scoonts.theminotaur-第23部分

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on　top　of　a　cliff　near　the　lower　reaches　of　this　canyon。　The　cursors…cross　hairs　positioned　by　the　puter　on　the　radar　screen…rested　near　a　prominent　blip。　Toad　turned　up　the　magnification　on　the　infrared　as　he　moved　the　cursors　to　the　blip。　Yep。　That　was　the　bam　all　right。　Over　the　bam　he　cycled　the　steering　to　the　initial　point　for　the　run…in　to　the　target　and　called　the　range　on　radio。　〃November　Julie　832；　you're　cleared　in。〃　Rita　let　the　plane　drift　up　to　1；500　feet　above　the　ground。　They　bad　left　the　cliffs　and　canyons　behind　them　and　flew　now　over　almost　flat；　gently　rolling　terrain　that　was　used　for　dry…land　fanning。　Following　a　printed　checklist　on　his　kneeboard；　Toad　set　the　switches　in　the　cockpit　for　bombing。　Six　blue　twenty…five…pound　Mark　76　practice　bombs　hung　on　a　rack　under　the　right　wing；　Station　Four。　Each　of　these　little　bombs　contained　a　smoke　charge　that　would　mark　the　spot　of　impact。　The　A…6　crossed　the　initial　point；　the　IP；　and　Rita　swung　it　toward　the　target　ten　miles　east。
　The　target　lay　on　the　south　side　of　the　Columbia　River　in　fiat；　dry；　treeless　country。　The　run…in　line　was　marked　by　a　dirt　road　on　the　ground；　but　neither　Toad　nor　Rita　paid　any　attention。　During　the　minute　and　forty　seconds　it　took　the　Intruder　to　traverse　the　ten　miles　from　the　IP　to　the　target。　Toad　was　absorbed　in　getting　the　cursors　precisely　on　the　radar　reflector　that　marked　the　target　bull's…eye；　checking　the　puter　and　inertial　readouts；　using　the　infrared　for　visual　ID；　locking　up　the　target　with　the　laser　ranger…designator；　then　checking　the　information　the　puter　received　to　make　sure　it　was　valid。　Finally　he　put　the　system　into　attack。
　Even　though　the　practice　bombs　lacked　laser　seekers；　the　laser　in　Elbe　nose　turret　would　give　the　puter　more　precise　range　and　angular　information　than　the　radar　could。　Rita　was　equally　busy　flying　the　plane　and　centering　the　steering　mands　on　the　Analog　Display　Indicator；　the　ADI；　immediately　in　front　of　her。　The　infrared　and　laser　stayed　locked　to　the　radar　reflector　on　the　little　tower　that　constituted　the　target　bull's…eye　even　after　bomb　release　as　the　nose　turret　rotated。　In　the　cockpit　Toad　watched　the　picture　on　the　infrared　display　change　as　the　plane　passed　over　the　target。　He　was　looking　at　an　inverted　picture　of　the　tower　when　he　felt　the　puff　of　smoke　near　the　base　sent　up　by　the　practice　bomb。　An　excellent　hit。　
　On　the　downwind　leg　Toad　raised　his　helmet　visor　and　swabbed　his　face　with　his　gloved　hands。　This　was　work。　The　plane　was　faded　west　parallel　to　the　Columbia　River。　Rita　scanned　the　sky　around　aircraft。
　〃832；　your　hit　twenty…five　feet　at　six　o'clock。〃
　〃Roger。〃　Toad　made　a　note　on　his　kneeboard。　〃On　the　next　run；〃　he　said　to　Rita；　〃let's　do　500　knots。〃
　〃Okay。〃
　At　the　increased　speed　Toad　had　only　about　sixty…five　seconds　from　the　IP　to　bomb　release；　so　he　had　to　work　faster。　The　plane　bounced　in　the　warm　afternoon　thermals。　In　wartime　the　plane　would　race　in　toward　its　target　at　full　throttle。　The　air　could　be　full　CS　flak　and　enemy　radar　signals　probing　the　darkness　to　lock　them　up　for　a　missile　shot。　Today　over　this　Oregon　prairie　under　a　brilliant　sun；　Toad　could　visualize　how　it　would　be。　Sweat　trickled　down　his　forehead　and　into　his　eyes　as　he　manipulated　the　switches　and　knobs　of　the　equipment。　He　got　the　bomb　off　but　he　was　Struggling。　He　would　need　a　lot　of　practice　to　gain　real　proficiency；　and　today　the　equipment　was　working　perfectly；　no　one　was　shooting。
　〃A　thousand　feet　this　time；　as　fast　as　she'll　go。〃
　〃Roger；〃　Rita　said。
　As　fast　as　she'll　go　turned　out　to　be　512　knots　indicated。　On　the　next　run　they　came　at　five　hundred　feet；　then　four　hundred；　then　three。
　On　the　downwind　leg　before　their　last　run；　Toad　flipped　the　radar　switch　from　transmit　to　standby。　The　picture　disappeared　from　the　scope。　A　stealth　bomber　that　beaconed　its　position　with　radar　emissions　would　have　a　short　life　and　fiery　end。　The　infrared　was　passive；　emitting　nothing。
