scoonts.theminotaur-第76章

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　Proposals　from　contractors　were　arriving　based　on　the　navy's。　Request　for　Proposal　（RFP）　on　the　Athena　project。　The　afternoon　was　devoted　to　examining　these　documents；　which　were　as　thick　as　metropolitan　telephone　directories。　〃How　e　these　guys　can't　just　say　what　they　want　to　say　and　leave　it　at　that？〃
　〃Lawyers　wrote　these。〃
　〃I　can't　make　head　or　tail　of　some　of　this　stuff。　They've　used　every　acronym　in　the　book　and　made　up　a　bunch　more。　These　dungs　look　like　dispatches　from　Babel。〃
　
　One　morning　several　days　later　Dreyfus　stuck　his　head　in　Luis　Camacho's　office　door。　〃The　Minotaur　mailed　the　Russians　another　letter。〃
　Dreyfus　handed　Camacho　a　copy　and　sank　into　a　chair　while　his　boas　perused　it　Addressed　to　the　Soviet　ambassador；　the　letter　was　a　mentary　on　Gorbachev's　recent　visit　to　Cuba。　The　last　paragraph　contained　some　advice　on　how　the　Soviets　should　handle　Castro。
　〃On　generic　copy　paper；　as　usual。　Just　like　all　the　others。〃
　〃Has　the　original　been　through　the　lab　yet？〃
　〃Nope。　I　just　took　it　down。〃
　〃Go　get　it。　I　want　to　see　it。〃
　〃What　for？　That's　an　accurate　copy。〃
　〃Please。　Now。〃
　With　a　shake　of　his　head；　Dreyfus　plied。
　Camacho　opened　his　desk　drawer　and　pulled　out　a　pair　of　rubber　gloves；　which　he　worked　onto　his　hands　without　the　benefit　of　baby　powder。　Then　he　extracted　a　jar　from　the　lower　left　drawer。　He　opened　it　and　used　a　letter　opener　to　smear　a　little　of　the　blue　jelly　on　his　desk。　Oops；　too　much。　He　used　a　piece　of　paper　from　a　legal　pad　to　blot　the　mess；　then　stared　at　the　stain　on　the　back　of　the　paper。　After　firmly　closing　the　jar；　he　stowed　it　back　in　his　desk。
　When　Dreyfus　returned　with　the　letter；　Camacho　was　at　the　window　idly　watching　the　pedestrians　on　E　Street。　He　gingerly　opened　the　plastic　bag　and　extracted　the　letter　while　Dreyfus　watched　openmouthed。　He　laid　the　fully　opened　letter　on　the　desk　and　pressed。　Then　he　turned　it　over　and　examined　the　blue　smear　on　the　back。　Satisfactory。　Not　too　much；　yet　enough　for　the　lab　to　get　a　sample。　He　refolded　the　letter　and　replaced　it　in　the　see…through　plastic　bag。
　〃Take　it　back　to　the　lab。〃
　〃Did　I　see　that？〃
　〃No。　You　are　as　ignorant　as　you　look。〃
　〃You're　the　boss。〃
　〃Indeed。　And　while　you're　at　it；　see　if　this　word　is　encoded　in　the　text。〃　Camacho　seized　a　piece　of　scratch　paper　and　carefully　printed　a　word。　〃Kilderkin。〃　He　passed　the　paper　to　Dreyfus。
　〃Anything　else？〃　Dreyfus　asked　hopefully。
　〃Like　what？〃
　〃Oh；　I　dunno。　I've　got　the　feeling　that　neat　and　wonderful　wheels　are　turning　like　crazy；　though　I　haven't　the　foggiest　idea　why。　Or　where　the　wheels　will　take　us。〃
　〃What　do　you　want？　A　Tuesday…morning　miracle？〃
　〃It　doesn't　have　to　be　a　miracle。　A　tiny　little　sleight　of　hand　would　be　wele。　Or　a　very　brief　explanation。〃
　Camacho　shot　his　cuffs。　〃See。　Nothing　up　my　sleeves。　No　hat；　so　no　rabbit。〃
　Dreyfus　stood　and　ambled　toward　the　door。　〃Kilderkin；　huh？　You　know；　I　get　the　impression　that…〃
　〃Never　trust　your　impressions。　Wait　for　evidence。〃
　〃So　what　do　we　do　with　the　original　letter　when　the　lab's　through　with　it？〃　The　agent　fluttered　the　plastic　bag　gently。
　〃The　usual。　Stick　it　back　in　the　envelope　and　let　the　post　office　deliver　it。　I'm　sure　the　ambassador　will　convey　the　writer's　advice　to　the　members　of　the　Politburo　at　his　earliest　opportunity。　This　may　be　the　great　watershed　in　U…S。…Soviet　re…〃　He　stopped　because　Dreyfus　was　already　out　the　door　and　had　closed　it　behind　him…
　At　ten　o'clock　Dreyfus　was　back。　He　waited　patiently　until　Camacho　was　off　the　phone；　then　said；　〃Okay；　how'd　you　know？〃
　〃Know　what？〃
　〃That　that　antique　word　from　merry　ol'　England　would　crack　it？〃
　〃Kilderkin？〃
　〃Yeah。〃
　〃Elementary；　my　dear　Watson。　A　kilderkin　is　a　barrel　or　cask。　It　contains　something；　as　that　letter　did。〃
　〃Shit。〃
　Camacho　extended　his　hand。　Dreyfus　passed　him　a　small　piece　of　white　paper　containing　the　three　words　from　the　message　and　waited　white　he　examined　it。　The　second　word　was　〃kilderkin。〃
　〃That's　all；〃　Camacho　said；　looking　up　as　he　folded　the　small　page　and　stuck　it　into　his　shirt　pocket。　〃Thanks。〃
