mreilly.icestation-第51部分

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I〃　it　sounded　like　〃Ah〃…How　can　ah　help　you？　
　Cameron　said；　〃Yes；　hi。　I'm　looking　for　a　Mr。　Andrew　Wilcox。〃　Cameron　held　up　the　business　card。　〃My　name　is　Peter　Cameron。　I'm　a　writer　for　the　Washington　Post。　Mr。　Wilcox　sent　me　his　card。〃　
　The　smile　on　the　young　man's　face　vanished　instantly。　
　His　eyes　swept　Cameron's　body　as　if　evaluating　him。　Then　they　swept　the　street　outside　as　if　to　see　whether　anyone　was　watching　the　house。　
　And　then　suddenly　the　man's　attention　returned　to　Cameron。　
　〃Mr。　Cameron；〃　he　said；　opening　the　screen　door。　〃Please；　e　inside。　I　was　hoping　you'd　e；　but　I　didn't　expect　to　see　you　so　soon。　Please；　please；　e　inside。〃　
　Cameron　stepped　through　the　doorway。　
　It　didn't　occur　to　him　until　he　was　fully　inside　the　house　that　the　man's　Southern　accent　had　pletely　disappeared。　
　
　〃Mr。　Cameron；　my　real　name　is　not　Andrew　Wilcox；〃　the　young　man　now　sitting　opposite　him　said。　The　drawl　was　gone；　replaced　by　a　voice　that　was　clear　and　precise；　educated。　East　Coast。　
　Pete　Cameron　had　his　pad　and　pen　out。　〃Can　you　tell　me　your　real　name？〃　he　asked　gently。　
　The　young　man　seemed　to　think　about　that　for　a　moment；　and　as　he　did　so；　Cameron　got　a　better　look　at　him。　He　was　a　tall　man；　handsome；　too；　with　blond　hair　and　a　square　jaw。　He　had　broad　shoulders　and　he　looked　physically　fit。　But　there　was　something　wrong　about　him。　
　It　was　the　eyes；　Cameron　realized。　
　They　were　tinged　with　red。　Heavy　black　sacks　hung　beneath　both　of　them。　He　looked　like　a　man　on　the　edge；　a　man　who　hadn't　slept　in　days。　
　And　then；　at　last；　the　man　spoke。　〃My　real　name；〃　he　said；　〃is　Andrew　Trent。〃　
　
　
　
　〃I　used　to　be　a　First　Lieutenant　in　the　Marines；〃　Andrew　Trent　explained；　〃in　mand　of　an　Atlantic…based　Reconnaissance　unit。　But　if　you　examine　the　official　USMC　records；　you'll　find　that　I　died　in　an　accident　in　Peru　in　March　1997。〃　
　Trent　spoke　in　a　low；　even　voice；　a　voice　tinged　with　bitterness。　
　〃So；　you're　a　dead　man；〃　Pete　Cameron　said。　〃Nice；　very　nice。　OK；　first　question：　why　me？　Why　did　you　contact　me？〃　
　〃I've　seen　your　work；〃　Trent　said。　〃I　like　it。　Mother　Jones。　The　Post。　You　tell　it　straight。　You　also　don't　just　write　down　the　first　thing　you　hear。　You　check　things　out　and　because　of　that；　people　believe　you。　I　need　people　to　believe　what　I'm　going　to　tell　you。〃　
　〃If　it's　worth　telling　in　the　first　place；〃　Cameron　said。　〃All　right；　then；　how　is　it　that　according　to　the　United　States　Government　you　are　officially　dead？〃　
　Trent　offered　Cameron　a　half…smile；　a　smile　totally　devoid　of　humor。　〃If　it's　worth　telling　in　the　first　place；〃　he　repeated。　〃Mr。　Cameron；　what　if　I　were　to　tell　you　that　the　government　of　the　United　States　of　America　ordered　that　my　whole　unit　be　killed？〃　
　Cameron　was　silent。　
　〃What　if　I　were　to　tell　you　that　our　government…yours　and　mine…planted　men　inside　my　unit　for　the　sole　purpose　of　killing　me　and　my　men　in　the　event　that　we　found　something　of　immense　technological　value　during　a　mission？　
　〃What　if　I　were　to　tell　you　that　that　was　exactly　what　happened　in　Peru　in　March　1997？　What　would　you　think　then；　Mr。　Cameron？　If　I　told　you　all　that；　then　do　you　think　my　story　would　be　worth　telling？〃　
　
　Trent　then　told　Cameron　about　what　had　happened　inside　the　ruins　of　the　Incan　temple　high　in　the　mountains　of　Peru　in　March　of　1997。　
　A　team　of　university　researchers　who　had　been　working　inside　the　temple　had　apparently　discovered　a　series　of　frescoes　chiseled　into　its　stone　walls。　Magnificent　coloured　frescoes　that　depicted　scenes　from　Incan　history。　
　One　of　the　frescoes　in　particular　had　captured　their　attention。　
　It　depicted　a　scene　not　unlike　the　famous　painting　of　the　Incan　king；　Atahuallpa；　meeting　the　Spanish　conquistadors。　
　On　the　left…hand　side　of　the　fresco　stood　the　Incan　king；　in　full　ceremonial　dress；　surrounded　by　his　people。　He　was　holding　a　golden　chalice　in　his　outstretched　hands。　A　gift。　
