Steal The Sun(战争间谍)-第4部分

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where　necessity　conducted　a　reign　of　terror。　Questions　slowed　reflexes；　and　reflexes　were　all　that
separated　him　from　his　dead　friends　and　enemies；　green　on　green。
The　idea　of　fighting　against　women；　of　killing　them；　had　sickened　him。　Then　he　had　learned　that
bullets　and　bayonets　had　no　sex。　Men　died　just　as　finally　when　they　were　killed　by　a　woman；　or
even　a　child。　The　jungle　made　only　one　distinction；　that　between　life　and　death。
In　Burma　he　learned　that　death；　like　the　jungle；　had　neither　sex　nor　age；　only　a　color。　He　learned
that　whatever　the　question；　survival　was　the　only　answer　that　mattered。　People　lived　and　people
died。　There　was　little　to　gain　and　too　much　to　lose　in　agonizing　over　one　death　or　one　life；　evil
or　good。　He　was　no　more　cruel　than　he　had　to　be　to　survive；　and　he　did　survive。
Yet　it　was　Okinawa；　not　Burma；　where　he　learned　the　deepest　meaning　of　horror。　Okinawa；
where　waves　broke　green　and　white　against　cliffs；　drowning　the　screams　of　children　hurtling
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down。　Okinawa；　where　babies　were　thrown　to　the　sea。
Finn　woke；　cold　and　sweating；　the　way　he　always　woke　when　Okinawa　bloomed　silently　in　his
dreams。　Yet　the　images　did　not　stop　when　he　woke　up。　They　never　did。
Every　aspect　of　Okinawa　was　unfaded；　indelible；　from　General　Groves’　curt　instructions　before
Finn　left；　to　the　children　wheeling　and　turning　like　awkward　birds　down　the　face　of　the　cliff。
He　had　been　an　observer　in　Okinawa；　not　a　soldier。　General　Groves’　surrogate。　Groves　did　not
trust　the　other　generals　to　give　Truman　accurate　reports　of　the　cost　of　the　first　American
invasion　of　a　Pacific　island　that　was　home　to　large　numbers　of　Japanese　civilians。　Groves　called
Okinawa　a　dress　rehearsal　for　Japan。　He　had　demanded　that　Finn　observe　it　as　only　a　former
jungle　fighter　could。
Finn　had　asked　why。　General　Groves　had　not　answered。
Okinawa　had　been　a　disturbing　experience　from　the　beginning。　Instead　of　fighting；　as　he　had
been　trained　to　do；　Finn　waited　safely　until　an　area　was　secure。　Then；　guarded　by　a　trio　of
seasoned　Marines；　he　went　in。　He　had　quartered　the　battle　zones　despite　the　protests　of　his
guards。　He　had　seen　the　bodies　of　Americans　and　Japanese；　and　bloody　meat　that　defied
identification。
He　could　never　remember　how　long　he　spent　on　Okinawa。　Hours　blurred　into　days；　separate
battles　coalesced　into　a　single　truth；　the　Japanese；　soldier　and　civilian　alike；　would　not　surrender。
Women　fought　alongside　men　and　children　alongside　their　parents。　But　that　was　no　more　than
Finn　had　expected；　not　different　from　Burma；　a　familiar　shade　of　green。
He　had　talked　to　a　boy　who　was　thirteen　and　ashamed　that　he　had　not　died　in　battle；　he　had　not
been　able　to　keep　up　with　the　retreating　Japanese　force。　Finn’s　Japanese　was　fluent。　Under　gentle
questioning；　the　boy　admitted　that　he　was　part　of　a　large　group　of　soldiers’　families　who　had　not
been　evacuated　in　time。
Finn　followed　a　Marine　patrol　to　the　place　where　the　boy　said　families　were　hidden。　There　the
