Steal The Sun(战争间谍)-第14部分

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broken　window　or　the　faded　red　one　with　a　crumpled　fender？　Or　was　she　even　here？
Refugio　had　to　force　his　hands　to　relax　on　the　wheel。　Like　a　wild　animal；　Masarek　had　a　sixth
sense　for　danger；　sniffing　and　listening；　head　turning；　eyes　probing；　but　most　of　all　listening；
always　listening。
“Can　I　tell　my　men　what　we’re　looking　for？”　asked　Refugio；　willing　his　voice　to　be　casual。　“Even
from　back　there；　they　could　help　you。”
“One　word　of　Spanish　and　I’ll　blow　your　balls　off。”
Refugio　shrugged；　concealing　a　surge　of　rage。　He　had　planned　for　something　like　this　while
Vanessa　talked　on　the　phone　to　her　San　Francisco　spy　and　Masarek　watched　and　listened。
Always　listening；　that　one。　A　wild　animal。　Killing　him　would　not　be　a　sin；　not　like　killing　a　real
person。
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On　the　left　was　a　white　van　with　its　engine　compartment　open　and　a　single　red　rose　painted　on
its　side。　Refugio’s　hands　gripped　the　wheel；　his　knuckles　showing　pale　yellow。　Masarek　noticed
neither　the　sudden　tension　nor　the　parked　flower　truck；　for　he　had　just　spotted　Vanessa’s　car。
“There！”　he　exclaimed。
“Como？”　said　Refugio　with　a　guilty　start。
“The　dark　green　car。”
There　were　three　dark　cars　within　view；　all　parked　on　his　side　of　the　street。
“Which　one？”
“Slow　down！　There！　Third　car　on　the　right。　See　the　red　blanket？”
Refugio　slowed　to　a　crawl；　peering　out　the　windshield。　He　spotted　the　car　with　a　blanket　shoved
carelessly　onto　the　rear…window　ledge；　blocking　most　of　the　window。
“Where　is　the　woman？”　asked　Refugio。　Kestrel　would　be　very　angry　if　Vanessa　were　not
captured　for　questioning。　He　could　not　even　set　Salvador　onto　Masarek　until　Vanessa　was　within
easy　reach。
“Stop　next　to　the　car；　wait　for　a　moment　and　then　park　ahead　of　her。　She’ll　wait　in　the　car　for
us。”
Refugio　followed　the　instructions；　turning　as　though　to　peer　into　the　car。　Out　of　the　corner　of
his　eye　he　saw　Salvador；　who　was　not　quite　close　enough　to　the　Russian　to　be　certain　–　and
Refugio　wanted　Masarek’s　death　to　be　very　certain　indeed。
Refugio　pulled　even　with　the　green　car。　Vanessa’s　face　appeared　briefly　in　the　side　window。
“Good；”　grunted　Masarek。　“Now　park　up　ahead。”
Refugio　pulled　forward；　jerking　the　van　when　he　let　out　the　clutch。　His　clumsiness　covered
Salvador’s　forward　creep。　Only　a　few　inches；　but　it　was　all　Salvador　could　safely　manage。
As　Refugio　angled　the　van　toward　the　curb；　he　knew　the　time　to　attack　had　come。　He　wished　to
every　saint　he　had　ever　known　that　a　gun　were　not　pointed　between　his　legs。　But　it　must　be　now；
while　Masarek’s　mind　was　divided　between　Vanessa　and　the　men　in　the　van。
“Masarek。”
It　was　the　first　time　Refugio　had　spoken　Masarek’s　name　since　they　had　left　Hunters　Point。　It　was
meant　to　be　the　last。
Salvador’s　garrot　sang　free　of’his　belt　as　he　lunged　for　Masarek。　The　Russian　turned　at　the
unexpected　sound　even　as　his　hand　started　to　squeeze　the　trigger。　Refugio’s　fist　lashed　out；
trying　to　knock　away　the　gun；　but　it　was　like　trying　to　bend　stone。
Only　the　garrot　saved　Refugio；　the　razor　wire　tightening　with　a　jerk　that　yanked　Masarek