　On　the　right…hand　side　of　the　fresco　stood　four　strange…looking　men。　Unlike　the　olive…skinned　Incans；　their　skin　was　bone　white。　And　they　were　thin；　unnaturally　thin…tall；　emaciated。　They　had　large　black　eyes　and　round…domed　foreheads。　They　also　had　pointed；　narrow　chins　and…bizarrely…　no　mouths。　
　In　the　carved　stone　picture；　the　leader　of　this　delegation　of　tall　white　〃men〃　was　holding　a　silver　box　in　his　outstretched　hands；　reciprocating　the　gesture　of　the　Incan　king　in　front　of　him。　
　It　was　an　exchange　of　gifts。　
　〃How　long　did　it　take　them　to　find　it？〃　Cameron　asked　dryly。　
　〃Not　long；〃　Trent　said。　
　As　Trent　explained；　they　found　the　object　of　their　search　mounted　on　a　pedestal　not　far　from　the　fresco　itself；　a　small　stone　pedestal　sunken　into　the　wall　of　the　temple。　
　It　just　sat　there。　All　on　its　own。　It　was　about　the　size　of　a　shoe　box　and　the　color　of　chrome。　
　It　was　the　silver　box　from　the　fresco。　
　〃Those　scientists　couldn't　believe　their　luck；〃　Trent　said。　〃They　called　their　university　back　in　the　States　right　away　and　told　them　what　they'd　found。　Told　them　that　they　may　have　discovered　a　gift　from　an　alien　civilization。〃　
　Trent　shook　his　head。　〃Stupid　bastards。　They　did　it　over　a　telephone　line。　An　open　goddamn　telephone　line。　Hell；　anyone　could　have　heard　them。　My　unit　was　sent　in　to　protect　mem　from　anyone　who　did。〃　
　Trent　leaned　forward　in　his　chair。　
　〃The　problem　was；　it　wasn't　really　my　unit。〃　
　Trent　went　on　to　tell　Cameron　about　what　had　happened　after　his　unit's　arrival　at　the　temple…in　particular；　how　several　of　his　own　men　had　turned　on　him　when　the　SEAL　team　had　arrived　at　the　temple。　
　〃Mr。　Cameron。　The　order　to　plant　men　in　my　unit　came　from　a　government　mittee　called　the　Intelligence　Convergence　Group；〃　Trent　said。　〃It's　a　joint　mittee　made　up　of　members　of　the　Joint　Chiefs　of　Staff　and　the　National　Reconnaissance　Office。　Put　simply；　its　primary　objective　is　to　secure　for　America　technological　superiority　over　the　rest　of　the　world。　
　〃They　killed　my　unit；　Mr。　Cameron。　My　whole　unit。　And　then　they　hunted　me。　For　twelve　days；　they　scoured　that　temple　looking　for　me。　American　soldiers；　hunting　me。　I　stood　squeezed　into　a　small　fissure　in　a　wall；　being　dripped　on　by　stinking　seepage；　for　twelve　days　before　they　gave　up　and　left。〃　
　Cameron　said；　〃What　happened　to　the　university　researchers？〃　
　Trent　shook　his　head。　〃The　SEALs　took　them　away。　They　were　never　heard　from　again。〃　
　Cameron　fell　silent。　
　Trent　went　on。　〃Eventually；　I　got　out　of　that　temple　and　made　it　back　to　the　States。　It　took　a　while；　but　I　got　there　in　the　end。　The　first　place　I　went　was　my　parents'　house。　But　when　I　got　there　I　saw　two　guys　sitting　in　a　van　across　the　street；　watching　the　house。　They　had　people　there；　waiting　for　me　to　e　back。〃　
　Trent's　face　went　cold。　〃That　was　when　I　decided　to　find　out　who'd　been　behind　it　all。　It　didn't　take　me　long　to　find　a　trail；　and　at　the　end　of　that　trail。　I　found　the　ICG。〃　
　Cameron　found　that　he　was　staring　at　Trent。　He　blinked　out　of　it。　
　〃OK。　Right；〃　he　said；　regaining　his　posure。　〃This　ICG；　you　say　it's　a　joint　mittee；　right？　Made　up　of　members　of　the　Joint　Chiefs　of　Staff　and　the　National　Reconnaissance　Office；　right？〃　
　〃That's　correct；〃　Trent　said。　
　〃OK。〃　Cameron　knew　about　the　Joint　Chiefs　of　Staff；　but　he　knew　little　about　the　National　Reconnaissance　Office。　It　was　the　intelligence　agency　charged　with　procuring；　launching；　and　operating　all　of　America's　spy　satellites。　Its　secrecy　was　legendary；　it　was　one　of　the　few　agencies　that　was　allowed　to　operate　under　a　〃black〃　budget…a　budget　that；　because　of　the　sensitivity　of　its　subject　matter；　did　not　have　to　be　disclosed　to　Senate　Finance　mittees。　Throughout　the　Cold　War；　the　U。S。　Government　had　consistently　refused　to　acknowledge　the　NRO's　existence。　It　was　only　in　1991；　in　the　face　of　mounting　evidence；　that　the　government　finally　caved　in　and　acknowledged　that　it　did　exist。　
　Trent　said；　〃The　ICG　is　a　marriage　of　two　of　the　most　powerful　agencies　in　this　country…the　supreme　manding　body　of　all　of　our　armed　forces　and　the　most　secret　arm　of　our　intelligence　munity。〃　
　〃And　its　job　is…what　did　you　say？…'to　secure　technological　superiority'　for　America？〃　
　〃Its　job；〃　Trent　said；　〃is