Steal The Sun(战争间谍)-第20部分

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Masarek　lit　another　cigaret；　frowning　around　the　smoke　stinging　his　eyes。　“If　the　comrade’s
information　is　good…。”He　shrugged。　“One　guard。　Can　we　trust　the　information？”
“The　comrade　was　sure。　He　said；　‘It’s　a　naval　base　What　the　hell　do　they　need　guards　for？’　“
Masarek　grunted。　“Just　like　an　intellectual。　He　thinks　because　they　are　at　war　and　wear　uniforms
they　are　soldiers。　Fool。”
Vanessa　took　Masarek’s　cigaret；　drew　a　deep　breath　and　returned　the　cigaret　to　him。　“At　least
he’s　a　well…briefed　fool。　Someone　from　the　lab　will　inspect　the？Bronx　shipment　at　midnight。　The
uranium　will　be　stored　in　Delta　warehouse　on　the　southeastern　side　of　the　base。　The　shipment
will　be　inspected　again　at　0700　of　the　16th；　after　it’s　loaded　aboard　the　Indianapolis。　That　gives
us　seven　hours　to　steal　the　uranium。”
“Why　are　they　inspecting　this　shipment　so　often　if　they　don’t　want　to　call　attention　to　it？”　asked
Masarek。
The　question　surprised　Vanessa。　She　understood　that　radioactive　materials　could　be　dangerous；
but　she　had　seen　no　need　to　explain　that　to　Masarek。　So　long　as　he　followed　her　orders；　there
was　no　need　for　him　to　worry。
“He　didn’t　say　why。”　Vanessa　paused；　then　added；　“If　it　were　important；　he　would　have　told
us。”
Masarek　cocked　his　head　as　though　listening　to　what　Vanessa　had　not　said　as　well　as　what　she
had。　Then　he　shrugged；　pulled　hard　on　the　cigaret；　and　muttered；　“I　don’t　like　depending　on
intellectuals。”
“They　don’t　allow　assassins　or　even　ordinary　communists　at　the　Radiation　Laboratory；”　Vanessa
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remarked。　“The　Americans　are　narrow…minded　about　some　things。”
“And　stupid　about　others；　it　seems。　But　they　did　well　enough　against　the　Germans。”
“Only　after　one　million　Russians　died　at　Stalingrad。　Only　then　did　the　pig　shit　Americans　think　it
was　safe　to　open　the　Second　Front。　Do　they　think　that　Russians　died　so　that　Americans　could
rule　the　world？”　Vanessa’s　laugh　was　humorless。　“Tokyo　will　be　the　Americans’　Stalingrad。
Stealing　the　Bronx　shipment　will　be　the　same　as　killing　one　million　American　soldiers！”
Across　the　room；　Refugio　and　two　of　his　men　began　talking　in　Spanish。　Masarek　watched　them
for　a　moment　before　he　turned　back　to　Vanessa。
“When　do　you　want　me　to　kill　Refugio？”
“He’ll　try　to　kill　us　in　the　tunnel；”　said　Vanessa；　“or　at　least　to　hold　us　up　for　more　money。”
“Of　course。　So　when　do　you　want　him　dead？　I　could　kill　him　now；　I　suppose；　since　there　is　only
one　guard。”
“No。　Later。　After　we　steal　the　uranium。”
Masarek　nodded。　“The　transfer　point　would　be　best；”　he　said。　“I’ll　kill　the　Mexicans　when　we
change　vehicles　in　Oakland。　Then　we’ll　drive　to　the　tunnel；　cross　back　into　Mexico　and　have　the
uranium　on　the　first　ship　to　Russia。　Very　simple。”
“Refugio　is　not　as　simple　as　he　looks。”
Masarek　dropped　his　cigaret　onto　the　rug；　then　ground　out　the　ember　with　a　casual　twist　of　his
heel。
“I’ve　killed　many　like　him。　Cunning；　but　they　die　just　the　same。”　He　saw　Vanessa’s　sideways　look