off…balance　a　fraction。　Not　much；　hardly　a　finger’s　width；　merely　the　difference　between　a　bullet
through　his　thigh　and　a　bullet　through　his　balls。
Refugio　bellowed　like　a　gored　bull；　but　he　held　on　to　Masarek’s　hand　and　gun。　He　bellowed
again；　straining　against　the　Russian’s　strength。　They　were　locked　together；　clawing　for　control　of
the　silenced　gun。
The　first　snap　of　Salvador’s　wrists　failed　to　kill　Masarek。　In　the　split　instant　before　the　garrot
closed；　Masarek　had　jammed　his　left　hand　between　the　razor　wire　and　the　vulnerable　flesh　of　his
neck。
The　garrot　bit　deeply　into　Masarek’s　hand；　drawing　blood　from　a　cut　so　fine　that　for　an　instant
the　Russian　did　not　even　feel　it。　When　wire　met　bone；　Salvador’s　momentum　was　broken。
Masarek　tried　to　turn　the　gun　back　on　Salvador；　but　Refugio　held　on　despite　his　wound；
preventing　Masarek　from　shooting　the　man　whose　cruel　hands　were　sawing　on　the　wire。
Lopez　leaped　into　the　fight；　grabbing　for　the　bulbous　silencer。　The　gun　was　forced　upward　just
as　it　coughed　once；　then　again；　clearing　its　throat　of　two　deadly　bits　of　metal。　One　penetrated　the
sheet　metal　ceiling；　the　other　struck　a　strut　and　rebounded；　tearing　through　Lopez’s　face。　He
screamed　and　staggered；　one　eye　gone。　He　dropped　to　his　knees；　clawing　at　his　face。　He　was
dead　before　his　forehead　bounced　off　the　van’s　floor。
The　gun　hawked　twice　more；　sending　bullets　screaming　off　metal　surfaces。　Salvador　yanked　on
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the　thin　wire；　struggling　to　pull　the　garrot　through　the　bone　in　Masarek’s　thumb　and　then
through　the　flesh　on　his　neck。
The　muzzle　of　the　pistol　wove　erratically；　a　blind　black　eye。　Sweat　ran　down　Salvador’s　face　and
his　heavy　arms　bulged　as　he　pulled　against　the　stubborn　bone。　The　razor　wire　jerked；　found　new
purchase　on　the　thumb　joint；　and　sliced　through　to　Masarek’s　neck。　Gagging　helplessly；　he
jerked　the　trigger　again　and　again。　Bullets　grazed　Salvador’s　hand；　but　the　pressure　on　Masarek’s
neck　did　not　lessen。
Refugio　felt　his　own　strength　give　way　to　pain；　but　he　clung　to　the　Russian’s　arm；　spoiling　the
assassin’s　aim。　Desperately；　Masarek　tried　to　throw　himself　up　and　over　the　back　of　the　seat；
bringing　himself　closer　to　Salvador　and　thereby　easing　the　bite　of　the　wire。　But　his　movement
gave　Refugio　the　leverage　he　needed。　He　forced　the　pistol　back　on　its　owner。　Masarek’s　twisting
struggle　could　not　evade　the　bullet　that　tore　through　his　throat；　killing　him。
Breathing　rapidly；　Salvador　wiped　sweat　and　blood　from　his　face。　His　arms　hung　like　bags　of
sand　and　his　fingers　were　numb。　Never　had　it　taken　so　long　to　kill　a　man。　Never　had　one　of　his
victims　died　so　hard。
“Are　you　all　right；　Refugio？”　asked　Salvador；　looking　away　from　Masarek；　remembering　where
the　first　bullet　had　been　aimed。　“Refugio？”
“The　woman！”　gasped　Refugio。　“We　must　get　the　woman！”
Hunters　Point
3　Hours　10　Minutes　After　Trinity
Coughlan’s　footsteps　had　stopped　short　of　the　corpse。　He　flipped　Finn’s　credentials　at　him
without　meeting　Finn’s　eyes。　The　FBI　agent’s　lips　were　puckered　as　though　he　were　chewing　on
quinine。　He　faced　Riley。
“Give　him　his　gun；”　said　Coughlan。　“He’s　your　new　boss。”
“What？”
“He’s　in　charge　of　this　investigation；”　said　Coughlan；　distaste　in　every　syllable；　“and　you　are
