rludlum-shelby.thecassandracompact-第44节

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　〃Don't　tell　me　we're　going　to　have　to　do　this　all　over　again；〃　Carter　groused。
　〃What's　the　problem；　mission　control？〃　the　pilot　asked　crisply。
　〃Did　I　say　a　problem？　No。　I　said　a　development。〃　There　was　a　brief　pause。　〃Olson；　are　you　all　done　with　your　flight　check？〃
　〃Yes；　sir；〃　Megan　replied；　her　heart　racing。
　Don't　tell　me　I　screwed　up。　Anything　but　that。
　〃In　that　case；　do　you　want　to　take　this　call？〃
　Involuntarily；　Megan　tried　to　sit　up　but　got　nowhere。　Who　could　be　calling　her？　Oh；　Jesus！
　〃Harry；〃　she　said　in　panicky　voice。　〃I　don't　know　if　that's　such　a　good　idea。〃
　〃Now　don't　you　fret。　I'll　patch　it　through　only　to　you。〃
　The　last　thing　she　heard　before　the　static　was　Carter's　〃Rats！〃
　〃Megan？〃
　Her　pulse　quickened。　〃Jon？　Is　that　you？〃
　〃I　couldn't　let　you　leave　without　saying　good　luck。〃
　〃Jon；　how　did　you。。。。　？　I　mean；　how　could　you…〃
　〃No　time　to　explain。　Are　you　okay？　Are　you　ready？〃
　〃Ready；　yes。　Okay？　Well；　I'm　still　getting　used　to　sitting　on　a　ton　of　liquid　fuel。〃
　〃I　wanted　to　wish　you　well。。。。　Make　sure　you　e　home　safe　and　sound。〃
　Megan　smiled。　〃I　will。〃
　〃Sorry；　folks；〃　Landon　broke　in。　〃Time's　up。〃
　〃Thanks；　Harry；〃　Megan　said。
　〃I'm　going　to　put　you　back　in　the　loop。　Ready？〃
　〃Go　ahead。〃
　Megan　steeled　herself　for　some　gentle　ribbing；　which　never　materialized。　In　the　fifteen　minutes　to　countdown；　the　rest　of　the　crew　were　busy　exchanging　instructions　and　details。　Closing　her　eyes；　she　whispered　a　few　words　from　the　Twenty…fourth　Psalm。　She　had　barely　finished　when　the　shuttle　shifted　a　little。　An　instant　later；　the　ignition　procedure　for　the　solid　boosters　kicked　in　and　a　loud；　low　rumble　enveloped　the　craft。
　Through　the　chatter　of　ground　control　double…checking　liftoff；　Megan　heard：　〃Houston；　we　have　Discovery　liftoff！〃
　As　the　external　tank　fed　the　shuttle's　main　engines；　Megan　felt　as　though　she　were　strapped　to　a　bone…jarring　roller　coaster…　except　that　there　was　no　stopping　this　ride。　Two　minutes　and　six　seconds　after　liftoff；　the　solid　boosters　separated　from　the　orbiter；　falling　away　to　the　ocean；　where　they　would　be　retrieved。　Powered　by　the　fuel　from　the　external　tank　that　fed　her　main　engines；　Discovery　struggled　to　break　free　of　gravity。　The　higher　and　faster　she　ascended；　the　closer　the　crew　got　to　the　maximum　3…G　pressure。　Megan　had　been　warned　that　it　would　be　like　having　a　gorilla　strapped　to　your　chest。
　Wrong。　More　like　an　elephant。
　Six　minutes　later；　at　an　altitude　of　184　miles；　the　main　engines　stopped　firing。　Its　job　done；　the　external　fuel　tank　separated　and　fell　away。　Megan　was　amazed　by　the　sudden　silence　and　by　how　smooth　the　ride　had　suddenly　bee。　Turning　her　head；　she　understood　why：　beyond　the　sliver　of　a　window　in　her　line　of　sight　were　the　stars。　She　and　Discovery　were　in　orbit。
　
　CHAPTER　TWENTY　ONE
　　
　The　preceding　evening；　Ivan　Beria　had　rendezvoused　with　the　driver　of　the　Lincoln　outside　the　Metro　stop　at　Q　Street　and　Connecticut　Avenue。　The　driver　had　further　information　and　instructions　for　Beria；　who　studied　them　as　the　car　wended　its　way　out　of　the　city　toward　Bethesda。
