cyclops-第32部分

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　stars　on　his　shoulders；　and　was　quite　handsome　in　a　Gregory　Peck　way。　The　sergeant　acpanied　him　across　a　sidewalk　to　a　waiting　Air　Force　blue　sedan　and　smartly　opened　the　rear　door。
　　　　Something　about　the　scene　snapped　a　string　in　Hagen's　mind。　He　sat　up　straight　and　turned　around　to　stare　boldly　out　the　side　window。　Fisher　was　in　the　act　of　bending　over　to　enter　the　backseat　of　his　car；　holding　a　briefcase。　That　was　it。　The　briefcase　wasn't　held　by　the　handle　as　it　would　normally　be　carried。　Fisher　was　clutching　it　like　a　football；　under　his　arm　and　against　the　side　of　his　chest。
　　　　Hagen　had　no　qualms　against　changing　his　carefully　laid　out　plan　in　midstream。　He　improvised　on　the　spot；　quickly　forgetting　about　searching　Fisher's　mand　office。　If　his　sudden　creative　spark　didn't　pan　out；　he　could　always　go　back。　He　started　the　engine　and　moved　off　across　the　parking　lot　behind　the　general's　car。
　　　　Fisher's　driver　pulled　across　the　intersection　and　turned　onto　Highway　94　under　a　yellow　light。　Hagen　hung　back　until　the　traffic　thinned。　Then　he　ran　the　red　light　and　accelerated　until　he　was　close　enough　behind　the　Air　Force　blue　car　to　make　out　the　driver's　face　in　its　rearview　mirror。　He　held　that　position；　watching　to　see　if　there　was　any　eye　contact。　There　was　none。　The　sergeant　was　not　a　suspicious　sort　and　never　checked　his　tail。　Hagen　rightly　assumed　the　man　had　no　training　in　defensive　driving　tactics　against　possible　terrorist　attack。
　　　　After　a　slight　bend　in　the　highway　the　lights　of　a　shopping　center　came　into　view。　Hagen　glanced　at　his　speedometer。　The　sergeant　was　cruising　along　five　miles　an　hour　below　the　posted　speed　limit。　Hagen　pulled　into　the　outer　lane　and　passed。　He　speeded　up　slightly　and　then　slowed　down　to　turn　into　the　driveway　of　the　shopping　center；　gambling　that　one　of　the　stores　sold　liquor；　gambling　that　General　Fisher　hadn't　forgotten　his　wife's　instructions　to　buy　the　bottle　of　sherry。
　　　　The　Air　Force　car　drove　on　past。
　　　　〃Damn！〃　Hagen　muttered　to　himself。　It　struck　him　that　any　serviceman　would　have　purchased　liquor　at　his　base　post　exchange；　where　it　was　sold　for　much　less　than　at　a　retail　store。
　　　　Hagen　was　stalled　for　a　few　seconds　behind　a　woman　trying　to　back　out　of　a　parking　slot。　When　he　finally　broke　free；　he　burned　rubber　swinging　from　the　driveway　onto　the　road。　Luckily；　Fisher's　driver　had　caught　a　red　light　at　the　next　intersection　and　Hagen　was　able　to　catch　and　pass　him　again。
　　　　He　pressed　the　accelerator　to　the　floor；　trying　to　put　as　much　distance　as　he　could　between　them。　In　two　miles　he　turned　into　the　narrow　road　leading　to　the　main　gate　of　Peterson　Air　Force　Base。　He　showed　his　security　clearance　to　the　Air　Policeman　standing　stiffly；　wearing　a　white　helmet；　matching　silk　scarf　at　the　neck；　and　a　black　leather　side　holster　that　contained　a　pearl…handled　revolver。
　　　　〃Where　can　I　find　the　PX？〃　Hagen　asked。
　　　　The　AP　pointed　up　the　road。　〃Straight　ahead　to　the　second　stop　sign。　Then　left　toward　the　water　tower。　A　large　gray　building。　You　can't　miss　it。〃
　　　　Hagen　thanked　him　and　moved　away　just　as　Fisher's　car　pulled　up　behind　and　was　smartly　waved　on　through　the　gate。　Taking　his　time；　he　stayed　within　the　base　speed　limit　and　eased　into　the　post　exchange　parking　area　only　fifty　feet　ahead　of　Fisher。　He　stopped　between　a　jeep　Wagoneer　and　a　Dodge　pickup　truck　with　a　camper　that　effectively　hid　most　of　his　car　from　view。　He　slipped　from　behind　the　wheel；　turning　off　the　lights　but　keeping　the　engine　running。
　　　　The　general's　car　had　stopped；　and　Hagen　unhurriedly　approached　it　in　a　direct　line；　wondering　if　Fisher　would　get　out　and　buy　the　sherry　or　send　the　sergeant　to　run　the　errand。
　　　　Hagen　smiled　to　himself。　He　should　have　known　it　was　a　preordained　conclusion。　The　general；　of　course；　sent　the　sergeant。
　　　　Hagen　reached　the　car　at　nearly　the　same　moment　as　the　sergeant　walked　through　the　door　into　the　PX。　One　quick　scan　to　see　if　some　bored　soul　waiting　in　a　parked　car　might　be　idly　staring　in　his　direction　or　a　shopper　from　the　PX　pushing　a　grocery　cart　close　by。　The　old　cliché　〃The　coast　is　clear〃　ran　through　his　mind。
　　　　Without　the　slightest　hesitation　or　wasted　movement；　Hagen　slipped　a　weighted　rubber　sap　from　a　specially　sewn　pocket　under　one　arm　of　his　windbreaker；　jerked　open　the　rear　car　door；　and　swung　his　arm　in　a　short　arc。　No　words　of　greeting；　no　trivial　conversation。　The　sap　caught　Fisher　precisely　on　the　point　of　his　jaw。
　　　　Hagen　snatched　the　briefcase　from　the　general's　lap；　slammed　the　door；　and　walked　casually　back　to　his　car。　From　start　to　finish　the　action　had　taken　no　more　than　four　seconds。
　　　　As　he　drove　away　from　the　PX　toward　the　main　gate　he　ticked　off　the　timing　sequence　in　his　mind。　Fisher　would　be　unconscious　for　twenty　minutes；　maybe　an　hour。　Give　the　sergeant　four　to　six　minutes　to　find　the　shelf　with　the　sherry；　pay　for　it；　and　return　to　the　car。　Another　five　minutes　before　an　alert　was　sounded；　providing　the　sergeant　even　noticed　the　general　had　been　mugged　in　the　backseat。
　　　　Hagen　felt　pleased　with　himself。　He　would　be　through　the　main　gate　and　halfway　to　the　Colorado　Springs　airport　before　the　Air　Police　realized　what　had　happened。