island　was　steepsided；　eroded　by　the　sea。　Because　Finn　was　a　VIP；　he　was　not　permitted　to　risk
himself　in　what　could　be　an　ambush。　He　stayed　behind　with　his　three　guards　on　one　horn　of　a
deeply　curved　cliff　that　ile　long。　On　the　other　horn；　across　the　water；　was　a
small　clearing　along　the　cliffs　edge。　He　watched　it　through　his　binoculars；　wondering　if　the　boy’s
family　was　waiting　there。
The　worst　of　what　followed　was　the　silence。　Women　and　children　running　from　American
soldiers　until　there　was　no　place　left；　nothing　but　wind　above　and　rocks　below。　It　should　have
been　the　moment　of　surrender；　when　mothers　gathered　children　in　their　arms；　comforting　them
and　hiding　their　small　faces　from　the　enemies　running　out　of　the　jungle。
There　was　no　surrender；　no　comfort。　In　silence；　older　children　lined　up　and　threw　themselves　off
the　cliff　and　onto　the　rocks　below。　Some　died　immediately。　Younger　children　were　hurled　to
their　deaths　by　their　own　mothers；　children’s　screams　lost　in　the　wind；　mouths　black　circles　in
faces　too　young　to　understand。　The　mothers　followed　quickly；　arrow　straight；　welcoming　death
as　a　place　where　no　children　screamed。
In　his　dreams　they　spun　and　turned　and　fell　endlessly；　and　they　all　wore　a　single　face；　the　face　of　a
child　too　young　to　understand。　The　child　fell；　twisting　until　he　could　see　his　mother’s　face。　Then
he　held　out　his　arms　in　perfect　trust　that　his　mother…murderer　would　snatch　him　back　to　safety。
The　child　fell；　wrapped　in　trust　and　silence；　until　he　smashed　onto　rocks　and　only　silence　was　left。
Finn　had　lowered　the　binoculars　because　he　could　no　longer　see。　The　man　in　him　raged；　but　the
warrior　in　him　bowed　with　respect。　By　death；　if　not　by　birth；　the　women　and　their　children　were
samurai。
He　had　written　about　that　afternoon　on　the　cliff　in　one　of　his　many　reports　to　Groves；　knowing
as　he　wrote　that　the　words　were　useless；　that　nothing　could　convey　the　silence　and　the　horror；
the　mangled　families　floating　on　the　green　tide。　In　the　end　he　had　said　what　anyone　who　had
fought　the　Japanese　in　the　jungle　already　knew：　the　defeat　of　Japan　would　require　not　only　the
death　of　its　soldiers；　but　also　the　death　of　its　civilians；　its　very　culture。
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In　the　six　weeks　since　Finn　had　returned；　General　Groves　had　never　mentioned　the　report。　It　was
just　as　well。　Finn　was　not　grateful　to　the　man　who　had　sent　him　to　learn　the　last　shade　of　green。
He　shifted　his　weight　on　the　steel　chair；　closed　his　eyes　and　tried　not　to　feel　anything　at　all。
Moscow
99　Hours　Before　Trinity
（Cable　received　by　Lavrenti　Pavlovich　Beria；　head　of　the　NKVD。　Decoded。）
SHIPPING　ROUTE　MOST　CLOSELY　GUARDED　SECRET　LEFT　AT　LOS　ALAMOS。
DESTINATION　AND　APPROXIMATE　ARRIVAL　TIME　ARE　KNOWN：　HUNTERS
POINT；　SAN　FRANCISCO；　1800…2400；　15　JULY。
HUNTERS　POINT　ONLY　POSSIBLE　PLACE　TO　INTERCEPT　BRONX　SHIPMENT。
UNLESS　STOP　CODE　RECEIVED　BY　2400；　14　JULY；　OPERATION　WILL　PROCEED
TO　CONCLUSION。　VANESSA
Los　Alamos
98　Hours　Before　Trinity
Major　General　Leslie　Groves　gathered　up　papers；　among　them　Finn’s　Okinawa　report；　tapped
the　edge　of　the　packet　on　the　desk　until　they　were　lined　up　and　placed　them　on　top　of　another
