rludlum-shelby.thecassandracompact-第36节

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uch　he　could　say　no　to。
　〃I'm　exhausted；〃　he　said。　〃I　need　to　get　some　sleep；　somewhere　where　no　one　will　disturb　me。〃
　〃Already　arranged。　The　driver　will　take　you　to　the　Four　Seasons。　There's　a　suite　waiting　for　you。　Take　as　much　time　as　you　need。　Call　me　later。〃
　Throwing　his　arm　over　Treloar's　shoulder；　Reed　walked　him　to　the　door。　〃The　car's　outside。　Adam；　thank　you。　All　of　us　thank　you。　Your　contribution　has　been　invaluable。〃
　Treloar　had　his　hand　on　the　doorknob。　〃The　money？〃　he　asked　under　his　breath。
　〃There's　an　envelope　at　the　hotel。　Inside；　you'll　find　two　numbers：　One　is　for　the　account；　the　other　is　the　bank　director's　private　number　in　Zurich。〃
　Treloar　stepped　out　into　the　gloaming。　The　wind　had　picked　up　and　he　shivered。　He　looked　back　once　and　saw　only　the　black　door；　closed。
　The　car　was　not　waiting　in　front　of　the　townhouse。　Treloar　looked　up　and　down　the　street；　then　spotted　it　halfway　down　the　block。　He　thought　he　understood　why：　there　were　no　parking　spaces。
　Walking　down　the　street；　the　scotch　warming　his　belly；　he　replayed　Reed's　reassuring　words。　He　was　right：　everything　that　had　happened　in　Russia　was　behind　him。　No　one　had　any　evidence　against　him。　Besides；　he　knew　so　much　about　Reed；　Bauer；　and　the　others　that　they　would　always　have　to　protect　him。
　The　idea　of　holding　such　power　lulled　Treloar。　Looking　up；　he　expected　to　see　the　Lincoln　on　his　left。　Instead；　it　was　farther　down　the　block；　a　stone's　throw　from　Wisconsin　Avenue。　He　shook　his　head。　He　was　more　tired　than　he　realized　and　must　have　miscalculated　the　distance。　Then　he　heard　the　soft　slap　of　leather　on　concrete；　footsteps　approaching。
　Treloar　saw　the　shoes　first；　then　the　pant　legs　with　razor…sharp　creases。　When　he　looked　up；　the　figure　was　less　than　two　feet　away。
　〃you！〃
　Treloar's　eyes　rolled　wildly　as　he　stared　at　Ivan　Beria。
　Beria　took　a　quick　step　toward　him。　Treloar　could　smell　his　breath；　heard　the　soft　whistle　that　escaped　Beria's　nostrils。
　〃I　missed　you；〃　Beria　said　softly。
　Treloar　cried　out　weakly　as　a　sharp　pain　shot　through　his　chest。　For　an　instant　he　thought　he　was　having　a　heart　attack。
　〃When　you　were　a　little　boy；　did　you　prick　balloons　with　a　needle？　That's　all　it　is；　really。　Just　a　balloon。〃
　Absurdly；　Treloar　clung　to　the　image　even　as　the　tip　of　Beria's　stiletto　wriggled　into　his　heart。　He　sighed　once　and　felt　all　the　air　rush　out　of　his　lungs。　Lying　there　on　the　sidewalk；　he　could　see　the　people　walking　along　Wisconsin　and　Beria　stepping　off　the　sidewalk。　He　must　have　tried　to　call　out；　because　Beria　turned　and　looked　at　him。　Then；　as　his　eyes　closed；　so　did　the　door　of　the　black　Lincoln。
　
　Dr。　Dylan　Reed　had　put　Adam　Treloar　out　of　his　mind　as　soon　as　the　door　had　closed　behind　him。　Having　made　the　arrangements　himself；　he　knew　what　was　in　store　for　the　hapless　scientist。　By　the　time　he　returned　to　the　kitchen；　Dr。　Karl　Bauer　and　General　Richardson…　the　latter　dressed　in　mufti…　were　waiting。
　Richardson　held　up　a　cell　phone。　〃I　just　heard　from　Beria。　It's　done。〃