　　　　An　early　snow　started　to　fall　over　southern　Colorado　shortly　after　midnight。　At　first　it　melted　when　it　met　the　ground；　but　soon　an　icy　sheet　formed；　and　then　a　white　blanket　began　to　build。　Farther　east　the　winds　kicked　up；　and　the　Colorado　Highway　Patrol　closed　off　the　smaller　county　roads　due　to　blizzard　conditions。
　　　　Inside　a　small；　unmarked　Lear　jet　parked　at　the　far　end　of　the　airport　terminal；　Hagen　sat　at　a　desk　and　studied　the　contents　of　General　Fisher's　briefcase。　Most　of　it　was　highly　classified　material　concerning　day…to…day　operations　of　the　space　center。　One　file　of　papers　concerned　the　flight　of　the　space　shuttle　Gettysburg；　which　had　been　launched　from　Vandenberg　Air　Force　Base　in　California　only　two　days　before。　He　was　amused　to　find　amid　the　slots　of　the　briefcase　a　pornographic　magazine。　But　the　champion　prize　was　a　black　leather　book　that　contained　a　total　of　thirty…nine　names　and　phone　numbers。　No　addresses　or　notations；　only　names　and　numbers　segregated　in　three　sections。　The　first　section　gave　fourteen；　the　second；　seventeen；　and　the　third；　eight。
　　　　None　of　them　struck　a　chord　with　Hagen。　It　was　possible　they　were　simply　friends　and　associates　of　Fisher's。　He　stared　at　the　third　list；　the　printing　beginning　to　blur　before　his　eyes　from　weariness。
　　　　Abruptly　the　top　name　leaped　out　at　him。　Not　the　surname；　but　the　first　name。
　　　　Startled；　shocked　that　he　had　missed　something　so　simple；　a　code　so　obvious　that　no　one　would　consider　it；　he　copied　the　list　on　his　legal　pad　and　matched　up　three　of　the　names　by　adding　the　correct　ones。


