cyclops-第48部分
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Pitt gave him a sharp look。 〃The truth as I know it is； you and your team searched for the Cyclops and vanished。 Your wife and the rest of us went after the shipwreck in hopes we could get a clue as to what happened to you。 Tell me where it rings false。〃
LeBaron wiped newly formed sweat from his forehead with his sleeve。 〃No use in arguing with me； Dirk； I'm not the one who doesn't believe you。 The Russian mentality thinks there is a lie behind every truth。〃
〃You've talked with Jessie。 Surely she explained how we happened to find the Cyclops and land on the island。〃
LeBaron visibly winced at Pitt's mention of the Cyclops。 He suddenly seemed to recoil from Pitt。 He picked up his canvas bag and pounded on the door。 It swung open almost immediately and he was gone。
Foss Gly was waiting when LeBaron entered room six。 He sat there； a brooding evil； a human murder machine immune to suffering or death。 He smelled of decayed meat。
LeBaron stood trembling and silently handed over the canvas bag。 Gly rummaged inside and drew out a small recorder and rewound the tape。 He listened for a few seconds to satisfy himself that the voices were distinct。
〃Did he confide in you？〃 asked Gly。
〃Yes； he made no attempt to hide anything。〃
〃Is he working for the CIA？〃
〃I don't believe so。 His landing on the island was merely an accident。〃
Gly came from behind the desk and grabbed the loose skin on the side of LeBaron's waist； squeezing and twisting in the same motion。 The publisher's eyes bulged； gasping as the agony pierced his body。 He slowly sank to his knees on the concrete。
Gly bent down until he stared with frozen malignancy scant inches from LeBaron's eyes。 〃Do not screw with me； scum；〃 he said menacingly； 〃or your sweet wife will be the next one who pays with a mutilated body。〃
Ira Hagen threw Hudson and Eriksen a curve and bypassed Houston。 There was no need for the trip。 The puter on board his jet told him all he needed to know。 A trace of the Texas phone number in General Fisher's black book led to the office of the director of NASAs Flight Operations； Irwin Mitchell； alias Irwin Dupuy。 A check of another name on the list； Steve Larson； turned up Steve Busche； who was director of NASAs Flight Research Center in California。
Nine little Indians； and then there were four。 。 。
Hagen's tally of the 〃inner core〃 now read：
Raymond LeBaron。。。。Last reported in Cuba。
General Mark Fisher。。。lorado Springs。
Clyde Booth。。。。Albuquerque。
Irwin Mitchell。。。。Houston。
Steve Busche。。。。California。
Dean Beagle （？）。。。。Philadelphia。 （ID and location not proven）
Daniel Klein （？）。。。。Washington； D。C。 （ditto）
Leonard Hudson。。。。Maryland。 （location not proven）
Gunnar Eriksen。。。。Maryland。 （ditto）
His deadline was only sixty…six hours away。 He had kept the President advised of his progress and warned him that his investigation would be cutting it thin。 Already； the President was putting together a trusted team to gather up members of the 〃inner core〃 and transport them to a location the President had yet to specify。 Hagen's ace card was the proximity of the last three names on the list。 He was gambling they were all sitting in the same basket。
Hagen altered his routine and did not waste time renting a car when his plane landed at Philadelphia International Airport。 His pilot had called ahead； and a Lincoln limousine was waiting when he stepped down the stairway。 During the twenty…four…mile drive along the Schuylkill River to Valley Forge State Park； he worked on his report to the President and formulated a plan to speed the discovery of Hudson and Eriksen； whose joint phone number turned out to be a disconnected number in an empty house near Washington。
He closed his briefcase as the car rolled past the park where George Washington's army had camped during the winter of 1777…78。 Many of the trees still bore golden leaves and the rolling hills had yet to turn brown。 The driver turned onto a road that wound around a hill overlooking the park and was bordered on both sides by old stone walls。
The historic Horse and Artillery Inn was built in 1790 as a stagecoach stop and tavern for colonial travelers and sat amid sweeping lawns and a grove of shade trees。 It was a picturesque three…story building with blue shutters and a stately front porch。 The inn was an original example of early limestone farm architecture and bore a plaque designating it as listed on the National Register of Historic Places。
Hagen left the limousine； climbed the steps to the porch furnished with old…fashioned rockers； and passed into a lobby filled with antique furniture clustered around a cozy fireplace containing a crackling log。 In the dining room he was shown to a table by a girl dressed in colonial costume。
〃Is Dean around？〃 he asked casually。
〃Yes； sir；〃 answered the girl brightly； 〃The Senator is in the kitchen。 Would you like to see him？〃
〃I'd be grateful if he could spare me a few minutes。〃
〃Would you like to see a menu in the meantime？〃
〃Yes； please。〃
Hagen scanned the menu and found the list of early American dishes to be quite tempting。 But his mind didn't really dwell on food。 Was it possible； he thought； that Dean Beagle was Senator Dean Porter； who once chaired the powerful Foreign Relations mittee and narrowly lost a presidential primary race to George McGovern？ A member of the Senate for nearly thirty years； Porter had left an indelible mark on American politics before he had retired two years ago。
A baldheaded man in his late seventies walked through a swinging door from the kitchen； wiping his hands on the lower edge of an apron。 An unimpressive figure with a grandfatherly face。 He stopped at Hagen's table and looked down without expression。 〃You wish to see me？〃
Hagen came to his feet。 〃Senator Porter。〃
〃Yes。
〃My name is Ira Hagen。 I'm a restaurateur myself； specializing in American dishes； but not nearly as creative as your recipes。〃
〃Leo told me you might walk through my door；〃 Porter said bluntly。
〃Won't you please sit down。〃
〃You staying for dinner； Mr。 Hagen？〃
〃That was my plan。〃
〃Then permit me to offer you a bottle of local wine on the house。〃
〃Thank you。〃
Porter called over his waitress and gave the order。 Then he turned back to Hagen and looked him solidly in the eye。 〃How many of us have you tagged？〃
〃You make six；〃 Hagen answered。
〃You're lucky you didn't go to Houston。 Leo had a reception mittee waiting for you。〃
〃Were you a member of the ‘inner core' from the beginning； Senator？〃
〃I came on board in 1964 and helped set up the undercover financing。〃
〃I pliment you on a first…rate job。〃
〃You're working for the President； I take it。〃
〃Correct。〃
〃What does he intend to do with us？〃
〃Eventually hand out the honors you all so richly deserve。 But his main concern is stopping your people on the moon from starting a war。〃
Porter paused when the waitress brought over a bottle of chilled white wine。 He expertly pulled the cork and poured one glass。 He took a large sip and swished the wine around in his mouth and nodded。 〃Quite good。〃 Then he filled Hagen's glass。
〃Fifteen years ago； Mr。 Hagen； our government made a stupid mistake and gave away our space technology in a sucker play that was heralded as a ‘handshake in space'。 If you remember； it was a much publicized joint venture between American and Russian space programs that called for our Apollo astronauts to team up and meet with the Soyuz cosmonauts in orbit。 I was against it from the beginning； but the event occurred during the détente years and my voice was only a cry in the wilderness。 I didn't trust the Russians then and I don't trust them now。 Their whole space program was built on political propaganda and damned little technical achievement。 We exposed the Russians to American technology that was twenty years ahead of theirs。 After all this time Soviet space hardware is still crap next to anything we've created。 We blew four hundred million dollars on a scientific giveaway。 The fact we kissed the Russian