　The　driver　was　necessary　because　Beria　could　not　afford　to　be　seen　on　the　streets…　and　because　he　had　only　the　most　rudimentary　driving　skills。　A　killer　who　could　carve　a　man　up　in　seconds；　he　was　lost　in　and　confused　by　the　traffic　streaming　in　and　out　of　the　city。　In　an　emergency；　he　could　not　be　sure　of　executing　an　escape。　There　was　one　other　advantage　to　the　car　besides　transport：　it　was　perfect　for　surveillance。　Washington　was　filled　with　executive　sedans。　This　one　would　not　look　out　of　place　in　a　neighborhood　such　as　Bethesda。
　Approaching　Smith's　house；　the　driver　slowed　as　though　searching　for　a　particular　number。　Beria　got　a　good　look　at　the　rambling　ranchstyle　house；　set　well　back　from　the　street。　He　noted　the　trees　that　ran　along　the　property　line　and　that；　he　surmised；　continued　around　the　back。　There　were　lights　in　the　windows　but　no　shadows　indicating　movement。
　〃e　around　again；〃　Beria　told　the　driver。
　Next　time；　Beria　looked　closely　at　the　other　houses　on　the　block。　Most　had　toys　and　bicycles　on　the　front　lawn；　a　basketball　hoop　over　the　garage　door；　a　small　powerboat　perched　on　a　trailer　chocked　in　the　driveway。　By　contrast；　Smith's　house　looked　vacant；　brooding。　It　was；　Beria　thought；　the　house　of　a　man　who　lives　alone　and　prefers　it　that　way；　whose　work　demands　solitude　and　secrecy。　Such　a　house　would　have　a　far　more　sophisticated…　and　deadly…　warning　system　than　anything　advertised　by　the　security　pany　patches　on　the　doors　of　the　other　homes。
　〃I　have　seen　enough；〃　he　told　the　driver。　〃We　will　e　back　tomorrow　morning。〃'
　Now；　a　few　minutes　after　nine　o'clock　in　the　next　morning；　Beria　was　in　the　backseat　of　the　Lincoln　as　it　idled　at　the　far　corner　of　Smith's　street。　The　driver　was　standing　outside；　smoking。　To　passing　joggers　and　dog　walkers；　he　appeared　to　be　waiting　for　a　client。
　In　the　cool　stillness　of　the　interior；　Beria　reviewed　all　the　information　on　Smith。　His　principal　wanted　the　American　doctor　out　of　the　way　quickly。　But　there　were　obstacles。　Smith　did　not　go　to　an　office。　His　home　appeared　to　have　good　security。　Therefore；　the　execution　would　have　to　be　done　out　in　the　open；　wherever　an　opportunity　presented　itself。　Another　problem　was　the　unpredictability　of　Smith's　movements　once　he　was　outside　his　home。　He　had　no　set　schedule；　so　the　principal　could　not　say　where　he　would　be　at　any　given　time。　This　meant　that　Beria　had　to　follow　Smith　as　closely　as　possible　and　look　for　an　opening。　Working　in　his　favor　was　the　fact　that　the　American　did　not　have　an　escort；　did　not…　as　far　as　the　principal　knew…　carry　a　weapon。　Most　important；　he　had　no　inkling　that　he　was　in　any　kind　of　danger。　Beria　checked　his　watch；　forty…five　minutes　had　elapsed　since　he'd　arrived。
　The　Lincoln　listed　as　the　driver　got　back　behind　the　wheel。　〃Smith's　ing　out。〃
　Beria　looked　through　the　windshield　down　the　street　where　a　navy　blue　sedan　was　backing　out　of　a　garage。　According　to　the　principal；　this　was　Smith's　vehicle。
　〃And　we　begin；〃　Beria　said　softly。
