scoonts.theminotaur-第66部分

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　young　female　body　under　him　mingling　her　sweat　with　his。　She　didn't　have　a　face；　this　girl　in　his　dreams；　but　she　had　firm　brown　tits　and　a　flat　stomach　and　long　brown　legs　with　taut　thighs。
　When　he　turned　the　key　in　the　car　ignition　the　radio　boomed　to　life　as　the　engine　caught。　〃。。。like　a　bat　outta　hell；　ba…dupe；　ba…dupey。。。〃
　He　rolled　the　window　down　and　fastened　his　seat　belt　and　patted　the　steering　wheel　with　his　hands　in　time　to　the　music。
　The　car　in　front　of　him　turned　right　after　four　blocks；　and　the　one　behind　turned　left　a　block　later。　Terry　Franklin　paid　no　attention。　He　drove　out　onto　an　old　boulevard　now　lined　with　small　strip　businesses　and　proceeded　about　a　mile　before　he　swung　the　car　onto　a　side　street。　He　liked　to　drive　through　these　quiet　residential　streets　because　they　had　so　little　traffic　and　he　thought　he　made　better　time；　though　he　had　never　clocked　it。
　At　the　first　stop　sign　he　came　to；　a　little　girl　was　crossing　the　street　pushing　a　miniature　baby　carriage　containing　her　doll。　That　she　had　chosen　to　cross　the　street　at　just　this　time　and　place　probably　gave　Terry　Franklin　another　minute　of　life。
　One　minute　was　just　about　the　time　it　took　for　him　to　wait　until　the　little　girl　was　clear；　depress　the　accelerator　and　cruise　down　to　the　next　cross　street。　He　glanced　both　ways；　no　traffic；　and　took　his　foot　off　the　brake　to　roll　on　through。　〃。。。like　a　bat　outta　hell。。。〃
　That's　when　the　bomb　underneath　the　vehicle；　directly　under　the　driver's　seat；　exploded。
　Terry　Franklin　felt　a　concussive　impact　as　his　knees　came　up　to　smash　into　his　chin；　but　that　was　the　only　sensation　that　he　was　conscious　of　in　the　thousandth　of　a　second　he　had　left　to　live。　The　floor　of　the　car　came　apart　and　the　seat　springs　and　fabric　and　padding　were　all　forced　explosively　upward。　His　skull　popped　like　a　ripe　melon　when　this　rising；　accelerating　column　on　which　he　sat　smashed　into　the　roof　of　the　car　and　bowed　it　upward。　The　windows　exploded　outward　as　the　fireball　continued　to　expand；　showering　the　area　with　glass。　Fragments　of　springs　and　plastic　and　fabric　were　forced　deep　into　Terry　Franklin's　now　lifeless　corpse；　which　began　to　sear　from　the　intense　heat
　The　car；　still　in　gear　and　torn　almost　in　two；　moved　like　a　wounded　crab　diagonally　across　the　intersection　and　lightly　impacted　a　parked　vehicle。　Then　the　engine　quit　from　fuel　starvation。　The　severed　fuel　line　dumped　its　liquid　into　the　molten　mess　in　the　center　of　the　vehicle　and　the　smoldering　wreckage　became　an　inferno。　In　ten　seconds　the　fire　was　so　hot　the　fuel　tank　exploded。
　
　ing　around　the　corner　four　blocks　away；　FBI　agent　Clarence　Brown　saw　the　rising　fireball　from　the　exploding　gas　tank。　He　grabbed　the　dash…mounted　mike。　〃Holy　shit；　his　car　blew　up。　It　blew　up！　The　subject's　car　blew　up！〃
　The　voice　on　the　telephone　had　a　hollow；　metallic　sound；　like　it　was　ing　through　a　long　pipe。　〃Little　development　I　thought　you　would　want　to　know　about；　Luis。　Probably　nothing　important。　Terry　Franklin　just　went　out　with　a　bang。　His　car　blew　up。〃
　〃Anybody　else　hurt；　Dreyfus？〃
　〃Not　another　soul。　We　had　an　agent　following　him；　keeping　tabs　per　your　instructions；　and　he　saw　the　gas　tank　go　poof。　The　lab　guys　are　on　the　way。　The　agent　at　the　scene；　Brown；　says　it　looks　like　a　bomb。〃
　〃What　time；　exactly？〃
　〃Sixteen　fifty…seven。〃
　Camacho　looked　at　his　watch。　Seventeen　minutes　ago。　〃Get　a　search　warrant　for　his　house。〃
　〃Already　doing　the　affidavit。〃
　〃Send　a　man　over　to　the　house　to　watch　it。　And　you'd　better　alert　somebody　out　in　California　that　they'll　have　to　do　a　next…of…km　notification　when　we　get　a　positive　ID　from　the　medical　examiner。〃
　〃The　ID's　gonna　take　a　while。　The　corpse　is　still　in　the　car；　roasted　like　a　Christmas　turkey。〃
　〃Have　the　people　in　California　quietly　check　to　see　that　his　wife　sad　in…laws　are　physically　there。〃
　〃You　knew　this　was　going　to　happen；　didn't　you？〃
　〃I　just　follow　orders；　asshole；〃　Camacho　snarled。　〃Why　don't　you　do　the　same？〃　He　slammed　the　phone　onto　its　cradle。
