tc.patriotgames-第42章

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ectronic　detonator。〃　He　tossed　one　　in　a　plastic　bag　　to　Murray。
　　　　〃Damn！　They're　turning　up　all　over　the　place　　a　shipment　of　these　little　babies　got　hijacked　a　year　and　a　half　ago。　They　were　heading　for　an　oil　field　in　Venezuela；　and　got　taken　outside　Caracas；〃　Murray　explained。　He　gave　the　small　black　device　a　closer　look。　〃The　oil　field　guys　love　'em。　Safe；　reliable；　and　damned　near　foolproof。　This　is　as　good　as　the　stuff　the　Army　uses。　State　of　the　art。〃　
　　　　〃Where　else　have　they　turned　up？〃　Owens　asked。
　　　　〃We're　sure　about　three　or　four。　The　problem　is；　they're　so　small　that　it's　not　always　possible　to　identify　what's　left。　A　bank　in　Puerto　Rico；　a　police　station　in　Peru　　those　were　political。　The　other　one　　maybe　two　　were　drug　related。　Until　now　they've　all　been　on　the　other　side　of　the　Atlantic。　As　far　as　I　know；　this　is　the　first　time　they've　showed　up　here。　These　detonators　have　lot　numbers。　You'll　want　to　check　them　against　the　stolen　shipment。　I　can　get　a　telex　off　tonight；　have　you　an　answer　inside　an　hour。〃　
　　　　〃Thank　you；　Dan。〃
　　　　Murray　counted　five　one…kilo　blocks　of　explosive。　The　Czech　plastique　had　a　good　reputation　for　quality。　It　was　as　potent　as　the　stuff　Du　Pont　made　for　American　military　use。　One　block；　properly　placed；　could　take　a　building　down。　With　the　Pyronetics　timers；　Miss　Dwyer　could　have　placed　five　separate　bombs；　set　them　for　delayed　detonation　　as　much　as　a　month　　and　been　a　thousand　miles　away　when　they　went　off。
　　　　〃You　saved　some　lives　tonight；　gentlemen。　Good　one。〃　Murray　looked　up。　The　apartment　had　a　single　window　facing　to　the　rear。　The　window　had　a　pull…down　blind　that　was　all　the　way　down；　and　some　cheap；　dirty　curtains。　Murray　wondered　what　this　flat　cost　to　rent。　Not　much；　he　was　sure。　The　heat　was　turned　way　up；　and　the　room　was　getting　stuffy。　〃Anybody　mind　if　I　let　some　air　in　here？〃　
　　　　〃Excellent　idea；　Dan；〃　Owens　answered。
　　　　〃Let　me　do　it；　sir。〃　A　detective　with　gloves　on　put　up　the　blind　and　then　the　window。　Everything　in　the　room　would　be　dusted　for　fingerprints　also；　but　opening　the　window　wouldn't　harm　anything。　A　breeze　cooled　things　off　in　an　instant。
　　　　〃That's　better。〃　The　FBI　representative　took　a　deep　breath；　scarcely　noticing　the　smell　of　diesel　exhaust　from　the　London　cabs　。　。　。　
　　　　Something　was　wrong。
　　　　It　hit　Murray　as　a　surprise。　Something　was　wrong。　What？　He　looked　out　the　window。　To　the　left　was　a　　probably　a　warehouse；　a　blank　four…story　wall。　Past　it　on　the　right；　he　could　see　the　outline　of　the　Tower　of　London；　standing　over　the　River　Thames。　That　was　all。　He　turned　his　head　to　see　Owens；　also　staring　out　the　window。　The　mander　of　C…13　turned　his　head　and　looked　at　Murray；　a　question　on　his　face　also。　
　　　　〃Yes；〃　Owens　said。
　　　　〃What　was　it　that　guy　on　the　phone　said？〃　Murray　muttered。　
　　　　Owens'　head　bobbed。　〃Exactly。　Sergeant　Highland？〃　
　　　　〃Yes；　mander？〃
　　　　〃The　voice　on　the　phone。　What　exactly　did　it　say；　and　what　exactly　did　it　sound　like？〃　Owens　kept　looking　out　the　window。
　　　　〃The　voice　had　。　。　。　a　Midlands　accent；　I　should　think。　A　man's　voice。　He　said　that　he　was　looking　in　the　window；　and　saw　explosives　and　some　wires。　We　have　it　all　on　tape；　of　course。〃　
　　　　Murray　reached　through　the　open　window　and　ran　a　finger　along　the　outside　surface　of　the　glass。　It　came　back　dirty。　〃It　sure　wasn't　a　window…washer　who　called　in。〃　He　leaned　out　the　window。　There　was　no　fire　escape。
　　　　〃Someone　atop　the　warehouse；　perhaps　　no；〃　Owens　said　at　once。　〃The　angle　isn't　right；　unless　she　had　the　material　spread　out　on　the　floor。　That　is　rather　odd。〃
　　　　〃Break…in？　Maybe　someone　got　in　here；　saw　the　stuff；　and　decided　to　call　in　like　a　good　citizen？〃　Murray　asked。　〃That　doesn't　sound　very　likely。〃
　　　　Owens　shrugged。　〃No　telling；　is　there？　A　boyfriend　she　dumped　　I　think　for　the　moment　we　can　be　content　with　counting　our　blessings；　Dan。　There　are　five　bombs　that　will　never　hurt　anyone。　Let's　get　out　of　everyone's　way　and　send　that　telex　off　to　Washington。　Sergeant　Highland；　gentlemen；　this　was　well　done！　Congratulations　to　you　all　for　some　splendid　police　work。　Carry　on。〃
