　the　dismembered；　blackened　carcass　and　photographed　everything；　then　climbed　back　into　the　waiting　planes　parked　on　the　baking　ramp　in　front　of　base　ops。　Toad　was　left　with　his　solitude　and　his　writing。
　So　the　days　passed；　one　by　one；　as　Rita　slept。
　
　In　Washington；　Jake　Grafton　was　also　writing；　though　he　went　about　it　in　a　vastly　different　manner　than　Tarkington。　He　dictated　general　ideas　into　a　recording　machine　and　gave　the　tapes　to　his　subordinates；　who　expanded　the　ideas　into　smooth；　detailed　drafts　which　Jake　then　worked　on　with　a　pencil。　Flight　test　data　and　observations　were　marshaled；　correlated　and　piled。　Graphs　were　drawn　and　projections　made　about　performance；　maintenance　man…hours；　mean　time　between　failures　and；　of　course；　costs。　Money　dripped　from　every　page。　Every　officer　in　the　group　had　an　input；　and　conclusions　and　remendations　were　argued　and　reargued　around　Jake's　desk；　with　him　listening　and　jotting　notes　and　occasionally　indicating　he　had　heard　enough　on　one　subject　or　another。　All　of　it　went　into　a　mushrooming　document　with　the　words　〃top　secret〃　smeared　all　over。
　Vice　Admiral　Tyler　Henry　spent　some　unhappy　hours　with　Luis　Camacho。　It　had　been　quickly　established　that　the　data　contained　on　the　E…PROM　chip　from　the　crashed　prototype　was　identical　to　the　erroneous　data　contained　in　the　Pentagon　puter　file　that　had　last　been　changed　by　the　deceased　Captain　Harold　Strong。　TRX's　latest；　correct　batch　of　E…PROM　data　was　also　in　the　puter；　but　under　another　file　number。
　Three　days　and　a　dozen　phone　calls　after　he　had　sent　Lloyd　Dreyfus　to　Detroit；　Camacho　went　himself。　On　Thursday　at　noon　he　rode　the　Metro　out　to　National　Airport　and　was　sitting　in　the　president　of　AeroTech's　office　in　Detroit　at　3：50…
　Homer　T。　Wiggins　had　gotten　himself　a　lawyer；　a　manicured；　fiftyish　aristocrat　in　a　Brooks　Brothers　suit　and　dark　maroon　tie。　His　stylish　tan　and　his　gray　temples　and　sideburns　made　him　look　like　something　sent　over　from　central　casting。　〃Martin　Prescott　Nash；〃　he　pronounced　with　a　tiny　nod　at　Camacho；　then　pointedly　ignored　the　proffered　hand。　Camacho　retracted　his　spurned　appendage　and　used　a　handkerchief　to　wipe　it　carefully　as　he　sized　up　Wiggins；　who　was　apparently　trying　his　best　to　look　like　a　pillar　of　outraged　rectitude。
　〃My　client　is　one　of　the　most　respected　leading　citizens　of　this　state；〃　Nash　began　in　a　tone　that　might　e　naturally　to　a　feminist　activist　lecturing　a　group　of　convicted　rapists。　He　had　it　just　right…the　slight　voice　quaver；　the　distinct　pronunciation　of　each　word；　the　subtle　trace　of　outrage。　〃He　is　active　in　over　a　dozen　civic　organizations；　gives　over　half　a　million　dollars　a　year　to　charity　and　provides　employment　to　six　hundred　people；　every　one　of　whom　pays　the　taxes　that　provide　salaries　for　you　gentlemen。〃　He　had　just　the　slightest　little　bit　of　difficulty　pronouncing　the　word　〃gentlemen。〃
　Nash　continued；　listing　the　contributions　Homer　T。　Wiggins　had　made　to　the　arts；　the　people　of　the　great　state　of　Michigan　and　the　human　race。　Camacho　settled　into　his　chair　and　let　him　go；　occasionally　glancing　at　his　watch。
　Dreyfus　waited　until　he　had　Camacho's　eye；　then　winked　broadly。　Wiggins　saw　the　gesture　and　winced。
　Finally；　as　Nash　paused　for　breath；　Camacho　asked；　〃Are　you　a　criminal　lawyer？〃
　〃Well；　no；〃　admitted　the　pleader。　〃I　specialize　in　corporate　law。　My　firm　has　advised　Homer　for　ten　years　now。　We　handled　his　last　stock　offering；　over　ten　million　shares　on　the　American　Exchange；　and　the　subordinated　debenture…〃
　〃He　needs　a　criminal　lawyer。〃
　Deflated；　Nash　looked　to　his　left；　right　at　the　pasty；　perspiring　face　of　leading　citizen　Homer　T。　Wiggins；　who　was　staring　at　Camacho　and　licking　his　lips。
　〃Read　him　his　rights；　Dreyfus。〃