at　Refugio。　The　Mexican　saw　it　also；　his　smile　was　as　insulting　as　a　hand　beneath　her　skirt。　“You
would　like　to　kill　him　yourself？”　suggested　Masarek。
“I　would　like；”　said　Vanessa；　“to　put　a　bullet　through　his　thick　black　peasant　hair　into　the　base
of　his　skull。”
Masarek　smiled　slightly。　“I　give　him　to　you。”
“What　about　his　men？”
Masarek　yawned。　“They’ll　be　dead　before　you　pull　the　trigger。”
Vanessa　smiled　and　put　her　hand　on　Masarek’s　cheek　where　the　curve　of　his　jaw　met　his　hairline。
“Be　sure　it’s　Refugio　who　opens　the　car　door　in　Oakland。　I’d　hate　to　kill　you　by　mistake。”
West　of　Trinity
4　Hours　40　Minutes　Before　Trinity
Lightning　raked　the　cloud　tops　and　the　desert　below。　Thunder　belled　so　close　that　it
overpowered　the　sound　made　by　the　C…46’s　laboring　engines。　Rain　fell　as　though　to　make　up　for
a　thousand　years　of　drought；　the　drops　made　a　continuous　drumming　sound。　The　plane　bucked
and　sideslipped　in　a　pocket　of　treacherous　air。
Finn　braced　himself　in　the　fold…down　seat　behind　the　copilot。　The　pilot　swore　in　a　monotone
and　fought　to　keep　the　plane　under　control。　Lightning　burst　in　a　sheet　of　incandescence　that
arched　from　horizon　to　horizon。　In　the　instant　before　Finn’s　eyes　reflexively　closed；　he　saw
separate　drops　of　sweat　stand　out　on　the　copilot’s　forehead。　Thunder　exploded　around　the
plane；　shaking　them　like　dice　in　a　cup。
“　–　of　a　bitch！”　The　copilot’s　yell　emerged　from　the　fading　thunder。　“You　won’t　be　able　to　see
anything　in　this　shit！”
The　radio　crackled　loudly。　Earlier；　the　copilot　had　turned　the　volume　on　full；　it　was　the　only　way
of　hearing　an　incoming　message。　Each　time　lightning　split　the　night；　the　radio　went　wild　with　a
blast　of　sound　that　reminded　Finn　of　the　radiation　counter　stowed　beneath　his　feet。
“…　me？　Over。”　The　radio’s　voice　was　thin；　as　though　it　had　been　pounded　flat　by　thunder。
The　copilot　switched　the　radio　to　transmit。　“This　is　Blue　One；”　he　shouted　into　the　mike。
“Repeat　last　message。　Repeat　last　message。　Over。”
“…　is　de…　ceed…　second…　target…　im…med…　you…　me？…”
The　pilot　and　copilot　looked　at　one　another。　The　pilot　shook　his　head。　“One　more　time。”
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The　copilot　leaned　over　the　mike　and　yelled；　“Blue　One　to　Blue　Three。　Repeat。　Repeat。　Repeat。
Over。”
The　radio　crackled　explosively；　echoing　nearby　lightning。
“…　test　is　delayed。　Proceed　to…　immediately…　read　me？　Over。”
The　copilot　yelled　to　Finn；　“Did　you　get　that？　The　test　is　delayed。　We’re　supposed　to　go　on　to
California。”
Finn　looked　at　his　watch。　Almost　one…thirty。　The　test　had　been　delayed　twice　already；　he　would
be　lucky　to　make　it　to　Hunters　Point　on　time。
“Let’s　go！”　yelled　Finn；　giving　a　thumb’s　up　gesture　just　as　lightning　turned　the　cockpit　white。
The　pilot　banked　steeply　away　from　the　test　site；　climbing　for　the　relative　calm　between　the
squall　lines　that　had　been　sweeping　across　the　desert　from　the　Gulf。　As　the　copilot　yelled　his
understanding　of　the　new　orders　into　the　radio；　Finn　checked　the　black　radiation　counter
between　his　feet。　It　was　intact。