　　　　Owens　and　Murray　left　the　building　quietly。　Outside　they　found　a　small　crowd　being　restrained　by　about　ten　uniformed　constables。　A　TV　news　crew　was　on　the　scene　with　its　bright　lights。　These　were　enough　to　keep　them　from　seeing　across　the　street。　This　block　had　three　small　pubs。　In　the　doorway　of　one　stood　a　soft…looking　man　with　a　pint　of　bitter　in　his　hand。　He　showed　no　emotion；　not　even　curiosity；　as　he　looked　across　the　street。　His　memory　recorded　the　faces　he　saw。　His　name　was　Dennis　Cooley。
　　　　Murray　and　Owens　drove　to　New　Scotland　Yard　headquarters；　where　the　FBI　agent　made　his　telex　to　Washington。　They　didn't　discuss　the　one　anomaly　that　the　case　had　unexpectedly　developed；　and　Murray　left　Owens　to　his　work。　C…13　had　broken　yet　another　bomb　case　　and　done　so　in　the　best　way；　without　a　single　casualty。　It　meant　that　Owens　and　his　people　would　have　a　sleepless　night　of　paperwork；　and　preparing　reports　for　the　Home　Office　bureaucracy；　and　press　releases　for　Fleet　Street；　but　that　was　something　they　would　gladly　accept。

　　　　Ryan's　first　day　back　at　work　was　easier　than　he　had　expected。　His　prolonged　absence　had　forced　the　History　Department　to　reassign　his　classes；　and　in　any　case　it　was　almost　time　for　Christmas　break；　and　nearly　all　of　the　mids　were　looking　forward　to　being　home　for　the　holidays。　Class　routine　was　slightly　relaxed；　and　even　the　plebes　enjoyed　a　respite　from　the　upperclassmen's　harassment　in　the　wake　of　the　win　over　Army。　For　Ryan；　the　result　was　a　fairish　collection　of　letters　and　documents　piled　on　his　In　tray；　and　a　quiet　day　with　which　to　deal　with　them。　He'd　arrived　in　his　office　at　7：30；　by　quarter　to　five　he'd　dealt　with　most　of　his　paperwork；　and　Ryan　felt　that　he'd　delivered　an　honest　day's　work。　He　was　finishing　a　series　of　test　questions　for　the　semester's　final　exam　when　he　smelled　cheap　cigar　smoke　and　heard　a　familiar　voice。
　　　　〃Did　you　enjoy　your　vacation；　boy？〃　Lieutenant　mander　Robert　Jefferson　Jackson　was　leaning　against　the　door　frame。
　　　　〃It　had　a　few　interesting　moments；　Robby。　The　sun　over　　or　under　　the　yardarm　yet？〃
　　　　〃Damn　straight！〃　Jackson　set　his　white　cap　on　top　of　Ryan's　filing　cabinet　and　collapsed　unceremoniously　into　the　leather　chair　opposite　his　friend's　desk。
　　　　Ryan　closed　the　file　folder　on　his　draft　exam　and　shoved　it　into　a　desk　drawer。　One　of　the　personal　touches　in　his　office　was　a　small　refrigerator。　He　opened　it　and　took　out　a　two…liter　bottle　of　7…Up；　along　with　an　empty　bottle　of　Canada　Dry　ginger　ale；　then　removed　a　bottle　of　Irish　whiskey　from　his　desk。　Robby　got　two　cups　from　the　table　by　the　door　and　handed　them　to　Jack。　Ryan　mixed　two　drinks　to　the　approximate　color　of　ginger　ale。　It　was　against　Academy　policy　to　have　liquor　in　one's　office　　a　stance　Ryan　found　curious；　given　the　naval　orientation　of　the　institution　　but　drinking　〃ginger　ale〃　was　a　winked…upon　subterfuge。　Besides；　everyone　recognized　that　the　Officer　and　Faculty　Club　was　only　a　minute's　walk　away。　Jack　handed　one　drink　over　and　replaced　everything　but　the　empty　ginger　ale　bottle。　
　　　　〃Wele　home；　pal！〃　Robby　held　his　drink　up。　
　　　　〃Nice　to　be　back。〃　The　two　men　clicked　their　cups　together。
　　　　〃Glad　you　made　it；　Jack。　You　kind　of　worried　us。　How's　the　arm？〃　Jackson　gestured　with　his　cup。
　　　　〃Better　than　it　was。　You　oughta　see　the　cast　I　started　out　with。　They　took　it　off　at　Hopkins　last　Friday。　I　learned　one　thing　today；　though；　driving　a　stick　shift　through　Annapolis　with　one　arm　is　a　bitch。〃　
　　　　〃I'll　bet；〃　Robby　chuckled。　〃Damn　if　you　ain't　crazy；　boy。〃　
　　　　Ryan　nodded　agreement。　He'd　met　Jackson　the　previous　March　at　a　faculty　tea。　Robby　wore　the　gold　wings　of　a　naval　aviator。　He'd　been　assigned　to　the　nearby　Patuxent　River　Naval　Air　Test　Center；　Maryland；　as　an　instructor　in　the　test　pilot　school　until　a　faulty　relay　had　unexpectedly　blasted　him　clear　of　the　Buckeye　jet　trainer　he'd　been　flying　one　fine；　clear　morning。　Unprepared　for　the　event；　he'd　broken　his　leg　badly。　The　injury　had　been　serious　enough　to　take　him　off　flight　status　for　six　months；　and　the　Navy　had　assigned　him　to　tempo