cyclops-第52章
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〃No； he's most certainly done something。〃 Hudson's voice was quiet but positive。 〃I fear we've underestimated his shrewdness。〃
〃In what way？〃
〃He knew I would make contact again and warn him to call off Hagen。〃
〃What brought you to that conclusion？〃 asked Condor Nose。
〃Hagen；〃 replied Hudson。 〃No good undercover operative calls attention to himself。 And Hagen was one of the best。 He had to have a good reason for advertising his presence by that phone call to General Fisher and his little face…to…face chat with Senator Porter。〃
〃But what was the President's purpose in forcing our hand if he made no demands； no requests？〃 asked Eriksen。
Hudson shook his head。 〃That's what scares me； Gunnar。 I can't see for the life of me what he had to gain。〃
Unnoticed in the downtown traffic； an old dusty camper with Georgia license plates kept a discreet distance behind the van。 In the back； Ira Hagen sat at a small dining table with earphones and a microphone clamped to his head and uncorked a bottle of Martin Ray Cabernet Sauvignon。 He let the opened bottle sit while he made an adjustment with the voice…tone knob on a microwave receiving set that was plugged into reel…to…reel tape decks。
Then he raised his headset to expose one ear。 〃They're fading。 Close up a bit。〃
The driver； wearing a fake scraggly beard and an Atlanta Braves baseball cap； replied without looking back。 〃I had to drop off when a taxi cut in front of me。 I'll make up the distance in the next block。〃
〃Keep them in sight until they park。〃
〃What's going down； a drug bust？〃
〃Nothing that exotic；〃 replied Hagen。 〃They're suspected of working a traveling poker game。〃
〃Big deal；〃 grunted the driver without realizing the pun。
〃Gambling is still illegal。〃
〃So is prostitution and it's a helluva lot more fun。〃
〃Just keep your eyes glued on the van；〃 Hagen said in an official tone。 〃And don't let it get more than a block away。〃
The radio crackled。 〃T…bone； this is Porterhouse。'
〃I hear you； Porterhouse。〃
〃We have Sirloin in visual but would prefer a lower altitude。 If he should happen to merge with another similar…colored vehicle under trees or behind a building； we could lose him。〃
Hagen turned and stared upward from the camper's rear window at the helicopter above。 〃What's your height？〃
〃The limit for aircraft over this section of the city is thirteen hundred feet。 But that's only half the problem。 Sirloin is heading for the Capitol mall。 We're not allowed to fly over that area。〃
〃Stand by； Porterhouse。 I'll get you an exemption。〃
Hagen made a call over a cellular telephone and was back to the helicopter pilot in less than a minute。 〃This is T…bone； Porterhouse。 You are cleared for any altitude over the city so long as you do not endanger lives。 Do you read？〃
〃Man； you must carry some kind of heavy weight。〃
〃My boss knows all the right people。 Don't take your eyes off Sirloin。〃
Hagen lifted the lid of an expensive picnic basket from Abercrombie & Fitch and pried open a can of goose liver path。 Then he poured the wine and returned to listening in on the conversation ahead。
There was no doubt that Leonard Hudson was one of the men in the van。 And Gunnar Eriksen was mentioned by his first name。 But the identity of the third man remained a mystery。
Hagen was dogged by an unknown。 Eight men of the 〃inner core〃 were accounted for； but number nine was still lost in the fog。 The men in the van were heading。 。 。 where？ What kind of facility housed the headquarters for the Jersey Colony project？ A dumb name； the Jersey Colony。 What was the significance？ Some connection with the state of New Jersey？ There must be something that could be prehended； that might explain how none of the information on the establishment of the moon base ever came to the attention of a high government official。 Someone with more power than Hudson or Eriksen had to be the key。 The last name on the 〃inner core〃 list perhaps。
〃This is Porterhouse。 Sirloin has turned northeast onto Rhode Island Avenue。〃
〃I copy；〃 answered Hagen。
He spread a map of the District of Columbia on the table and unfolded a map of Maryland。 He began tracing a line with a red grease pencil； extending it as they crossed from the District into Prince Georges County。 Rhode Island Avenue became U。S。 Highway 1 and swung north toward Baltimore。
〃Got any idea where they're heading？〃 asked the driver。
〃Not the slightest；〃 replied Hagen。 〃Unless。 。 。〃 he muttered under his breath。 The University of Maryland。 Not twelve miles from downtown Washington。 Hudson and Eriksen would hang close to an academic institution to take advantage of the research facilities。
Hagen spoke into the mike。 〃Porterhouse； keep a sharp eye。 Sirloin may be heading for the university。〃
〃Understood； T…bone。〃
Five minutes later the van turned off the highway and passed through the small city of College Park。 Then after about a mile it pulled into a large shopping center； anchored on both ends by well known department stores。 The several acres of parking space were filled with shoppers' cars。 All conversation had died inside the van； and Hagen was caught off guard。
〃Damn！〃 Hagen swore。
〃Porterhouse；〃 came the voice of the helicopter pilot。
〃I read you。〃
〃Sirloin just pulled under a big projection in front of the main entrance。 I have no visual contact。〃
〃Wait until he appears again；〃 ordered Hagen； 〃and then stay on his tail。〃 He rose from the table and stepped behind the driver。 〃Pull up on his ass。〃
〃I can't。 There are at least six cars between him and me。〃
〃Did anybody get out and enter the stores？〃
〃Hard to tell in the crush of people。 But it looked like two； maybe three heads ducked out of the van。〃
〃Did you get a good look at the guy who was picked up in town？〃 asked Hagen。
〃Gray hair and beard。 Thin； about five nine。 Turtleneck； tweed coat； brown pants。 Yeah； I'd recognize him。〃
〃Circle the parking lot and watch for him。 He and his pals may be switching cars。 I'm going inside the shopping mall。〃
〃Sirloin is moving；〃 announced the helicopter pilot。
〃Stick with him； Porterhouse；〃 said Hagen。 〃I'm going off the air for a while。〃
〃I read you。〃
Hagen jumped out of the camper and rushed through the crowd of shoppers into the interior mall。 It was like looking for three needles hidden inside a straw in a haystack。 He knew what Hudson looked like； and he had obtained photographs of Gunnar Eriksen； but either one or both might still be in the van。
Frantically he rushed from store to store； searching the faces； staring at any male head that showed above the mob of female shoppers。 Why did it have to be a weekend； he thought。 He could have shot a cannon through the mall at this early hour on a weekday and not hit anybody。 After nearly an hour of fruitless searching； he went outside and stopped the camper。
〃Spot them？〃 he questioned； knowing the answer。
The driver shook his head。 〃Takes me almost ten minutes to make a full circuit。 The traffic is too thick and most of them drive like zombies when they're looking for a parking space。 Your suspects could have easily e out another exit and driven off while I was on the opposite side of the building。〃
Hagen pounded his fist against the camper in frustration。 He had e so close； so damned close； only to stumble at the finish line。
Pitt solved the problem of sleeping without the constant glare from the fluorescent light by simply climbing on top of the wardrobe and disconnecting the tubes。 He did not wake up until the guard brought him breakfast。 He felt refreshed and dug into the thick gruel as if it were his favorite dish。 The guard seemed upset at finding the light fixture dark； but Pitt simply held up his hands in a helpless gesture of ignorance and finished his gruel。
Two hours later he was escorted to General Velikov's office。 There was the expected interminable wait to crack his emotional barriers。 God； but the Russians were transparent。 He played along by pacing the floor and acting nervous。
The next twen