neat　stack　of　reports。　He　pushed　back　from　the　desk　slowly　and　stretched；　feeling　anxiety　and
sleepless　nights　like　sand　in　his　muscles。
The　corporal　who　sat　on　a　straight　chair　at　the　far　end　of　the　office　came　to　attention。　“Sir？　Do
you　want　Captain　Finn　now？”
“No。　I’ll　get　him　myself；”　said　Groves；　walking　heavily　across　the　room。　“Out　of　the　way；
Corporal。”
The　corporal　stood；　picked　up　his　12…gauge　shotgun　and　pulled　his　chair　away　from　the　front　of
the　safe　he　guarded。　Groves　spun　the　combination　lock　several　times　and　then　bent　over　the
lock；　shielding　its　movements　with　his　body。　He　was　a　big；　balding　man　with　a　military　mustache
and　a　fleshy　face。　He　wore　dress　khakis　that　were　devoid　of　insignia　save　for　his　single　star　and
the　battlement　pins　of　the　Army　Corps　of　Engineers。
With　precise　motions；　Groves　stacked　the　papers　on　a　tray　in　the　safe　next　to　other　reports；
removed　a　box　of　chocolate　candy；　and　closed　the　safe’s　heavy　door。　It　shut　with　oiled　finality。
Automatically；　Groves　snapped　home　the　bolts　and　spun　the　dial　several　times。　He　straightened
slowly；　walked　to　his　desk　and　dropped　the　box　of　candy　on　the　polished　surface。
Behind　him；　the　corporal　resumed　his　position　in　front　of　the　safe　that　held　secrets　men　would
kill　to　steal　or　protect。
Groves　left　the　door　ajar　as　he　stepped　into　the　hallway。
The　light　was　harsh；　as　barren　of　warmth　as　the　gray　walls。　All　that　he　could　see　of　the　Manhattan
Project’s　top　counterespionage　agent　was　a　man　dozing　in　a　chair；　a　western　hat　pulled　low　over
his　eyes。　Groves　was　not　deceived　by　Finn’s　relaxed　appearance　–　he　was　as　dangerous　a　man　as
the　country　had　to　offer。
“Good　evening；　Captain；”　said　the　General。
Finn　pushed　back　his　hat　and　stood　in　a　single　motion。　He　did　not　salute；　but　Groves　no　longer
expected　him　to。　The　military　niceties　that　Groves　used　to　good　effect　around　conference　tables
were　not　appreciated　or　used　by　fighters　like　Finn。　It　was　a　measure　of　Groves’　administrative
acumen　that　he　had　won　Finn’s　wary　respect。
“Good　morning；　General。”
“Is　it　morning　already？”　Groves　checked　his　watch。　His　eyebrows　lifted。　“By　God；　it　is。”　His
thick　fingers　probed　his　eyelids。　The　pressure　of　the　Project’s　deadline　tightened　around　him　like
a　steel　noose。　“Not　enough　time；”　he　muttered。　“Never　enough　goddamned　time！　Who　the　hell
do　they　think　I　am　–　Christ？　They　give　orders　and　expect　me　to　pass　miracles　and　save　the
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fucking　world！”　His　anger　was　generalized；　inchoate。
Groves　dropped　his　hands　and　stared　at　Finn；　daring　him　to　comment。　The　sight　of　Finn；　young
and　lean　and　tough；　angered　Groves。　The　response　was　irrational。　He　knew　it；　but　did　not
particularly　care。　He　did　not　have　energy　or　time　to　care　about　anything　beyond　the　Manhattan
Project。　It　consumed　his　thoughts　and　his　health；　driving　him　beyond　the　point　where　men
break。　He　had　become　an　abrupt；　tyrannical　son　of　a　bitch；　but　he　had　not　broken。　He　had
driven　others　over　the　edge　of　sanity；　technicians　and　scientists；　yet　he　always　stopped　himself