　〃Then　we　have　to　get　moving；〃　Reed　replied。
　He　glanced　at　Bauer；　who　had　already　removed　the　canister　from　the　freezer　and　was　opening　it　on　the　counter。　At　his　feet　was　a　lightweight　titanium　chest　the　size　of　a　picnic　cooler。
　〃Are　you　sure　you　want　to　do　that　here；　Karl？〃
　Bauer　finished　opening　the　canister　before　replying。　〃Open　the　chest；　please；　Dylan。〃
　Kneeling；　Reed　pulled　the　handles。　There　was　a　faint　hiss　as　the　seals　came　apart。
　The　interior　was　surprisingly　small；　but　Reed　knew　this　was　because　the　chest　was　merely　a　larger　version　of　the　canister　that　had　been　carried　from　Russia。　Its　thick　walls　were　studded　with　liquid　nitrogen　capsules；　which；　when　fully　activated；　would　keep　the　interior　at　a　steady　temperature　of　minus　two　hundred　degrees　centigrade。　Developed　by　Bauer…Zermatt　A。G。；　the　chest　was　standard　issue　when　it　came　to　the　transport　of　toxic　cultures。
　Using　thick；　specially　lined　gloves；　Bauer　removed　the　inner　chamber　in　which　the　ampoules　rested。　Looking　at　them；　he　thought　they　resembled　miniature　missiles；　lined　up　ready　to　fire。　Except　that　by　the　time　the　protocols　were　altered；　they　would　be　vastly　more　potent　than　any　nuclear　weapon　in　the　American　arsenal。
　Although　Bauer　had　been　handling　viruses　for　more　than　forty　years；　he　never　forgot　what　he　was　dealing　with。　He　made　sure　that　his　hands　were　absolutely　steady　and　that　there　was　no　moisture　on　the　counter　or　anywhere　near　his　feet　before　he　slowly　lowered　it　into　a　special　cradle　in　the　chest。　Closing　the　lid；　he　entered　an　alphanumeric　bination　into　the　security　lock　pad　and　set　the　temperature。
　Looking　up；　he　said；　〃Gentlemen；　the　clock　is　running。〃
　The　row　houses　of　Volta　Place　shared　a　mon　characteristic：　each　had　a　small　garage　behind　the　backyard　that　opened　up　on　an　alley。　Reed　and　Richardson　carried　the　chest　into　the　garage　and　stowed　it　in　the　cargo　partment　of　a　Volvo　station　wagon。　Bauer　stayed　behind　a　moment　to　make　sure　that　nothing　that　could　link　the　three　men　to　this　location　had　been　left　behind。　He　was　not　concerned　about　fingerprints　or　fibers　or　any　other　forensic　minutiae；　in　a　few　minutes；　a　special　NSA　cleaning　crew　would　arrive　to　wash　and　vacuum　the　interior。　The　NSA　maintained　several　such　safe　houses　in　the　Washington　area。　For　the　cleaners；　this　was　just　another　stop　in　a　busy　schedule。
　As　Bauer　walked　to　the　garage；　he　heard　the　wail　of　sirens　ing　from　the　direction　of　Wisconsin　Avenue。
　〃It　would　appear　that　Adam　Treloar　is　about　to　play　his　final　role；〃　he　murmured　as　the　three　got　into　the　station　wagon。
　〃Too　bad　he　isn't　around　to　read　the　reviews；〃　Reed　said；　and　edged　the　car　into　the　alley。
　
　CHAPTER　SEVENTEEN
　　
　Peter　Howell　stood　on　the　top　tier　of　the　wide　steps　leading　into　the　Galleria　Regionale　on　the　Via　Alloro。　Sicily's　most　prestigious　gallery　boasted　paintings　by　Antonello　da　Messina　as　well　as　the　magnificent　fifteenth…century　fresco　Triumph　of　Death　by　Laurana；　which　particularly　appealed　to　Howell。