hereby　assigned　to　be　his　fetch…and…carry。　So　give　him　the　goddamn　elephant　gun　before　he
breaks　your　arm。”
“For　the　love　of　God；”　said　Riley。　He　holstered　his　own　gun　and　returned　Finn’s　。45。
Finn　stuck　the　。45　in　the　back　of　his　belt。　“Amen；　Riley。　Let’s　give　the　partnership　a　pass。”
Coughlan　smiled　thinly。　“Nice　try；　but　Groves　–　whoever　the　hell　he　is　–　said　you　work　with　us。
If　Riley　is　too　much　for　you　to　handle；　I’ll　find　someone　with　fewer　teeth。　Either　way；　it’s　you
and　us。”
Finn　looked　from　Coughlan　to　Riley。　“It　can　be　easy；”　he　said；　measuring　Riley　with　pale　eyes；
“or　it　can　be　hard。”　He　pointed　to　the　dead　sentry。　“Hold　on　to　him。”
Without　waiting　to　see　if　Riley　understood；　Finn　turned　and　squatted　on　his　heels　by　the　dead
boy。
Riley　hesitated；　then　grabbed　the　corpse；　holding　it　against　Finn’s　pull。　It　was　clearly　the　first
time　Riley　had　touched　a　corpse；　but　he　was　determined　not　to　show　his　revulsion。
Finn　liked　the　feel　of　dead　flesh　no　better　than　Riley。　Willing　hmself　not　to　notice　smell　or
temperature　or　texture；　Finn　wrestled　against　the　cold　strength　of　the　sentry’s　clenched　fingers。
Once　he　almost　pulled　over　the　body。　He　looked　up　at　Riley；　who　flushed　and　grasped　the
corpse　more　tightly。
Finally；　Finn　dragged　the　thick　paper　out　of　the　dead　boy’s　grasp。
Coughlan　could　restrain　himself　no　longer。　“You　keep　dicking　with　the　evidence　and　the　crime
boys　will　be　all　over　you　like　a　cat　covering　shit。”
“I　don’t　give　a　damn　about　evidence。　All　I　want　is　information。”
Coughlan　shut　up。
Finn　smoothed　out　the　paper。　It　was　an　indentification　card　from　the　Lawrence　Radiation
Laboratory；　issued　to　a　health　inspector　named　Mr。　Stan　Grummin。　But　the　face　belonged　to
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Masarek。　Finn　turned　to　one　of　the　Navy　officers　who　had　drifted　back　in　Coughlan’s　wake。
“Did　the　Lawrence　Radiation　Lab　send　someone　over　to　check　the　shipment？”
“Yes；　Captain。”
“Who？”
The　ONI　man　consulted　a　notebook。　“Dr。　Kenneth　Cooper　logged　in　at　the　gate　last　night　at
2400。　He　logged　out　at　0100。　However；　this　sentry；”　his　glance　flicked　over　the　corpse；　“came
on　duty　at　0130。　Somebody　checked；　saw　him　alive　at　0200。　Dr。　Cooper　couldn’t　have　been
involved。”
Finn’s　glance　turned　back　to　the　card　in　his　hand。　He　smoothed　the　card　and　turned　it　slowly　so
that　light　played　over　the　small　photograph。　In　spite　of　its　recently　wrinkled　face；　the　card　was
new；　its　edges　crisp　and　unsmudged　by　handling。
“You　can　let　go；”　said　Finn　to　Riley　without　looking　up。
“My　pleasure；”　muttered　Riley。　He　stepped　back　from　the　corpse　with　no　attempt　to　hide　his
relief。
“Coughlan；”　Finn　said；　“how　long　will　it　take　to　find　out　if　this　card　really　came　from　the
Lawrence　lab？”
Coughlan　approached　and　took　the　card　from　Finn。　He　smoothed　it　out　and　studied　the　picture
and　the　printing　carefully。　“Paper　and　printing　are　right；　but　it　couldn’t　have　come　from　the　lab。
We　never　did　one　on　this　guy　Grummin。”
“His　name　is　Masarek。　He’s　an　NKVD　agent。”
Everyone　in　the　room　came　to　attention　at　the　mention　of　the　Russian　secret　service。
“NKVD？”　said　Coughlan。　“I　should　have　figured　it　was　the　commies。”　He　turned　to　Riley。　“Get