　
　As　Smith　drove　into　the　city；　he　constantly　checked　his　mirrors。　After　a　few　miles　he　tagged　the　black　Lincoln　that　changed　lanes　whenever　he　did。　He　called　Kirov　on　the　cell。
　〃It's　the　Lincoln　from　the　airport。　On　my　tail。　I　think　Beria's　nibbling。〃
　〃I'm　ready；〃　Kirov　assured　him。
　Breaking　for　a　light；　Smith　checked　his　rearview。　The　Lincoln　was　still　three　cars　back。
　Once　in　the　city；　Smith　drove　as　fast　as　traffic　permitted；　changing　lanes；　leaning　on　his　horn。　He　hoped　Beria　would　buy　the　image　of　a　man　late　for　an　important　appointment；　a　man　preoccupied；　his　guard　down；　easy　prey。　He　wanted　the　assassin　to　focus　on　him　to　the　exclusion　of　everything　and　everyone　else。　That　way；　he　would　never　see　Kirov　ing。
　He's　in　a　hurry；　Beria　thought。　Why？
　〃He's　headed　for　Dupont　Circle；〃　the　driver　said；　keeping　his　eyes　on　the　traffic。
　Beria　frowned。　His　apartment　was　in　that　area。　Could　Smith　have　already　discovered　it？　Was　that　his　destination？
　The　sedan　picked　up　speed　on　Connecticut　Avenue；　turned　left　on　R　Street；　and　then　right　on　Twenty…first　Street。
　Where's　he　going？
　The　sedan　slowed　as　Smith　approached　the　top　of　the　triangle　at　S　Street。　Beria　watched　him　park　the　car　in　a　lot；　then　cross　Twenty…first　Street。　This　area；　with　its　Eastern　European　restaurants　and　shops；　was　familiar　to　him。　Since　arriving　in　Washington；　it　was　the　only　place　he　had　ventured　into　where　he　felt　fortable。
　He's　here　to　try　to　pick　up　the　scent。　Or　maybe　someone　saw　my　picture。
　Beria　had　seen　the　police　posite　on　the　news。　He　thought　it　a　poor　rendering；　nothing　like　him　at　all。　But　maybe　someone　had　seen　him　in　the　area；　even　though　Beria　rarely　left　his　apartment　until　after　dark。
　No。　If　he　suspects　I'm　here；　he　would　not　have　e　alone。　He's　not　sure。　He's　guessing。
　〃Stay　where　I　can　find　you；〃　Beria　told　the　driver。
　The　driver　pointed　to　a　restaurant　called　Dunn's　River　Falls。　〃I'll　be　in　the　lot。〃
　Stepping　out　of　the　car；　Beria　trotted　across　the　street　in　time　to　see　Smith　duck　under　an　archway　bordered　by　a　bar　and　a　poster　shop。　Now　he　knew　exactly　where　his　quarry　was　headed：　the　small　quadrangle　between　Twenty…first　Street　and　Florida　Avenue。　He　thought　it　quite　clever　of　Smith　to　hunt　him　in　a　place　that　Beria　might　naturally　gravitate　to。　But　it　was　also　a　location　Beria　knew　he　could　control。
　Beria　disappeared　under　the　arch；　then　stepped　under　the　awning　of　a　Macedonian　coffee　shop。　At　one　of　the　tables；　a　group　of　old　men　were　playing　dominoes；　the　soft　crooning　of　a　native　folk　song　crackled　over　indoor…outdoor　speakers。　There　was　Smith；　walking　toward　the　fountain　in　the　center　of　the　quadrangle。　Not　so　quick　now；　looking　around　as　though　expecting　someone。　Beria　thought　he　could　smell　Smith's　disfort；　the　unease　of　someone　who　realizes　that　he's　out　of　place。　His　hand　dipped　into　his　jacket　pocket；　fingers　curling　around　the　cork　handle　of　his　spring…loaded　stiletto。
　Thirty　paces　ahead；　Smith　felt　his　pager　vibrate　against　his　kidney。　Kirov　was　signaling　that　Beria　was　in　the　zone；　within　fifty　feet　of　Smith。　Slow