Thunder　rattled　the　plane；　making　his　teeth　ache。　He　settled　himself　in　for　a　long；　unpleasant
flight。
San　Francisco；　California
1　Hour　12　Minutes　Before　Trinity
Chill　and　wild；　the　wind　off　San　Francisco　Bay　gusted　down　streets　darkened　by　wartime；
rattling　windows　where　shards　of　light　glinted　between　blackout　curtains。　Some　windows　had
not　been　covered　at　all；　showing　light　like　great　blind　eyes。　The　seamless　coastal　midnight　of
1941　had　given　way　to　complacency　as　people　shed　the　inconveniences　of　a　war　they　believed
they　had　already　won。
Unnoticed　by　anyone；　San　Francisco　had　gradually　returned　to　being　a　civilian　city。　Bakery
trucks；　laundry　trucks；　cabs；　meat　trucks；　garbage　trucks；　buses；　pimps；　whores；　cops　and　thieves
competed　for　space　on　the　city　streets。
Among　the　delivery　vehicles　moving　over　streets　glistening　with　a　condensed　fog　was　a　pale
laundry　truck　with　Chinese　ideographs　and　a　small　number　7　on　the　door。　The　truck　pulled　up　in
the　alley　behind　a　Cantonese　restaurant。　The　driver　stretched　and　slowly　got　out　to　make　the　last
civilian　stop　on　his　route；　dropping　off　clean　linen　and　picking　up　napkins　smelling　of　ginger　and
soy　sauce。
Masarek　moved　his　head　just　enough　to　watch　the　back　of　the　restaurant。　He　was　so　close　to　the
parked　truck　that　he　could　smell　oil　oozing　out　of　a　leak　in　the　crankcase。
The　driver’s　heels　grated　on　the　broken　surface　of　the　alley。　A　rectangle　of　light　bloomed　at　the
back　of　the　restaurant。
Other　than　narrowing　his　eyes；　Masarek　did　not　move　to　evade　the　light。　He　had　chosen　his
clothes　and　his　cover　well；　light　did　not　separate　him　from　the　surrounding　darkness。
The　driver　and　dishwasher　exchanged　a　few　desultory　Cantonese　obscenities　as　clean　laundry
was　traded　for　dirty。　Masarek　waited；　poised　for　the　moment　when　the　restaurant　door　would
close　and　the　sound　of　deadbolts　slamming　home　would　be　loud　in　the　alley’s　silence。
The　rectangle　of　yellow　light　vanished。　Deadbolts　thumped　into　place。　The　driver　began　closing
the　van’s　rear　doors。
Masarek　flowed　out　of　hiding　with　no　more　sound　than　the　fog。　His　right　hand　covered　the
driver’s　mouth　at　the　exact　instant　that　his　stiletto　slid　between　the　man’s　ribs　and　pierced　his
heart。
Death　was　immediate。　There　was　no　time　for　fear　or　surprise；　escape　or　error。　Masarek　heaved
the　body　on　top　of　tea…stained　tablecloths；　slammed　the　van’s　doors；　and　climbed　into　the
driver’s　seat。　The　laundryman’s　death　had　taken　less　than　three　seconds。
Refugio　was　hidden　where　the　alley　met　the　street。　At　the　sound　of　the　driver’s　door　closing；　he
gathered　himself　for　a　rush　at　the　truck；　certain　that　Masarek　had　somehow　missed　his　quarry。
The　truck　stopped　at　the　head　of　the　alley。　The　door　on　the　right　opened　soundlessly。
Page　49
“Get　in！”
Masarek’s　hissed　command　galvanized　Refugio　and　the　two　men　waiting　with　him。
“In　the　back！”
One　of　Refugio’s　men　tripped　over　the　driver’s　body。
“Madre　de　Dios！　Salvador；”　hissed　Refugio。　“You　are　as　clumsy　as　a　boy　with　his　first　woman！”
Salvador　rolled　off　the　body　with　a　curse；　checking　his　clothes　for　bloodstain