　Two　minutes　later　it　rang　again。　〃Yes。〃
　〃Dreyfus　again。　Already　we're　getting　calls　from　TV　stations。　There's　a　chopper　overhead　now。　It's　real　visual　with　the　smoke　column　and　all。　Evening　news　for　sure；　distraught　housewives　and　sobbing　kids；　the　whole　bit。　What's　the　official　hot　screaming　poop？〃
　〃We're　investigating；　cooperating　with　the　local　police。　Off　the　record；　hint　at　drugs。〃
　〃Roger　hint。〃
　〃Is　local　law　on　the　scene？〃
　〃Yeah。　Couple　cruisers　and　a　big　red　fire　truck。〃
　〃Don't　let　'em　touch　anything。〃
　〃Roger　Wilco；　over　and　out。〃
　
　Luis　Camacho　pulled　into　his　driveway　at　five　minutes　after　midnight　and　checked　the　jury…rigged　bulb　in　the　hole　in　the　door　panel。　Still　off。　Amen。
　The　night　air　retained　some　of　the　heat　from　the　day。　The　FBI　agent　stood　in　his　shirt　sleeves　beside　his　car　and　breathed　the　deep；　rich　scent　of　the　earth。
　The　neighborhood　was　quiet。　He　could　hear　crickets。
　All　the　lights　were　off　in　Harlan　Albright's　house。　Only　a　gleam　of　the　hall　light　was　visible　through　the　window　of　his　own　door。　Camacho　picked　up　the　package　on　his　front　seat　and　locked　his　car；　then　used　his　key　on　the　front　door。　He　shot　the　bolt　behind　him。
　There　was　a　note　by　the　phone。　Albright　had　called。
　Camacho　poured　himself　a　bourbon　and　added　three　ice　cubes　from　the　tray　in　the　freezer。　He　opened　the　kitchen　door　and　stood　there　sipping　his　drink　and　looking　at　the　shadows　in　the　backyard。　The　dog　whined　and　wagged　its　tail。
　Taking　his　time；　Camacho　strolled　the　length　of　the　yard　and　seated　himself　in　the　tire　swing　hanging　from　the　old　oak。　He　absently　petted　the　dog　and　made　forting　noises　as　he　sipped　the　liquor　and　let　the　alcohol　take　effect
　It　would　be　interesting　to　see　how　many　of　those　servos　were　still　in　Albright's　mad　bomber　kit。　And　the　batteries　and　fuses。
　You　sure　had　to　take　your　hat　off　to　Peter　Aleksandrovich；　a…ka　good　ol'　Harlan；　Terry　Franklin's　sudden　end　had　been　a　nice　tidy　job。　No　loose　ends。　No　secondary　casualties　that　might　fester　into　an　eventual　murder　indictment　that　would　make　a　spy　swap　impossible；　should　the　worst　happen　and　he　get　arrested　by　the　FBI。　Terry　Franklin　had　been　very　neatly　and　permanently　silenced。　Scratch　one　asset…turned…debit。　Clean　up　that　balance　sheet。　Wipe　off　the　red　ink；　and；　mild！　we　have　a　profitable　enterprise；　as　anyone　can　plainly　see。
　Good　ol'　Harlan's　house　was　as　dark　as　a　tomb。　The　big　maples　in　front　shielded　it　from　the　streetlights　and　the　oaks　and　beeches　here　in　back　performed　a　similar　service　with　that　little　alley　light。　So　the　house　was　just　a　looming　black　shape。
　Camacho　thought　about　the　stairs　up　to　the　bedroom；　pictured　himself　once　again　slipping　up　there；　careful　as　a　mouse；　looking　for　booby　traps；　prying　open　the　trapdoor　to　the　attic…he　shivered　as　he　thought　about　it。　Good　ol'　Harlan　would　probably　rig　some　more　unpleasant　surprises；　tike　plastique　that　goes　boom　when　the　someone　ing　into　a　room　steps　in　the　wrong　place；　or　forgets　to　turn　the　light　on　and　off　three　times　in　three　seconds。　Good　ol'　Harlan　would　be　just　the　man　for　a　little　rig　like　that。
　Wonder　if　Harlan's　found　the　blank　film　in　the　camera？　Had　Camacho　been　careful　enough　with　the　operation？　Had　he　tripped　a　camera　he　didn't　find？　If　so；　that　bulb　in　the　door　would　e　on　very　soon。
　His　fatigue　hit　him　all　at　once。　It　was　all　he　could　do　to　walk　back　to　the　house；　lock　the　door；　and　ascend　the　stairs。　He　stripped　off　his　clothes　and　fell　into　bed。
　
　〃I　don't　want　to　ever　get　married；〃　Rita　said。
　〃Me　neither；〃　Toad　Tarkington　agreed　fervently。　〃Half　the　marriages　fail；　kids　in　single…parent　households；　everybody　broke…who　needs　it？〃　It　was　a　pretty　Saturday　morning　and　they　were　on　their　way　to　a　restaurant　for　breakfast；　with　Toad　at　the　wheel。
　〃People　should　be　free　to　have　a　relationship　without　being　bound；〃　she　said。
　〃When　two　people　break　up　they　shouldn't　have　to　hire　lawyers　to　fight　over　the　dog。〃
　〃Marriage　is　an　obsolete　institution。〃
　〃It's　doomed；〃　Toad　pronounced；　sounding　a　good　bit　like　Samuel　Dodgers　denouncing　sin；　which　was　probably　unintentional。　But　to　prove　he　wasn't　a　bigot　he