dk.watchers-第72部分

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beach　during　the　day　and　most　likely　weren't　allowed　at　night。。　They　were　drinking　beer　beside　a　pit　they'd　dug　in　the　sand　to　bury　their　bottles　if　they　saw　a　cop　approaching；　they　were　talking　loudly　about　girls；　and　indulging　in　horseplay。　No　one　gave　Garrison　more　than　a　glance　as　he　hurried　by。　In　California；　health…food…and…exercise　fanatics　were　as　mon　as　street　muggers　in　New　York；　and　if　an　old　man　wanted　to　take　a　cold　swim　and　then　run　on　the　beach　in　the　dark；　he　was　no　more　remarkable　or　noteworthy　than　a　priest　in　a　church。
　As　he　headed　north；　Garrison　scanned　the　park　to　his　right　in　search　of　pay　phones。　They　would　probably　be　in　pairs；　prominently　illuminated；　on　islands　of　concrete　beside　one　of　the　walkways　or　perhaps　near　one　of　the　public　fort　stations。
　He　was　beginning　to　despair；　certain　that　he　must　have　passed　at　least　one　group　of　telephones；　that　his　old　eyes　were　failing　him；　but　then　he　saw　what　he　was　looking　for。　Two　pay　phones　with　winglike　sound　shields。　Brightly　lighted。　They　were　about　a　hundred　feet　in　from　the　beach；　midway　between　the　sand　and　the　street　that　flanked　the　other　side　of　the　park。
　Turning　his　back　to　the　churning　sea；　he　slowed　to　catch　his　breath　and
　walked　across　the　grass；　under　the　wind…shaken　fronds　of　a　cluster　of　three　stately　royal　palms。　He　was　still　forty　feet　from　the　phones　when　he　saw　a　car；　traveling　at　high　speed；　suddenly　break　and　pull　to　the　curb　with　a　squeal　of　tires；　parking　in　a　direct　line　from　the　phones。　Garrison　didn't　know　who　they　were；　but　he　decided　not　to　take　any　chances。　He　sidled　into　the　cover　provided　by　a　huge　old　double…boled　date　palm　that　was；　fortunately；　not　one　of　those　fitted　with　decorative　spotlights。　From　the　notch　between　the　trunks；　he　had　a　view　of　the　phones　and　of　the　walkway　leading　out　to　the　curb　where　the　car　had　parked。
　Two　men　got　out　of　the　sedan。　One　sprinted　north　along　the　park　perimeter；　looking　inward；　searching　for　something。
　The　other　man　rushed　straight　into　the　park　along　the　walkway。　When　he　reached　the　lighted　area　around　the　phones；　his　identity　was　clear…and　shocking。
　Lemuel　Johnson。
　Behind　the　trunks　of　the　Siamese　date　palms；　Garrison　drew　his　arms　and　legs　closer　to　his　body；　sure　that　the　joined　bases　of　the　trees　provided　him　with　plenty　of　cover　but　trying　to　make　himself　smaller　nevertheless。
　Johnson　went　to　the　first　phone；　lifted　the　handset…and　tried　to　tear　it　out　of　the　coinbox。　It　had　one　of　those　flexible　metal　cords；　and　he　yanked　on　it　hard；　repeatedly；　with　little　effect。　Finally；　cursing　the　instrument's　toughness；　he　ripped　the　handset　loose　and　threw　it　across　the　park。　Then　he　destroyed　the　second　phone。
　For　a　moment；　as　Johnson　turned　away　from　the　phones　and　walked　straight　toward　Garrison；　the　attorney　thought　that　he　had　been　seen。　But　Johnson　stopped　after　only　a　few　steps　and　scanned　the　seaward　end　of　the　park　and　the　beach　beyond。　His　gaze　did　not　appear　to　rest　even　momentarily　on　the　date　palms　behind　which　Garrison　hid。
　〃You　damn　crazy　old　bastard；〃　Johnson　said；　then　hurried　back　toward　his　car。
　Crouched　in　shadows　behind　the　palms；　Garrison　grinned　because　he　knew　whom　the　NSA　man　was　talking　about。　Suddenly；　the　attorney　did　not　mind　the　chill　wind　sweeping　off　the　night　sea　behind　him。
