Steal The Sun(战争间谍)-第57章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


When　she　spotted　Finn；　she　called　Slaven　over。　The　big　longshoreman　stood　so　that　he　could
look　over　Vanessa’s　shoulder　without　exposing　himself　to　the　street。
“The　tall　man　in　the　white　shirt　–　see　him？”　Vanessa　said。
“Yes。”
“Remember　him。　When　he　leaves；　follow　him。　When　you　can；　kill　him。”
She　turned　away　from　the　window；　took　a　map　from　her　purse；　and　began　tracing　possible
routes　to　Manzanar。
Northern　California
29　Hours　43　Minutes　After　Trinity
The　gas　station　attendant　watched　Ana　count　ration　coupons　and　dollars　into　his　hand。　He　gave
her　change；　a　perfunctory　leer；　and　moved　on　to　his　next　customer。
Ana　started　the　car　and　drove　around　to　the　back　where　the　restrooms　were。　Kestrel　was　not　in
sight。　She　turned　on　the　car　radio　and　waited；　half…dozing；　the　radio　a　commentary　on　her
hidden　fears。
“…　ports　and　borders　of　the　state　are　still　closed。　The　War　Office；　when　asked；　had　no
comment　other　than　the　original　statement　that　the　closure　has　to　do　with　matters　of　utmost
national　security。　So　for　you　folks　planning　a　drive　to　Mexico；　our　advice　is　–　don’t。　Only
Page　125
emergency　vehicles　are　allowed　across；　and　only　then　after　a　careful　search。”
“The　Longshoremen’s　Union　says　it　will　enter　a　formal　protest　unless　port　and　shipping
activities　are　returned　to　normal　by　midnight；　July　19th。”
“In　other　Bay　Area　news；　the　San　Francisco　police　say　that　they　have　no　new　leads　on　the
spectacular　quadruple　murder　on　the　Oakland　waterfront　yesterday　morning。　The　–　“
Ana　snapped　off　the　radio；　she　had　enough　pictures　in　her　head　of　the　murders；　she　had　no　need
of　the　radio　announcer’s　speculations。
Kestrel　opened　the　driver’s　door。　Ana　slid　over　to　make　room　for　him。　Without　speaking；
Kestrel　got　in；　started　the　car　and　headed　east；　toward　the　tall　mountains　that　were　still　so　far
they　were　only　a　blue　shadow　on　the　horizon。
Covertly；　Ana　studied　Kestrel。　Disguised　as　an　Indio；　he　was　a　blunt…faced；　coarse…seeming
stranger。　Beneath　his　disguise；　he　was　fine…boned；　almost　elegant；　but　still　a　stranger。　And　a
murderer；　and　her　lover。
Ana　leaned　against　her　locked　door；　closed　her　eyes　and　tried　not　to　think。　In　time；　she　began
whimpering　uneasily　as　her　mind　reshaped　the　last　two　days　into　frightening　red　dreams。　Kestrel
spoke　to　her　softly；　his　voice　sliding　between　the　spaces　of　her　fears；　calming　her。　When　his
fingers　lightly　caressed　her　cheek；　she　sighed　and　slipped　deeper　into　sleep。
San　Francisco
30　Hours　33　Minutes　After　Trinity
Damp；　sinuous　hills　curved　away　in　every　direction；　brilliant　green　on　green　that　emphasized　the
white　of　grave　markers。　Soft　blurs　of　color　glowed　where　people　had　left　bouquets　to　die　among
the　white　stone　forest。
The　cemetery　reflected　the　pretensions　of　San　Francisco’s　wealthy　and　the　aspirations　of　its
poorest　immigrants。　Huge　alabaster　angels　hovered　over　marble　crypts。　Simple　granite
headstones　told　of　families　born　on　the　eastern　fringe　of　America　and　buried　along　its　western
margin。　Crosses　engraved　with　ideographs　spoke　succinctly　of　Oriental　Christians　dying　in　an
alien　land。　Baroque　Spanish　crosses　depicted　Christ　crucified；　writhing　in　eternal　agony　over　the
graves　of　Mexican　immigrants。
Finn　and　Riley　stood　near　the　top　of　one　hill；　watching　unhappy　FBI　agents　dig　in　damp　clay。
The　turf　had　been　peeled　back　and　stacked　to　one　side；　revealing　freshly　packed　graves。　The
work　had　gone　quickly；　the　graves　were　less　than　two　days　old。
The　radiation　counter　next　to　Finn　was　smudged　with　dirt。　He　and　Riley　had　dug　up　their
assigned　grave；　opened　the　coffin　and　found　a　dead；　nonradioactive　old　woman；　her　hands　stiffly
crossed。　The　other　two　graves　were　being　opened　by　less　dedicated　workers　than　Finn　and
Riley。
Looking　at　his　blistered　hands；　Riley　swore。　“I　hope　to　Christ　we　get　more　to　show　for　this　than
raw　meat。”
“Is　that　Coughlan？”　asked　Finn；　pointing　down　the　rise　to　one　of　the　thin　gravel　roads　that
wound　through　the　hilly　cemetery。
