scoonts.theminotaur-第2章

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　〃Ask　me　no　questions　and　I'll　tell　you　no　lies；〃　Terry　Franklin　muttered　as　he　removed　the　final　disk　from　its　slot　and　tucked　it　into　its　own　little　envelope。　He　grinned　at　the　monitor　screen；　then　tapped　keys　to　exit　the　file。
　Now　came　the　tricky　part。　Three　years　ago；　when　he　had　first　been　told　by　the　Soviets　that　they　wanted　copies　of　documents　from　the　puter　system；　he　had　written　a　trapdoor　program　for　the　software　of　the　main　puter。　The　job　had　taken　him　six　months；　it　had　to　be　right　the　first　time…he　would　get　no　second　chance。　This　program　acplished　several　things；　it　allowed　Franklin　to　access　any　file　in　central　memory　from　this　terminal　here　in　the　repair　shop；　a　permanent　secret　〃doorway；〃　thereby　defeating　the　built…in　safeguards　that　gave　access　to　classified　files　only　from　certain　specific　terminals；　it　erased　the　record　of　his　access　from　the　3…W　file；　which　was　a　security　program　that　automatically　recorded　who；　what　and　when；　and　finally；　it　allowed　him　to　access　the　3…W　file　to　see　that　his　footprints　were　indeed　not　there。
　This　trapdoor　program　was　his　crowning　achievement。　He　had　once　seen　a　written　promise　from　the　software　designer　that　unrecorded　access　was　an　impossibility。　What　a　load！　It　had　been　damn　tough…he　would　give　them　that…but　he　had　figured　out　a　way　in　the　end。　There's　always　a　way　if　you　know　enough。　That　contractor；　he　really　sold　the　brass　a　sow's　ear　when　he　told　that　fib。　Ah　well；　the　contractor　had　gotten　his　and　now　Terry　Franklin　was　making　his　own　score。
　He　had　loaded　the　trapdoor　program　in　the　main　puter　one　day　while　fifteen　technicians　loafed　and　sipped　coffee　and　watched　him　work　on　a　sticky　tape　drive。　Not　a　one　of　them　saw　what　he　was　doing。　Nor；　he　told　himself　with　glee；　would　they　have　understood　what　he　was　doing　even　if　they　had　noticed。　Most　of　them　were　as　ignorant　as　they　were　trusting。
　Tonight　the　3…W　file　looked　clean　as　a　virgin's　conscience。　Franklin　exited　the　program　and　turned　off　his　terminal。　He　stood　and　stretched。　He　felt　good。　Very；　very　good。　The　adrenal　excitement　was　almost　like　a　cocaine　high；　but　better　since　there　was　no　edown。　He　was　living　on　the　edge　and　it　felt　terrific。
　After　straightening　up　the　office；　he　turned　off　the　coffeepot　and　put　on　his　coat。　With　a　last　glance　around；　he　snapped　off　the　tights　and　locked　the　door　behind　him。
　Getting　past　the　guards　at　the　building　exits　carrying　the　disks　was　a　risk；　though　a　small　one。　The　civilian　guards　occasionally　selected　people　for　a　spot　search　and　sooner　or　later　he　would　be　chosen。　He　knew　several　of　the　guards　on　sight　and　made　it　a　habit　to　speak　to　them；　but　inevitably；　sooner　or　later。。。　It　didn't　happen　this　evening；　but　he　was　clean　just　now　anyway。　The　disks　were　still　back　in　the　office；　carefully　hidden。　He　would　bring　them　out　some　evening　next　week　at　the　height　of　the　rush…hour　exodus　when　the　probability　of　being　searched　was　the　smallest。　Minimize　the　risk；　maximize　the　gain。
　As　he　rode　the　escalator　up　to　the　bus　stop　for　Virginia　suburban　buses；　Terry　Franklin　buttoned　his　coat　tightly　and　turned　the　collar　up　behind　his　neck。　From　a　pocket　he　extracted　his　white　Bailor's　cap　and　placed　it　carefully　on　his　head；　exactly　one　finger　width　above　his　eyebrows。
　The　cold；　wet　wind　at　the　top　of　the　mechanical　stairs　nude　him　cringe。　He　quickly　climbed　aboard　the　Annandale　bus　and　made　his　way　to　an　empty　window　seat。　He　stared　through　the　gathering　dusk　at　the　looming　building。　People　in　uniform　and　civilian　clothes　kept　pouring　from　the　escalator　exit；　trying　to　hide　their　faces　from　the　wind；　scurrying　for　buses。　These　poor　snooks。　What　they　didn't　know！
　Vastly　content；　Terry　Franklin　pursed　his　lips　and　began　to　whistle　silently。