the　guys　from　the　Red　Squad　down　here。　I　want　every　known　commie　agent；　sympathizer　or
plain　fool　in　San　Francisco　and　Berkeley　under　surveillance　by　noon。”
“Hold　it。”　Finn’s　voice　was　like　a　pistol　shot。　“You　can　put　a　watch　on　known　agents　and　idiots
–　it　will　at　least　keep　your　men　out　of　the　way。　But　it　won’t　answer　my　question　about　where　the
card　came　from。”
“It’s　a　fake。　It　has　to　be；”　said　Coughlan。　“We　never　approved　a　security　clearance　for　a
goddamn　Russian　spy　called　Grummin　or　Masarek　or　whatever　the　hell　his　name　is。”
“Someone　in　that　lab　told　Grummin…Masarek　when　the　shipment　arrived　and　where　it　was
stored。　That　same　person　could　have　stolen　a　blank　Lawrence　lab　ID　card　and　given　it　to
Masarek。”
Coughlan　scowled；　but　nodded　finally。
“Run　another　check　on　everybody　at　the　lab；”　said　Finn。　“Bear　down　on　anyone　who　knew
about　the　shipment。　And　be　a　prick　with　the　men　who　came　here　at　midnight。”
Coughlan’s　scowl　deepened；　but　he　nodded　again。
“And　before　you　do　anything　else；”　continued　Finn；　“get　a　bulletin　on　Masarek　out　to　the　local
police。”
“An　APB；”　muttered　Coughlan。　“San　Francisco　or　the　whole　damn　Bay　Area？”
“Statewide；”　said　Finn；　trying　to　keep　the　bleak　edge　of　hopelessness　out　of　his　voice。　“Christ；
he　could　be　halfway　to　Russia　by　now。”
With　the　discipline　that　had　made　him　a　survivor；　Finn　put　away　his　feeling　of　futility。　As　long　as
there　was　time；　he　would　keep　on　trying…　otherwise　the　sentry　would　be　just　the　first　of　a
million　casualties；　death　piled　on　death。
Finn　stood　and　walked　swiftly　through　the　half…open　storeroom　door　that　was　just　beyond　the
sentry’s　body。　Riley　hesitated；　then　followed　his　new　partner。
The　first　thing　Finn　saw　was　the　open　canister。　His　breath　hissed　out　between　his　teeth　as　the
enormity　of　the　thieves’　ignorance　struck　him　for　the　first　time。
“Sweet　Jesus。　The　bastards　don’t　know　what　they　stole！”　Finn　remembered　the　dying　technician
in　Los　Alamos；　the　horror　of　his　invisible；　lethal　injury。　He　turned　toward　the　men　waiting
outside　the　storeroom。　“How　many　people　have　been　in　here？”
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Coughlan　came　up　behind　Finn　and　looked　over　his　shoulder。　“No　one　but　me。　Why？”
“Did　you　touch　anything？”
“Uh；　no；”　said　Coughlan　uneasily。　“We　were　told　that　the　storeroom　was　off　limits　until
someone　from　Groves　cleared　it。”
Finn　looked　at　Coughlan；　sure　that　he　was　lying。　It　was　an　investigator’s　nature　to　poke　and　pry；
and　Coughlan　was　an　investigator　before　he　was　anything　else。
“Riley；”　said　Finn。
The　young　agent　took　Coughlan’s　place　behind　Finn；　looking　over　his　shoulder　into　the
forbidden　storeroom。　Finn　pulled　a　metal　keyring　from　his　pocket　and　flipped　it　to　Riley。
“In　the　trunk　of　the　black　Ford　coupe　parked　out　front。　A　metal　box。　Bring　it。”
In　less　than　a　minute；　Riley　returned　with　the　radiation　counter。　Finn　took　the　instrument；
snapped　it　on　and　adjusted　the　dial。　He　was　rewarded　with　a　slow；　steady　click；　like　a
metronome。　Finn　extended　the　probe　in　front　of　him　like　a　snake　stick　and　began　quartering　the
storeroom。
As　he　approached　the　canister；　the　radiation　counter　began　clicking　faster。　When　he　was　eight
feet　from　the　empty　canister　the　pulses　quickened　even　more；　sounding　double　time　in　a　ghostly
