scoonts.theminotaur-第17章

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　〃I　don't　know。　I　dropped　in　to　see　if　you　did。〃
　〃I'm　just　a　rural　peace　officer；　not　some　big…city　detective。　This　county　don't　have　much　real　crime。　Seems　that　most　of　the　scumbags　just　do　their　thing　over　in　Washington。　I'm　not…〃
　〃Let's　cut　the　bullshit。　Why　aren't　you　investigating　an　apparent　homicide？〃
　〃Who　says　I'm　not？　I'm　sitting　here　chinning　with　you；　ain't　I？〃
　Jake　sipped　on　his　coffee。　Finally　he　said；　〃Well；　you　got　any　more　questions？〃
　〃Gimme　your　address　and　phone　number。〃　Keadle　picked　up　a　pad　of　paper　and　a　pen　from　the　desk。　〃If　I　think　of　any　I'll　give　you　a　call。〃
　Jake　told　him　the　number。　〃Susie　already　gave　you　my　address　from　my　driver's　license。〃　He　stood　and　drained　his　coffee。　〃Thanks　for　the　coffee。　I　hope　you　catch　him。〃
　Keadle　looked　at　him　with　pursed　lips。
　Jake　opened　the　door　and　walked　out。　He　nodded　at　Susie　as　he　went　by。
　The　red　flag　was　up　on　the　Main　Street　parking　meter　but　no　ticket　yet。　It　was　almost　noon。　Perhaps　be　should　stop　and　see　if　the　prosecutor　was　in　his　office。　But　what　good　would　that　do？
　There　was　no　way　he　could　make　it　back　to　the　office　before　everyone　left　for　the　day。　Perhaps　a　hamburger。　He　fed　the　meter　another　quarter　and　walked　down　Main　Street　toward　a　cafe　that　he　had　noticed　near　the　courthouse。　Before　he　got　there　Trooper　Keadle　went　by　in　a　state　police　cruiser。
　When　he　finished　his　lunch　Jake　drove　east　on　the　road　back　to　Washington。　Somewhere　off　one　of　these　side　roads；　between　here　and　the　accident　site；　Harold　Strong　had　had　a　cabin。　He　wished　he　had　thought　of　finding　the　cabin　and　stopping　by　before　he　went　to　town。
　Who　are　you　kidding；　Jake？　What　would　you　look　for？　A　long　golden　hair　on　the　bedspread？　Perhaps　a　sterling　silver　cigarette　case　bearing　Mata　Hari's　initials？　You're　no　murder　investigator。　Keadle　has　undoubtedly　been　through　that　cabin　with　a　fine…tooth　b。　If　there　were　clues　he　has　them。
　Thoroughly　disgruntled；　Jake　drove　at　forty　miles　an　hour　along　the　two…lane　highway　toward　Virginia。　He　didn't　want　to　see　Trooper　Keadle　in　the　rearview　mirror　with　his　red　light　flashing。　Not　too　likely；　of　course。　The　odds　were　that　Keadle　was　sitting　in　his　cruiser　right　now　in　sight　of　Strong's　cabin；　hoping　against　hope　that　Jake　would　drop　by　and　enter　without　using　a　key。
　Keadle　was　no　hick　cop；　even　if　he　liked　to　play　the　role。　He　undoubtedly　knew　a　murder　when　he　tripped　over　one；　and　then　the　very　next　morning　a　man　appeared…by　the　Lord　Harry　a　vice　admiral　in　the　U。S。　Navy…who　wanted　the　investigation　of　the　very　recent　death　of　a　captain　in　that　very　same　navy　put　on　the　back　burner。　And　Keadle　and　the　prosecutor　went　along。　Or　did　they？　And　how　did　the　FBI　get　involved？
　But　if　it　didn't　happen　like　that；　why　did　Henry　tell　that　fairy　story？
　He　glanced　at　the　map　he　had　jammed　over　the　passenger's　sun　visor。　The　report　said　the　accident　happened　four　miles　west　of　Capon　Bridge；　that　little　village　Jake　had　stopped　in　this　morning　to　get　gas。　The　Shell　station。
　When　he　topped　the　mountain　west　of　Capon　Bridge　he　slowed　and　looked　for　the　scenic　overlook。　There。　On　a　whim　he　parked　his　car　beside　the　trees　so　he　could　examine　whatever　marks　remained　after　two　months。　As　he　got　out　of　his　car　and　surveyed　the　muddy　gravel　he　knew　it　was　hopeless。　Two　months　of　rain　and　snow　and　traffic　pulling　off　to　look　at　the　valley　had　totally　obliterated　the　marks　that　Keadle's　report　said　were　here　after　Strong's　wreck。
　He　walked　over　to　the　edge。　Some　of　the　guardrails　were　obviously　newer　than　the　others。　He　looked　down　the　embankment。　Beer　cans；　trash；　bare　dirt；　washed…out　furrows。　Well；　it　sure　looked　like　a　car　might　have　been　dragged　up　that　slope　some　time　back。　The　ground　was　soft　and　no　plants　had　yet　had　a　chance　to　hide　the　scars。　No　sense　going　down　there　and　getting　muddy。
　Harold　Strong　died　here。　Jake　had　lied　to　the　office　girl…he　had　never　met　Strong。　He　stood　now　feeling　foolishly　morbid　and　half　listening　to　a　car　laboring　up　the　grade　from　Capon　Bridge。　The　engine　noise　carried　through　the　trees　budding　with　spring　green　and　echoed　off　the　mountainside。