　〃Always　a　pleasure；　Holmes。〃
　When　he　was　again　alone；　Camacho　dialed　a　telephone　number　from　memory　and　identified　himself　to　the　woman　who　answered。　In　a　moment　the　person　he　wanted　was　on　the　line　and　he　said：　〃Let's　have　lunch。〃
　〃Can't　today。　Pretty　busy。〃
　〃Appointments？〃
　〃Yep。〃
　〃Cancel　them。〃
　〃Where　and　when？〃
　〃On　the　mall；　in　front　of　the　Air　and　Space　Museum。　Twelve　or　so。〃
　The　line　went　dead　in　Camacho's　ear。　He　cradled　the　instrument。　He　leaned　back　in　his　chair　and　looked　out　his　little　window　at　the　buildings　on　the　other　side　of　E　Street。　He　pursed　his　lips　and　breathing　deeply　in　and　out；　gently　massaged　his　head　with　one　hand。
　An　hour　later　he　was　out　on　the　sidewalk　in　his　shirt　sleeves；　striding　along。　He　had　left　his　pistol　locked　in　his　desk　drawer；　his　jacket　and　tie　over　the　back　of　his　chair。　He　was　violating　FBI　policy　but　so　be　it。　The　summer　heat　was　palpable；　a　living；　breathing　monster　no　doubt　goaded　by　the　sheer　numbers　of　humans　who　were　defying　it　this　midday。　Where　did　all　these　people　e　from？　The　streets　were　packed　with　cars；　taxis；　snorting　buses　and　trucks；　the　sidewalks　covered　with　swarming　humanity。
　Overhead　the　summer　haze　made　the　sky　appear　a　gauzy；　indistinct　white；　but　it　failed　to　soften　the　sun's　fierce　glare。　Camacho's　shirt　wilted　swiftly　and　glued　itself　to　the　small　of　his　back。　He　could　fed　the　perspiration　soaking　into　his　socks。　Little　beads　of　sweat　congealed　around　the　hairs　on　the　back　of　his　hands；　and　he　automatically　wiped　the　palms　on　his　trousers　as　he　walked。
　Every　shady　circle　under　the　mall　trees　was　home　to　office　workers　and　tourists　who　could　no　longer　stay　on　their　feet。　Children　sprawled　and　played　on　the　hard…packed　dirt。　The　grass　that　had　grown　under　the　trees　so　profusely　this　spring　had　succumbed　weeks　ago　under　the　impact　of　infinite　feet。　An　endless　stream　of　joggers　and　serious　runners　pounded　up　and　down　the　gravel　paths　of　the　mall；　little　dust　spurts　rising　from　the　thud　of　each　foot。　The　bined　effect　was　a　thin　brown　curtain　of　dust　that　rose　into　the　air　and　tilted　away　toward　the　monolithic　art　museums　that　lined　the　northern　side　of　the　open　expanse。
　The　street　in　front　of　the　Air　and　Space　Museum　was　bumper　to　bumper　with　tour　buses。　As　he　came　closer；　Luis　Camacho　threaded　his　way　through　the　hordes　of　teenagers　and　middle…aged　pink　people　in　shorts　and　cutesy　T…shirts。
　The　great　American　sightseeing　excursion　was　in　full　swing。　Herds　of　Japanese　tourists　clad　in　the　requisite　button…down　short…sleeved　shirts　clustered　near　some　of　the　buses　and　busily　snapped　their　cameras　at　each　other；　the　huge　windowless　museums　to　the　north；　the　distant　Washington　Monument　and　the　dome　of　the　Capitol　rising　in　the　east　like　a　corpulent　moon。　In　spite　of　the　oppressive　heat；　the　mood　was　cheerful；　gay。
　Camacho　found　a　spot　in　the　shade　near　a　tree　and　sat　down　gratefully。　Cigarette　butts　and　candy…bar　wrappers　littered　the　ground。　He　didn't　care。　To　his　left　a　souvenir　stand　was　doing　a　land…office　business　in　film；　soft　drinks　and　ice…cream　bars。　Squalling　youngsters　and　frisky　youths　queued　like　soldiers　in　the　sun　as　they　waited　for　their　turn　to　surrender　their　money　to　the　happy　merchant。
　Derelicts　shuffled　slowly　through　the　human　forest。　They　were　blithely　ignored　as　they　mined　the　trash　bins　for　pop　cans。　A　couple　of　alkies　snoozed　further　away　from　the　street　in　the　shade　cast　by　the　treetops；　out　where　the　grass　still　survived：　their　day　had　apparently　ended　some　hours　ago　when　the　critical　intoxication　level　had　been　reached　and　surpassed。
　He　had　been　there　no　more　than　five　minutes　when　he　spotted　the　man　he　had　e　to　meet　feeling　his　way　through　the　crowd；　looking　about　him。　Camacho　stood　and　walked　toward　him。
　〃Morning；　Admiral。〃
　〃Let's　get　the　hell　out　of　this　crowd；〃　Tyler　Henry　growled。　〃Next　time　pick　a　quieter　spot。〃　Henry　was　clad　in　beige　slacks　and　a　yellow　pullover　with　a　little　fox　on　the　right　breast　His　eyes　were　hidden　behind　the　naval　aviator's　de　rigueur　sunglasses。
　〃Aye　aye；　sir。〃
　The　two　men　wal