march。　At　six　feet；　the　sound　slid　into　a　blur。
Finn　stopped　and　recalibrated。　Although　the　radiation　was　still　within　the　range　of　safety；　Finn
felt　as　though　the　temperature　of　the　room　were　increasing　with　each　click。　Sweat　started　on　his
forehead。　He　remembered　again　the　laboratory　and　the　innocent　looking；　deadly　pieces　of
metal。
“What　are　you　doing？”　demanded　Coughlan。
Finn　ignored　him。　Four　feet　away　from　the　cannister；　Finn　had　to　recalibrate　again。　He　was
approaching　the　upper　level　of　what　he　had　been　told　was　the　safety　range。　The　skin　on　his　arms
prickled　and　contracted。　He　advanced　another　cautious　step；　feeling　as　though　he　were　in　the
jungle　again；　and　the　clicks　of　the　counter　a　cloud　of　frightened　birds　crying　frantic　warnings。
Off　to　the　side　of　the　lid；　on　a　patch　of　concrete　that　looked　no　different　from　any　other；　the
probe　sensed　ambush　and　screamed。　Finn　reset　the　counter　twice；　then　retreated；　still　unable　to
slow　the　scream　into　separate　clicks。　He　would　leave　the　rest　of　the　investigating　to　radiation
experts。　He　knew　enough　for　his　own　purposes。　He　knew　that　the　U…235　was　unshielded；　and
that　the　two　pieces　had　been　brought　together　as　they　were　stolen；　irradiating　the　concrete　floor
and　probably　at　least　one　of　the　thieves。
The　mental　vision　of　shadowy　men　limned　in　the　blue　light　of　atomic　radiation　possessed　Finn’s
mind　for　a　moment；　and　then；　like　an　echo；　the　face　of　the　experimenter　who　had　found　the
front　lines　of　war　in　a　New　Mexico　lab。　If　the　thief　–　or　more　likely；　thieves　–　were　badly　injured
by　radiation；　they　might　crawl　away　and　die　like　poisoned　rats　in　some　hidden　hole。　How　would
he　find　them　if　they　went　to　ground？　How　could　anyone　find　them？
Less　than　two　days。
Sweat　gathered　on　Finn’s　ribs　in　spite　of　the　cool　morning。　The　canister　yawned　vacantly　at　him；
its　black　cavity　big　enough　to　swallow　a　world。
As　Finn　backed　away　from　the　canister；　the　counter’s　buzz　diminished　rapidly。　He　clicked
downward　through　the　scale；　watching　the　needle　drop。　With　a　feeling　of　relief；　he　reached　for
the　cutoff　switch。　But　the　counter　buzzed　suddenly　and　the　needle　slapped　against　its　peg。
Finn　stood　absolutely　still。　Just　when　he　thought　he　understood　the　capabilities　of　radiation；　it
ambushed　him　with　no　warning　at　all。　Silence；　then　screams。
Sweating；　Finn　reset　the　counter。　Coughlan；　standing　behind　Finn　near　the　door；　walked　toward
the　shrill…voiced　box。　The　counter　screamed　as　Coughlan　approached　the　probe。
“What　the　hell？”
Coughlan’s　question　was　cut　short　by　the　counter’s　scream　as　he　neared　the　probe。　Finn　quickly
shifted　the　dial；　diminishing　the　counter’s　sensitivity　until　the　clicks　were　crisp　and　separate
again。　He　looked　speculatively　at　Coughlan；　then　pointed　the　probe　toward　him。
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The　clicks　sped　up。
“Hey！”　said　Coughlan。　“What　the　hell　do　you　think　you’re　doing？”
“Stand　still。”
Coughlan　responded　to　the　authority　in　Finn’s　voice。　The　probe　clicked　faster　as　it　approached
Coughlan；　then　slowed　as　Finn　pulled　it　back。
“How　are　you　making　it　do　that？　What　are　those　clicks？”
“I’m　not　making　it　do　anything；”　said　Finn。　“You　are。”　Finn　moved　the　probe　again；　advancing