　As　the　bus　bearing　Terry　Franklin　pulled　away　from　the　loading　area；　a　senior　naval　officer；　a　captain；　leaned　into　the　wind　as　he　crossed　the　lighted　parking　lot。　He　paid　no　attention　to　the　buses　queued　for　the　freeway　entrance　and　it　was　probable　no　one　of　that　buses　paid　any　attention　to　him。　Terry　Franklin　was　opening　the　sports　section　of　a　newspaper　he　had　purchased　during　his　lunch　break。　Franklin　wouldn't　have　recognized　the　captain　out　there　in　the　rapidly　emptying　parking　lot　anyway；　not　even　if　they　had　passed　in　a　corridor。　They　had　never　met。　But　Franklin　would　have　recognized　the　officer's　puter　security　access　password；　for　he　had　just　finished　using　it。
　Tonight　the　captain　grimaced　as　the　wind　tore　at　his　unprotected　face　and　took　the　time　to　open　the　hatchback　of　his　Toyota　Corolla　and　toss　his　attaché　case　in。　Then　he　fumbled　with　the　key　to　the　driver's　door。　Snuggled　in　with　the　engine　running　and　waiting　for　the　heater　to　warm　up；　Captain　Harold　Strong　tried　to　relax。　It　had　been　another　long　week；　as　each　and　every　one　of　them　were　in　this　gargantuan　paper　factory　by　the　Potomac。　He　cast　a　bleak　eye　on　the　cars　creeping　toward　the　exit。　Not　too　many　now；　well　after　quitting　time。　And　he　had　wanted　to　get　an　early　start　this　evening！　God；　he　was　tired。
　He　put　the　car　in　gear　and　threaded　it　toward　the　exit。　He　checked　his　watch。　It　was　twenty…two　minutes　past　six。　At　least　the　timing　was　right。　He　would　reach　the　interstate　just　as　the　car　pool　restrictions　ended。
　On　the　freeway　he　headed　north　along　the　river；　past　the　Arlington　Memorial　Bridge；　under　the　ramps　of　the　Teddy　Roosevelt　Bridge　and　out　into　the　traffic　snarl　on　1…66　westbound。　Here　at　the　tail　end　of　rush　hour　the　traffic　moved　along　fairly　well　at　about　forty　miles　per　hour；　only　occasionally　ing　to　a　plete　stop。　Captain　Strong　listened　carefully　to　an　airborne　traffic　reporter　tally　the　evening's　casualties。　1…66　westbound　wasn't　mentioned。
　Nearing　Falls　Church　he　stopped　beside　the　road　for　a　moment　and　removed　his　bridge　coat。　With　the　car　back　in　motion　and　the　radio　tuned　to　a　soft…rock　FM　station；　Strong　chewed　over　the　week's　frustrations　and　disasters　again。　Oh　crap；　he　thought；　it's　Friday　night　and　you　have　the　cabin　all　to　yourself　for　an　entire　weekend；　so　forget　it。　It'll　all　keep　until　Monday；　God　knows。
　Since　the　divorce　he　had　spent　most　of　his　weekends　in　the　cabin。　His　son　was　a　junior　in　college　this　year；　busy　with　school　and　girls。　The　captain　wasn't　interested　in　female　panionship；　which　was　perhaps　a　good　thing　since　he　lacked　both　the　finances　and　the　time。
　They　want　too　much　from　that　airframe；　he　told　himself　as　he　drove；　reviewing　the　arguments　of　the　week　yet　one　more　time。　You　can't　build　a　plane　that　will　drop　bombs；　shoot　missiles；　hassle　with　MiGs；　have　a　radar　cross　section　so　small　it　can't　be　detected…haul　the　President　back　and　forth　to　Camp　David　on　weekends　when　it　isn't　being　used　to　save　the　free　world…and　still　expect　the　goddamn　thing　to　take　a　cat　shot　and　make　an　arrested　carrier　landing。　With　so　many　design　promises　it　can't　possibly　do　any　mission　well。
　A　fucking　flying　Edsel；　assuming　that　one　way　or　the　other　it　can　be　made　to　fly。　He　had　used　precisely　those　words　this　afternoon　to　that　simple　sonuvabitch　from　SECNAV　and　that　slimy　political　hack　looked　tike　his　wallet　was　being　snatched。　And　what　had　he　said　to　Vice　Admiral　Henry　after　the　meeting？　〃It's　almost　as　if　those　idiots　want　to　buy　just　one　ultimate　do…everything　flying　machine　and　park　it　in　the　Rose　Garden　of　the　White　House　to　scare　the　shit　out　of　the　Russian　ambassador　when　he　es　to　call。〃　Henry　wasn't　happy　with　his　blunt　assessment。　Well；　he　was　right；　whether　Henry　liked　it　or　not。　Those　political　clowns　want　to　build　something　straight　out　of　a　Hollywood　special…effects　shop；　a　suborbital　battlestar　that　will　automatically　zap　anybody　who　isn't　wearing　olive…drab　underwear。
　Why　is　it；　over　eighty…five　years　after　Orville　and　Wilbur　showed　the　world　how　to　build　an　airplane；　that　we　have　to　keep　explaining　the　basic　laws　of　aerodynamics　to　these　used…car　salesmen　in　mufti？
　Strong　was　still　stewing　when　he　reached　the　outskirts　of　Winchester。　Raindrops　began　to　splatter　on　the　windshield。　He　turned　on　the　wipers。　The　road　looked　slick　and　the　wet　night　seemed　to　soak　up　his　headlights；　so　he　slowed　down。
　He　was　hungry。　He　turned　into　the　drive…through　lane　of　a　McDonald's　and　was　soon　back　on