Riley　squinted　against　the　morning　sun。　Two　men　were　walking　away　from　one　of　the
nondescript　cars　favored　by　the　FBI。
“Yeah。　That’s　Coughlan。”
“Who’s　with　him？”
Riley　shrugged。　“He’s　not　FBI。　No　hat。”
“You’re　not　wearing　a　hat　either；”　Finn　pointed　out。
“I’m　the　Son　of　God；”　said　Riley。　“Remember？”
“Not　a　job　I’d　want。”
They　walked　down　the　hill　to　intercept　Coughlan；　meeting　near　the　gravesite　where　two　agents
stood　chest　deep　in　the　earth；　wielding　shovels。　The　man　with　Coughlan　was　a　Mexican；　past
middle　age；　heavyset　and　sullen。　Coughlan　ignored　him。
Page　126
“We’re　chasing　Rincons　all　over　the　place。　We　came　up　with　a　hearse　and　a　flower　truck　so　far；”
Coughlan　told　Finn。　“Nothing　in　either　of　them　but　Mexicans。”
“Did　they　say　anything？”
“Just　that　they　were　taking　their　families　on　a　trip。”
“How　was　their　English？”
“Lousy。　But　I　got　the　point　across。”
“I’ll　bet。　Speak　slowly；　and　if　that　doesn’t　work；　shout。”
Coughlan　flushed。　“I　got　answers。　They　were　going　to　Monterey　on　a　vacation。　They　hadn’t　seen
Refugio　recently；　and　they’d　never　even　heard　of　a　Jap　called　Kestrel　or　a　woman　called　Ana。”
“They’re　lying。　Refugio　is　in　there　in　a　coffin。”　Finn　knew　the　Mexicans　were　Japanese　pawns；
sent　out　to　lay　false　trails　that　would　cover　the　only　trail　that　mattered　–　Kestrel’s。　Each　trail　had
to　be　explored；　costing　time；　costing　lives；　and　the　uranium　got　further　and　further　out　of　reach。
“Sweat　them；”　he　said。　“They　probably　don’t　know　much；　but　whatever　it　is；　we　need　it。”　He
looked　at　the　Mexican　who　was　standing　behind　Coughlan。　“Who’s　this？”
Coughlan　almost　smiled。　“You　said　you　wanted　to　personally　interview　anyone　who’d　seen　any
new　faces　on　the　block　recently。”　Coughlan　jerked　his　thumb　over　his　shoulder。　“This　is
Velasquez。　He　rented　an　apartment　yesterday　to　a　whore　he’d　never　seen　before。”
“What　about　her？”
Coughlan　snickered。　“She　turned　three　tricks　the　first　day。　I　think　it　was　there；　anyway。　He　held
up　three　fingers。　Jesus；　you’d　think　they’d　learn　English　if　they’re　gonna　live　here。　Took　me　half
an　hour　to　get　through　to　him。”
“Just　three？”　asked　Finn。
“Yeah。”　Coughlan　shook　his　head。　“Just　three！　She　must　be　as　ugly　as　my　mother…in…law。”
Suddenly　Riley　grabbed　Velasquez；　tearing　his　shirt。　“He　understands　as　much　English　as　I　do。
He　smiled　at　that　crack　about　your　mother…in…law。”　Riley’s　fingers　dug　into　flesh。　“What　else　are
you　keeping　back？”
“Riley！”　Coughlan’s　voice　was　shocked。　“Let　him　go！”
The　Mexican　protested　first　in　Spanish；　then　in　desperate　English。
“Back　up；　Coughlan；”　Finn　ordered。　“Riley’s　done　better　in　thirty　seconds　than　you　did　in　thirty
minutes。　Listen　to　him。”
Finn　turned　to　Velasquez。　The　Mexican　looked　up　hopefully。　Finn　spoke　in　hard　border
Spanish。　“The　whore。　What　did　she　look　like？”
“Blond；”　said　Velasquez；　switching　to　Spanish　with　relief。　“Very　pretty。　She　was　not　of　the
Southwest；　though。　She　did　not　sound　like　you　or　me。”
“British？”
“Who　knows？”
Riley；　sensing　that　the　answer　displeased　Finn；　gave　Velasquez　a　hard　shake。
“Please；　se？or；”　said　Velasquez。　“I　do　not　know。　It　was　not　a　soft　accent。　She　spoke　no　Spanish。
Does　that　help　you？”
Finn　shrugged。　The　woman’s　accent　could　have　been　Canadian　or　British　or　even　Bostonian；　it
proved　nothing。
“The　men　who　went　to　her　room；”　said　Finn。　“Were　they　from　the　barrio？”
“Only　one。”　Velasquez　snickered。　“Rincon’s　nephew；　Jaime。　Only　fourteen；　that　one；　but　already
an　eye　for　the　women。”
“What　about　the　other　men？”
Velasquez　turned　his　hands　upward。　“Who　knows？　One　had　twenty…five　years；　more　or　less。　The
other　was　older。　I　think　that　man　was　her　pimp。　A　bad　one。　He　brought　Jaime　to　the　whore’s
room。”
Finn　turned　back　to　Coughlan。　“Did　you　pick　up　the　whore？”
“No　one　home。　She’s　probably　out　drumming　up　trade。”
“Search　her　room。　If　she’s　there；　bring　her　to　me。”　Finn　turned　to　Velasquez。　“Anything　else
Page　127
about　her？”
“She　paid　for　two　months；”　said　Velasquez。　“Cash。　She　had　much　money。　That’s　all；　se？or。　I
swear　it　on　my　mother’s　grave！”
Finn　looked　impassively　at　Velasquez。　“Let　him　go。”