and　retreating　from　Coughlan。　The　clicks　rose　and　fell　in　a　ripple　of　sound。
“Whaddya　mean？”　said　Coughlan。　“Get　that　damn　thing　away　from　me！”
“You　handled　the　canister；”　said　Finn。　Before　Coughlan　could　deny　it；　Finn　pointed　the　probe　at
the　agent’s　right　hand。　“You　picked　up　the　cover；　most　likely。”
Color　drained　from　Coughlan’s　face　as　the　counter　screamed　the　answer　to　Finn’s　accusation。
Red　splotches　along　the　line　of　the　agent’s　jaw　stood　out　against　the　paleness　of　fear。
“The　thieves；”　said　Finn；　pointing　the　probe　as　though　it　were　a　flashlight　illuminating　a　dark
room；　“opened　the　can；　pulled　out　the　first　piece　and　set　it　down　near　the　lid。　Then　they　pulled
out　that；”　the　wand　pointed　at　the　dark；　solid　damper　that　had　separated　the　two　pieces　of
U…235；　“and　–　“　He　stopped　talking　abruptly。　He　knew　the　thieves　had　taken　out　the　second
piece　of　uranium　and　set　it　down　next　to　the　first；　causing　a　storm　of　radiation。　But　he　could　not
say　that　to　men　who　were　not　even　cleared　to　know　that　they　were　looking　for　uranium。
He　turned　off　the　radiation　counter。　“Riley；　I　saw　a　hose　out　front。　Drag　it　in　here。　Coughlan；
start　peeling。　When　you　get　to　your　skin；　wish　you　could　zip　out　of　it；　too。　But　you　can’t；　so
Riley　will　wash　you　down。”
“You’re　kidding；”　said　Coughlan；　but　he　could　see　that　Finn　was　not。　“For　Chrissake；　why？”
said　Coughlan；　loosening　his　tie　and　belt　even　as　he　protested。
“I　can’t　tell　you。”
Coughlan’s　hands　hovered　over　his　fly。　“So　help　me；　Finn；　if　you’re　jerking　me　off　–　“
“Peel；”　said　Finn。
Coughlan　peeled。
Oakland
3　Hours　16　Minutes　After　Trinity
Refugio　wallowed　in　a　sea　of　pain　until　the　tide　ebbed；　stranding　him　in　a　dry　reality。　He　was
facedown　on　the　front　seat　of　the　laundry　van。　Then　he　remembered　the　instant　that　the　world
had　exploded　as　Masarek　shot　him。　He　sat　and　looked　down　at　himself。　Blood。　A　lapful　of　it。
Afraid　of　what　he　would　find；　he　explored　his　lap　with　his　left　hand。
The　relief　of　finding　himself　intact　was　so　great　that　Refugio　nearly　fainted　again。　Then　came
fiery　pain　as　he　brushed　his　hand　across　his　left　thigh。
“Refugio？”　asked　Salvador　anxiously。
“It’s　all　right；”　said　Refugio；　his　eyes　closed。　“The　cabrón　shot　me　in　the　leg；　nothing　more。　How
long　was　I　out？”
“Only　a　moment。”
Refugio　opened　his　eyes　and　wiped　the　sweat　away；　leaving　bloody　streaks　everywhere　his　hand
had　been。　He　looked　into　the　back　of　the　truck。　Neither　Masarek　nor　Lopez　was　recognizable；
but　it　was　obvious　that　both　men　were　dead。
“The　blonde；”　said　Refugio；　his　voice　hoarse。　“You’ll　have　to　get　her。”
“How？”
“Go　to　the　car　in　back　of　the　van。　The　car　with　a　red　serape　in　the　back　window。　The　woman
who　came　with　Masarek　is　hiding　there。　But　be　careful。　Don’t　trust　her。”
“A　rattlesnake’s　mate　is　no　less　poisonous　for　being　female；”　said　Salvador；　leaning　over　the　seat
and　scooping　up　his　knife　and　shotgun。
“Take　her　–　“　Refugio　bit　off　a　sound　of　pain。　With　great　care；　he　straightened　slowly；　so　that
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the　waves　of　pain　did　not　make　him　dizzy。　He　pressed　his　face　against　the　cold　glass　on　the
driver’s　side；　then　rolled　down　the　window　and　peered　out。　The　cream…colored　flower　truck　was