　Both　agents　knew　this　had　been　done　on　one　prior　occasion；　yesterday；　and　Wiggins　had　declined　to　answer　questions　unless　his　lawyer　was　present。　Dreyfus　removed　the　Miranda　card　from　his　credentials　folder　and　read　it　yet　again；　slowly；　with　feeling。　The　warning　usually　had　a　profound　effect　on　men　who　had　never　in　their　lives　thought　of　themselves　as　criminals。　All　the　color　drained　from　Wiggins'　face　and　he　began　to　breathe　in　short；　rapid　breaths。　It　was　as　if　he　could　hear　the　pillars　crumbling　and　see　the　plaster　falling　from　the　ceiling　of　that　magnificent　edifice　of　position；　responsibility　and　respect　that　had　housed　him　so　well　all　these　years。
　As　Dreyfus　put　the　card　away；　Wiggins　squeaked；　〃You　going　to　arrest　me？〃
　〃That　depends。〃
　〃On　what？〃　said　Martin　Prescott　Nash；　who　was　looking　a　little　pale　himself。
　〃On　whether　or　not　I　get　some　truthful　answers　to　the　questions　I　came　here　to　ask。〃
　〃Are　you　offering　immunity？〃
　〃No。　I　have　no　such　authority。　I　am　here　to　question　Mr。　Wiggins　as　a　principal　about　bribery　of　a　government　employee　and　illegally　obtaining　classified　defense　information。　Both　charges　are　felonies。　If　you　want　to　talk　to　us；　Mr。　Wiggins；　we'll　listen。　We　may　or　may　not　arrest　you　today。　I　haven't　decided。　Anything　you　say　will　be　included　in　our　reports　and　will　be　conveyed　to　the　Justice　Department。　The　attorneys　there　may　or　may　not　use　it　as　evidence　against　you。　They　may　take　it　into　account　when　they　are　trying　to　decide　if　prosecution　is　warranted；　or　they　may　not。　They　may　consider　your　cooperation　when　they　make　a　sentencing　remendation　after　your　conviction…if　there　is　one…or　again；　they　may　not。　I　have　nothing　to　offer。　You　have　the　right　to　remain　silent；　but　you've　heard　your　rights　and　your　attorney　is　here　with　you。　Or　you　can　decide　to　cooperate　with　the　government　that　you　and　your　six　hundred　employees　support　with　your　tax　dollars　by　telling　us　the　truth。　It's　up　to　you。〃
　Nash　wanted　to　talk　to　his　client　in　private。　The　agents　went　out　into　the　hall　and　walked　toward　the　cafeteria。
　〃Have　you　really　got　it？〃　Camacho　asked　Dreyfus…
　〃Chapter　and　verse。　He　turned　in　expense…account　reports　for　every　trip　to　Washington；　including　credit…card　receipts　for　dinners　with　the　name　Thomas　H。　Judy　on　the　back　as　a　business　guest　in　his　own　handwriting。　Apparently　he　didn't　want　any　more　trouble　with　those　IRS　troglodytes　about　his　expense　account。〃
　〃Can　you　tie　him　personally　to　the　data？〃
　〃Yep。　An　engineer　here　got　the　puter　printout　about　seven　months　ago…Wiggins　himself　handed　it　to　him。　Told　him　to　make　up　some　experimental　chips　to　see　if　they　could　validate　the　method　and　their　puter　stuff；　and　to　develop　a　cost　projection。　All　of　which　he　did。　Other　people　swear　to　that。　I've　got　a　sworn　statement　in　writing　from　this　engineer　burning　Wiggins　and　a　cassette　recording　of　him　telling　it　to　me　originally。　And　the　NSA　puter　records　show　Judy　as　one　of　the　officers　who　had　routine　access　to　the　E…PROM　data。　We've　got　Homer　T。　cold　as　a　frozen　steak。〃
　〃Is　this　the　right　time？〃　Camacho　muttered；　thinking　aloud。
　〃Well；　shit！〃　Dreyfus　hissed。　〃I　don't　know！　I　just　dig　this　stuff　up。　You…〃
　Camacho　silenced　him　with　a　glance。　Dreyfus　lit　his　pipe　and　walked　along　with　smoke　billowing。
　〃So　why　the　big　screw…up　with　the　chips？〃　Camacho　asked　when　they　reached　the　cafeteria；　which　housed　three　microwaves　and　a　wall　full　of　vending　machines。
　〃Oh；　AeroTech　got　in　four　or　five　different　data　dumps　from　TRX　and　even　one　from　the　Pentagon；　all　in　the　last　three　months。　The　first　three　chips　just　sat　there　on　the　engineer's　desk。　No　one　is　sure　how　or　when　they　went　to　the　mail　room。　No　one　knows　how　they　got　mixed　up　with　an　outgoing　shipment。　The　mail…room　guy　is　from　Haiti；　with　a　heavy　accent。　He　denies　everything。　Rumor　has　it　he　used　to　be　a　medical　doctor　in　his　former　life。〃　Dreyfus　shrugged。　〃Looks　l