　Henry　had　been　telling　the　truth　about　one　thing　anyway：　Harold　Strong　had　been　murdered。　Not　even　a　race　car　could　e　up　that　grade　and　around　that　curve　fast　enough　to　skid　pletely　across　this　pullout　and　go　over　the　edge。　Not　without　help。
　Jake　glanced　up　as　the　car　climbing　the　mountain　went　by。　It　was　going　about　thirty　miles　per　hour。　The　driver　was　watching　the　road。　And　the　driver　was　Smoke　Judy。
　
　The　manding　officer　of　Attack　Squadron　128　（VA…128）　nodded　at　Rita　Moravia　and　Toad　Tarkington；　then　picked　up　his　phone。　A　yeoman　appeared　almost　immediately　to　collect　their　orders　for　processing　and　a　lieutenant　mander　was　right　behind。　He　led　them　into　another　office　and　gave　each　of　them　a　manual　on　the　A…6E　and　introduced　them　to　their　personal　mentors；　two　lieutenants。　〃These　two　gentlemen　are　going　to　teach　you　to　be　credible　A…6　crewmen　in　one　week；　starting　right　now。　We'll　get　your　luggage　over　to　the　BOQ　and　these　guys　will　drop　you　there　when　they　get　finished　tonight。〃
　Toad's　teacher　was　a　prematurely　bald　extrovert　from　New　England　named　Jenks；　who　began　talking　about　the　A…6E's　electronic　weapons　system…radar；　puters；　inertial　nav；　forward…looking　infrared　and　laser　ranger…designator…in　the　car　on　the　three…block　trip　to　the　building　that　housed　the　simulators。　Toad　listened　silently　with　growing　dread。
　Jenks　continued　his　monologue　as　he　led　Toad　across　the　parking　lot；　lectured　on　at　the　security　desk　while　Toad　filled　out　a　form　to　obtain　a　temporary　visitor's　pass；　and　didn't　pause　for　breath　as　they　climbed　the　stairs　and　went　through　a　control　room　and　across　a　catwalk　inside　a　huge　room　to　the　simulator；　a　cockpit　mounted　on　hydraulic　rams。　〃So　just　make　yourself　fortable　here　in　the　hot　seat；〃　Jenks　said　in　summary；　〃and　well　move　right　on　into　the　hardware。〃
　Toad　looked　slowly　around　the　cavernous　room　at　the　three　other　simulators。　Then　he　looked　into　the　cockpit。　Like　every　military　cockpit　in　the　electronic　age；　it　was　filled　with　display　screens；　puter　controls　and　information　readouts　in　addition　to　all　the　usual　gauges；　dials；　knobs；　switches　and　warning　tights。　〃I　have　a　question。〃
　〃Shoot。〃
　〃How　long　is　the　normal　syllabus　to　train　a　bombardier…navigator？〃
　〃Eight　months。〃
　〃And　you're　going　to　cram　all　that　info　into　me　in　one　week？'
　〃You　look　like　a　bright　guy。　That　captain　in　Washington　said　you　were　motivated　as　hell。〃
　〃Grafton？〃
　〃I　didn't　talk　to　him。　The　skipper　did。　Sit　down　and　let's　get　at　it。〃　Jenks　turned　and　shouted　to　the　technician　in　the　control　room；　〃Okay；　Art；　fire　it　up。〃
　
　People　were　streaming　out　of　Jefferson　Plaza　at　4：30　when　Jake　passed　through　the　main　entrance　on　the　way　in。　He　was　still　in　civilian　clothes。　He　waited　impatiently　for　the　tardy　elevator。
　The　secretary　was　still　in　the　office　along　with　several　officers。　What　was　her　name？　〃Hi。　What's　happening？〃
　〃Hello；　Captain。　Didn't　expect　to　see　you　today。〃
　〃Yeah。　Didn't　think　I'd　make　it　back。　Seen　mander　Judy？〃
　〃Oh；　he　was　in　for　a　little　while　this　morning；　then　he　said　he　had　a　meeting。　Said　he'd　probably　be　gone　the　rest　of　the　day。〃
　Jake　paused　near　the　woman's　desk。　〃Did　he　say　where　the　meeting　was？〃
　〃No；　sir。〃
　〃Was　he　here　when　you　arrived　tins　morning？〃
　She　tried　to　remember。　〃Yessir；　I　think　so。　Oh；　by　the　way；　the　puter　wizard　stopped　by　this　afternoon　to　give　you　your　brief　on　the　office　system。　He　said　he　was　going　to　be　working　late；　so　if　you're　going　to　be　around　a　while。　I'll　call　him　now　and　see　if　he　can　e　over　and　do　the　brief。〃
　〃Sure。　Call　him。〃
　Jake　greeted　the　other　officers　and　walked　across　the　room　to　his　office　door。　Two　of　his　new　subordinates　stuck　their　heads　in　for　a　few　pleasantries；　then　shoved　off。
　A　pile　of　documents　flat　in　the　in　basket　Jake　flipped　through　the　stuff　listlessly。　There　was　enough　work　here　to　keep　him　chained　to　this　desk　for　a　week；　or　maybe　a　month　since　he　didn't　know　anything　about　most　of　the　matters　the　letters　and　memos　referred　to。　He　would　have　to　use　the　staff　heavily。
　The　secret