　Staying　well　away　from　the　tourists　hiking　up　and　down　the　steps；　alert　for　anyone　who　might　be　taking　an　undue　interest　in　him；　Howell　pulled　out　his　secure　phone　and　dialed　the　number　Jon　Smith　had　given　him。
　〃Jon？　Peter　here。　We　need　to　talk。〃
　Forty…five　hundred　miles　away；　Smith　pulled　over　onto　the　soft　shoulder　of　Route　77。
　〃Go　ahead；　Peter。〃
　Continuing　to　scan　the　foot　traffic　around　the　gallery；　Howell　described　his　meeting　with　the　smuggler；　Franco　Grimaldi；　the　subsequent　attempt　on　his　life；　and　his　encounter　with　Master　Sergeant　Travis　Nichols　and　his　partner；　Patrick　Drake。
　〃Are　you　sure　they　were　U。S。　military？〃　Smith　asked。
　〃Absolutely；〃　Howell　replied。　〃I　set　up　watch　at　the　post　office；　Jon。　An　officer　came　to　the　box；　just　like　Nichols　said　he　would。　But　there　was　no　chance　to　take　him…　and　no　way　I　can　get　on　your　base　outside　Palermo。〃　Howell　paused。　〃What　are　your　soldier　boys　up　to；　Jon？〃
　〃Believe　me；　I'd　love　to　know。〃
　The　sudden　appearance　of　American　military　personnel…　soldiers　as　assassins…　added　a　new　dimension　to　an　already　plex　equation；　one　that　demanded　to　be　addressed　immediately。
　〃If　Nichols　and　his　partner　were　sanctioned　killers；　someone　had　to　be　paying　them；〃　Smith　concluded。
　〃My　thoughts　exactly；〃　Howell　replied。
　〃Any　ideas　as　to　how　to　ferret　out　the　money　man？〃
　〃Actually；　yes；〃　Howell　replied；　then　proceeded　to　explain。
　
　Ten　minutes　later；　Smith　pulled　back　on　Route　77。　Reaching　the　entrance　to　Camp　David；　he　was　given　a　military　escort　to　Rosebud；　the　guest　cabin　closest　to　Aspen。　He　found　Klein　sitting　in　front　of　a　fieldstone　fireplace；　talking　on　the　phone。
　Klein　waved　Smith　to　sit；　finished　his　monosyllabic　conversation；　and　turned　to　Smith。
　〃That　was　Kirov。　His　people　are　questioning　everyone　in　the　Bioaparat　plex；　trying　to　walk　back　the　cat　to　Yardeni's　contacts。　So　far；　no　luck。　Yardeni　seems　to　have　been　one　closemouthed　SOB。　He　didn't　go　around　spending　money　he　shouldn't　have　had；　or　bragging　about　how　soon　he'd　be　living　the　high　life　in　the　West。　No　one　remembers　seeing　him　with　any　foreigners。　Kirov's　checking　his　phone　calls　and　mail；　but　I'm　not　holding　my　breath。〃
　〃So　whoever　reached　out　to　Yardeni　did　so　very　carefully；〃　Smith　observed。　〃They　made　sure　he　was　the　right　man　for　the　job…　no　family；　corrupt；　someone　who　could　keep　his　mouth　shut。〃
　〃That's　my　guess。〃
　〃What　else　does　Kirov　have？〃
　〃Nothing。　And　he　knows　it。〃　Klein　snorted。　〃He　tried　hard　not　to　sound　too　relieved　that　it's　now　our　problem。　Can't　blame　him；　though。〃
　〃It's　still　Russian　smallpox　that's　at　the　root　of　all　this；　sir。　If　word　gets　out…〃
　〃It　won't。〃　Klein　checked　his　watch。　〃The　president　is　expecting　my　call　in　fifteen　minutes。　What　do　you　have？〃
　Smith　spoke　quickly　and　succinctly；　describing　everything　that　had　happened　in　Russia　as　well　as　his　confrontation　with　Treloar　at　Dulles。　Klein's　eyebrows　shot　up　in　surprise　when　Smith　detailed　how　U。S。　soldiers　were　now　involved。　Then　he　presented　his　suggestions　for　the　next　course　of　action。
　Klein　took　a　moment　to　consider。　〃I　like　most　of　it；〃　he　said　finally。　〃But　a　couple　of　points　might　be