　Damn　crazy　old　bastard　or　geriatric　James　Bond…take　your　pick。　Either　way；　he　was　still　a　man　to　be　reckoned　with。
　　
　　
　In　the　basement　switching　room　of　the　telephone　pany；　Agents　Rick　Olbier　and　Denny　Jones　were　tending　the　NSA's　electronic　tapping　and　tracing　equipment；　monitoring　Garrison　Dilworth's　office　and　home　lines。　It　was　dull　duty；　and　they　played　cards　to　make　the　time　pass：　two…hand　pinochle　and　five…hundred　rummy；　neither　of　which　was　a　good　game；　but　the　very　idea　of　two…hand　poker　repelled　them。
　When　a　call　came　through　to　Dilworth's　home　number　at　fourteen　minutes　past　eight　o'clock；　Olbier　and　Jones　reacted　with　far　more　excitement　than
　the　situation　warranted　because　they　were　desperate　for　action。　Olbier　dropped　his　cards　on　the　floor；　and　Jones　threw　his　on　the　table；　and　they　reached　for　the　two　headsets　as　if　this　was　World　War　II　and　they　were　expecting　to　overhear　a　top…secret　conversation　between　Hitler　and　Goring。
　Their　equipment　was　set　to　open　the　line　and　lock　in　a　tracer　pulse　if　Dilworth　did　not　answer　by　the　sixth　ring。　Because　he　knew　the　attorney　was　not　at　home　and　that　the　phone　would　not　be　answered；　Olbier　overrode　the　program　and　opened　the　line　after　the　second　ring。
　On　the　puter　screen；　green　letters　announced：　NOW　TRACING。
　And　on　the　open　line；　a　man　said；　〃Hello？〃
　〃Hello；〃　Jones　said　into　the　mike　on　his　headset。
　The　caller's　number　and　his　local　Santa　Barbara　address　appeared　on　the　screen。　This　system　worked　much　like　the　911　police　emergency　puter；　providing　instant　identification　of　the　caller。　But　now；　above　the　address　on　the　screen；　a　pany's　rather　than　an　individual's　name　appeared：　TELEPHONE　SOLICITATIONS；　INC。
　On　the　line；　responding　to　Denny　Jones；　the　caller　said；　〃Sir；　I'm　pleased　to　tell　you　that　you　have　been　selected　to　receive　a　free　eight…by…ten　photograph　and　ten　free　pocket　prints　of　any…〃
　Jones　said；　〃Who　is　this？〃
　The　puter　was　now　searching　data　banks　of　Santa　Barbara　street　addresses　to　cross…check　the　ID　of　the　caller。
　The　voice　on　the　phone　said；　〃Well；　I'm　calling　in　behalf　of　Olin　Mills；　sir；　the　photography　studio；　where　the　finest　quality…〃
　〃Wait　a　sec；〃　Jones　said。
　The　puter　verified　the　identity　of　the　telephone　subscriber　who　placed　the　call：　Dilworth　was　getting　a　sales　pitch；　nothing　more。
　〃I　don't　want　any！〃　Jones　said　sharply；　and　disconnected。
　〃Shit；〃　Olbier　said。
　〃Pinochle？〃　Jones　said。
　　　
　In　addition　to　the　six　men　who　had　been　at　the　harbor；　Lem　called　in　four　more　from　the　temporary　HQ　at　the　courthouse。
　He　stationed　five　along　the　perimeter　of　the　Oceanside　park；　a　few　hundred　yards　apart。　Their　job　was　to　watch　the　wide　avenue　that　separated　the　park　from　a　business　district；　where　there　were　a　lot　of　motels　but　also　restaurants；　Yogurt　shops；　gift　shops；　and　other　retail　enterprises。　All　of　the　businesses　had　phones；　of　course；　and　even　some　of　the　motels　would　have　pay　phones　in　their　front　offices；　using　any　of　them；　the　attorney　could　alert　Travis　and　Nora　Cornell。　At　this　hour　on　a　Saturday　evening；　some　stores　were　closed；　but　some　of　them…and　all　of　the　restaurants…were　open。　Dilworth　must　not　be　permitted　to　cross　the　street。
　The　sea　wind　was　stiffening　and　growing　chillier。　The　men　stood　with　their　hands　in　their　jackets；　heads　tucked　down；　shivering。
　Palm　fronds　were　rattled　by　sudden　gusts。　Tree…roosting　birds　shrilled　in　alarm；　then　resettled。