　As　they　crossed　the　IP　inbound；　Toad　found　the　infrared　was　still　on　the　bull's…eye　tower。　With　the　help　of　the　inertial；　the　puter　had　kept　the　cursors　there　and　the　infrared　was　slaved　to　the　cursors。　He　turned　the　laser　on　early　and　stepped　the　puter　into　attack。
　Yes；　it　could　be　done；　and　with　practice；　done　well。　Moisture　in　the　air　would　degrade　the　1R；　of　course；　but　you　couldn't　have　everything。
　As　they　crossed　the　Columbia　climbing　northwest；　the　spotting　tower　gave　them　a　call。　〃We　didn't　spot　your　last　hit。　Maybe　the　smoke　charge　didn't　go　off。〃
　Toad　checked　the　puter　readouts。　Rita　had　been　eleven　mils　off　on　steering　at　the　moment　of　weapon　release。　Toad　couldn't　resist。　He　informed　her　of　that　fact。　She　said　nothing。　〃Still；〃　Toad　added　magnanimously；　〃an　okay　job。〃　He　was　feeling　rather　pleased　with　himself。
　〃For　a　woman。〃
　〃I　didn't　say　that；　Miss　Thin　Skin。　I　said　an　okay　job。〃
　〃Look　at　the　ordnance　panel；　ace。〃　Toad　did　so。　He　had　inadvertently　selected　Station　Three　instead　of　Station　Four　for　the　last　bomb　run。　The　practice　bombs　were　on　Station　Four；　and　the　last　bomb　was　undoubtedly　still　there。　Station　Three…the　belly　station…had　been　empty；　thank　God！　Oh　damn。　And　good　ol'　Rita　had　sat　there　and　watched　him　do　it　and　hadn't　squeaked　a　word！　〃Call　Center　and　get　our　clearance　back　to　Whidbey；〃　she　said　now；　her　voice　deadpan。
　Toad　reached　for　the　radio　panel。
　
　Terry　Franklin　was　watching　television　when　he　heard　the　telephone　ring。　He　listened　for　the　second　ring；　but　it　didn't　e。　He　sat　staring　at　the　TV　screen；　no　longer　hearing　the　words　or　seeing　the　picture…
　His　wife　had　taken　the　kids　to　the　mall。　She　had　left　only　a　half　hour　ago。　How　long　would　she　be？
　He　was　trying　to　decide　just　how　much　time　he　had　when　the　phone　rang　again。　He　felt　his　muscles　tense。　Only　one　ring。
　He　turned　off　the　TV　and　got　his　coat　from　the　closet。　He　felt　in　his　pocket　for　the　keys　to　the　old　Datsun。　They　were　there。　He　snapped　off　the　living…room　lights　and　peered　between　the　curtains　at　the　street。　No　one　out　there。
　Ring；　pause；　ring；　pause；　ring。。。
　Three　rings。　The　drop　on　G　Street。　He　would　have　to　hurry　to　beat　Lucy　and　the　kids　home。　He　remembered　to　lock　the　door　behind　him。
　
　Matilda　Jackson　was　sixty…seven　years　old　and　she　was　fed　up。　Five　years　ago　she　retired　from　the　law　firm　where　she　had　worked　as　a　clerk…typist　for　twenty…six　years。　Seventeen　months　ago　she　had　made　the　last　payment　on　her　mortgage。　The　house　wasn't　much…a　run…down　row　house　in　a　run…down　neighborhood…but　by　God　it　was　hers。　And　it　was　all　she　could　afford　on　her　social　security　ine　and　the　93。57　she　got　every　month　from　the　law　firm's　pension　plan。
　The　house　had　been　something　when　she　and　Charlie　bought　it　in　1958；　and　Charlie　had　been　a　good　worker　inside　and　outside；　keeping　everything　painted　and　nice　and　the　sidewalk　swept。　But　he　had　died　of　diabetes…had　it　really　been　sixteen　years　ago？…after　they　amputated　his　feet　and　his　liver　got　bad。
　Poor　Charlie；　thank　God　he　can't　see　this　neighborhood　now；　it'd　break　his　heart。　Everything　gone　to　rack　and　ruin；　trash　everywhere；　and　those　kids　selling　dope　in　the　house　right　across　the　street；　the　house　where　ol'　lady　Melvin；　the　preacher's　widow；　used　to　live。　Some　old　man　from　New　Orleans　was　in　there　now；　she　didn't　know　his　name。
　Mrs。　Jackson　heard　a　car　stop　outside　and　peered　through　the　window。　Four　young　men　dressed　fit　to　kill　stood　on　the　sidewalk　looking　around。　Mrs。　Jackson　reached　for　her　camera；　an　ancient　Brownie；　but　she　had　loaded　it　with　some　of　that　new　film　the　man　at　the　drugstore　said　would　take　pictures　without　a　flash。　When　she　got　the　camera　ready　and　pointed　through　the　gap　in　the　drapes。　She　could　see　only　two　men。　The　other　two　must　have　gone　inside。
　Damn　those　cops　anyway。
　She　had　told　those　detectives　that　Melvin's　was　a　crack　house　and　nothing　had　happened。　They　weren't　going　to　pay　much　attention　to　a　fat　old　black　lady；　no　way。　She　had　seen　that　in　their　hard　eyes　as　they　looked　up　and　down　the　street　at　the　boarded…up　windows　and　the　trash　and　that　worthless；　shiftless　Arnold　Spivey　sitting　on　Wilson's　stoop　drinking　from　a　bottle　in　a　paper　bag。
　She　was　going