Gunnar　Monroe/Eriksen

Irwin　Dupuy

Leonard　Murphy/Hudson

Daniel　Klein

Steve　Larson

Ray　Sampson/LeBaron

Dean　Beagle

Clyde　Ward



　　　　Eight　names　instead　of　nine。　Then　Hagen　shook　his　head；　marveling　at　his　slow　grasp　of　the　conspicuous　fact　that　General　Clark　Fisher　would　hardly　have　included　his　own　name　on　a　telephone　list。
　　　　He　was　almost　home；　but　his　elation　was　muted　by　fatigue。　He'd　had　no　sleep　in　the　past　twenty…two　hours。　The　gamble　to　snatch　General　Fisher's　briefcase　had　paid　off　with　unexpected　dividends。　Instead　of　one　thread；　he　held　five；　all　the　remaining　members　of　the　〃inner　core。〃　Now　all　he　had　to　do　was　match　up　the　first　names　with　the　phone　numbers　and　he　would　have　a　neat　and　tidy　package。
　　　　All　this　was　wishful　thinking。　He　had　made　an　amateur's　error　by　mouthing　off　to　General　Clark　Fisher；　alias　Anson　Jones；　over　the　telephone　from　Pattenden　Lab。　He'd　tried　to　write　it　off　as　a　shrewd　move　designed　to　goad　the　conspirators　into　making　a　mistake　and　give　him　an　opening。　But　now　he　realized　it　was　nothing　but　cockiness　mixed　with　a　healthy　dose　of　stupidity。
　　　　Fisher　would　alert　the　〃inner　core；〃　if　he　hadn't　already　done　so。　There　was　nothing　Hagen　could　do　now。　The　damage　was　done。　He　was　left　with　no　choice　but　to　plunge　ahead。
　　　　He　was　staring　blankly　into　the　distance　when　the　aircraft　pilot　entered　the　main　partment　from　the　cockpit。　〃Excuse　me　for　interrupting；　Mr。　Hagen；　but　the　snowstorm　is　expected　to　get　worse。　The　control　tower　just　informed　me　they're　going　to　close　down　the　airport。　If　we　don't　take　off　now；　we　may　not　get　clearance　till　tomorrow　afternoon。〃
　　　　Hagen　nodded。　〃No　sense　in　hanging　around。〃
　　　　〃Can　you　give　me　a　destination？〃
　　　　There　was　a　short　pause　as　Hagen　looked　down　at　his　handwritten　notes　on　the　legal　pad。　He　decided　to　leave　Hudson　until　last。　Besides；　Eriksen；　Hudson；　and　Daniel　Klein　or　whoever；　all　had　the　same　telephone　area　code。　He　recognized　the　code　after　Clyde　Ward's　name　and　settled　on　it　simply　because　the　location　was　only　a　few　hundred　miles　south　of　Colorado　Springs。
　　　　〃Albuquerque；〃　he　said　finally。
　　　　〃Yes；　sir；〃　replied　the　pilot。　〃If　you'll　strap　yourself　in；　I'll　have　us　off　the　ground　in　five　minutes。〃
　　　　As　soon　as　the　pilot　disappeared　into　the　control　cabin；　Hagen　stripped　to　his　shorts　and　dropped　into　a　soft　berth。　He　was　dead　asleep　before　the　wheels　left　the　snow…carpeted　runway。




　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　



　　　　The　fear　that　the　President's　chief　of　staff；　Dan　Fawcett；　inspired　inside　the　White　House　was　immense。　His　was　one　of　the　most　powerful　positions　in　Washington。　He　was　the　keeper　of　the　sanctum　sanctorum。　Virtually　every　document　or　memo　sent　to　the　President　had　to　go　through　him。　And　no　one；　including　members　of　the　cabinet　and　the　leaders　of　Congress；　gained　entry　to　the　Oval　Office　unless　Fawcett　approved　it。
　　　　The　times　that　someone；　high…ranking　or　low；　refused　to　take　no　for　an　answer　were　nonexistent。　So　he　was　uncertain　how　to　react　as　he　looked　up　from　his　desk　into　the　smoldering　eyes　of　Admiral　Sandecker。　Fawcett　couldn't　remember　when　he　had　seen　a　man　seething　with　so　much　anger；　and　he　sensed　that　the　admiral　was　exerting　every　disciplined　resource　to　hold　it　under　control。
　　　　〃I'm　sorry；　Admiral；〃　said　Fawcett；　〃but　the　President's　schedule　is　airtight。　There　is　no　way　I　can　squeeze　you　in。〃
　　　　〃Get　me　in；〃　Sandecker　de