　Lem　sent　another　agent　to　the　southwest　corner　of　the　park；　out　by　the　base　of　the　breakwater　that　separated　the　public　beach　from　the　harbor　on　the　other　side。　His　job　was　to　prevent　Dilworth　from　returning　to　the　breakwater；　climbing　it；　and　sneaking　back　across　the　harbor　to　phones　in　another　part　of　the　city。
　A　seventh　man　was　dispatched　to　the　northwest　corner　of　the　park；　down　by　the　water　line；　to　be　sure　Dilworth　did　not　proceed　north　onto　private　beaches　and　into　residential　areas　where　he　might　persuade　someone　to　allow　him　to　use　an　unmonitored　phone。
　Just　Lem；　Cliff；　and　Hank　were　left　to　b　through　the　park　and　adjoining　beach　in　search　of　the　attorney。　He　knew　he　had　too　few　men　for　the　job；　but　these　ten…plus　Olbier　and　Jones　at　the　telephone　pany…were　the　only　people　he　had　in　town。　He　could　see　no　point　ordering　in　more　agents　from　the　Los　Angeles　office；　by　the　time　they　arrived；　Dilworth　would　either　have　been　found　and　stopped…or　would　have　succeeded　in　calling　the　Cornells。
　　
　　
　The　roofless　all…terrain　vehicle　was　equipped　with　a　roll　bar。　It　had　two　bucket　seats；　behind　which　was　a　four…foot…long　cargo　area　that　could　acmodate　additional　passengers　or　a　considerable　amount　of　gear。
　Garrison　was　flat　on　his　stomach　on　the　floor　of　the　cargo　hold；　under　a　blanket。　Two　teenage　boys　were　in　the　bucket　seats；　and　two　more　were　in　the　cargo　hold　on　top　of　Garrison；　sprawled　as　if　they　were　sitting　on　nothing　more　than　a　pile　of　blankets。　They　were　trying　to　keep　the　worst　of　their　weight　off　Garrison；　but　he　still　felt　half…crushed。
　The　engine　sounded　like　angry　wasps：　a　high；　hard　buzzing。　It　deafened　Garrison　because　his　right　ear　was　flat　against　the　cargo　bed；　which　transmitted　and　amplified　every　vibration。
　Fortunately；　the　soft　beach　provided　a　relatively　smooth　ride。
　The　vehicle　stopped　accelerating；　slowed；　and　the　engine　noise　dropped　dramatically。
　〃Shit；〃　one　of　the　boys　whispered　to　Garrison；　〃there's　a　guy　ahead　with　a　flashlight；　flagging　us　down。〃
　They　drew　to　a　halt；　and　over　the　whispery　idling　of　the　engine；　Garrison　heard　a　man　say；　〃Where　you　boys　headed？〃
　〃Up　the　beach。〃
　〃That's　private　property　up　there。　You　have　any　right　up　there？〃
　〃It's　where　we　live；〃　Tommy；　the　driver；　responded。
　〃Is　that　so？〃
　〃Don't　we　look　like　a　bunch　of　spoiled　rich　kids？〃　one　of　them　asked；　playing　wiseass。
　〃What　you　been　up　to？〃　the　man　asked　suspiciously。
　〃Beach　cruisin'；　hangin'　out。　But　it　got　too　cold。〃
　〃You　boys　been　drinking？〃
　You　dolt；　Garrison　thought　as　he　listened　to　the　interrogator。　These　are　teenagers　you're　talking　to；　poor　creatures　whose　hormonal　imbalances　have　thrown　them　into　rebellion　against　all　authority　for　the　next　couple　of　years。　I　have　their　sympathy　because　I'm　in　flight　from　the　cops；　and　they'll　take　my　side　without　even　knowing　what　I've　done。　If　you　want　their　cooperation；　you'll　never　get　it　by　bullying　them。
　〃Drinking？　Hell　no；〃　another　boy　said。　〃Check　the　cooler　in　back　if　you　want。　Nothing　in　it　but　Dr。　Pepper。〃
　Garrison；　who　was　pressed　up　against　the　ice　chest；　hoped　to　God　the　man　would　not　e　around　to　the　back　of　the　vehicle　and　have　a　look。　If　the　guy　got　that　close　he　would　almost　surely　see　there　was　something　vaguely　human　about　the　shape　under　the　blanket　on　which　the　boys　were　sitting。
　〃Dr。　Pepper；　huh？　What　kind　of　beer　was　in　there　before　you　drank　it　all？〃
　〃Hey；　man；〃　Tommy　said。　〃Why're　you　hassling　us？　Are　you　a　cop　or　w