Steal The Sun(战争间谍)-第1部分

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《Steal　The　Sun（战争间谍）》
作者：　＇美＇　A·E·Maxwell【完结】





10　July　1945　Washington；　D。C。
144　Hours　Before　Trinity
（Synopsis　of　a　Top　Secret　briefing　paper　from　the　Office　of　Strategic　Services。）
Route　to：　President　Harry　S　Truman
Secretary　of　War　Harry　L。　Stimson
Joint　Chief　of　Staff　Admiral　William　D。　Leahy
Major　General　Leslie　Groves

The　Russians　control　eastern　Germany　without　recourse　to　American　or　British　desires　or
mandates。　Furthermore；　Russia　has　no　intention　of　withdrawing　from　Germany　at　any　time　in
the　future。　Other　East　European　countries　（e。g。　Latvia；　Lithuania；　Estonia；　etc。）　are　now　and　will
remain　under　Russia’s　direct　control。　Eastern　Europe　has　become　Western　Russia。
With　Eastern　Europe　conquered；　Russia　is　transferring　arms　and　men　to　the　southeastern
frontier；　preparing　for　a　massive　sweep　through　China　and　then　on　to　an　invasion
of　Japan　in　violation　of　the　Russo…Japanese　neutrality　agreement。　Intelligence　reports　leave
absolutely　no　doubt　that　Russia　can　and　will　conquer　China；　invade　Japan；　and　demand　at　least　a
division　of　Japan　along　the　lines　of　Germany。　As　in　Germany；　Russia　has　no　intention　of
withdrawing　her　forces　from　occupied　territories　at　any　time　in　the　future。　For　Russia；　World
War　II　has　become　a　war　of　conquest。

The　United　States　is　faced　with　three　choices：
1。　Defeat　the　Japanese　before　Russia　can　invade　China。
2。　Accept　the　fact　that　the　U。S。　will　win　a　war　and　lose　a　world。
3。　Declare　war　on　Russia。
Option　3　is　beyond　the　purview　of　this　paper。　Option　2　requires　no　action。　Option　1　requires
that　the　Japanese　be　forced　to　surrender　before　Russian　troops　are　committed　to　China。　The
OSS　estimates　that　Russia　will　invade　China　as　soon　as　13　August　1945　and　no　later　than　13
October　1945。

Tokyo
133　Hours　Before　Trinity
（Excerpt　of　cable　to　Naotake　Sato；　Japanese　Ambassador　to　the　U。S。S。R。　Decoded。）
HIS　MAJESTY　IS　EXTREMELY　ANXIOUS　TO　END　THE　WAR　AS　SOON　AS
POSSIBLE…　（BUT）　IF　THE　U。S。　AND　GREAT　BRITAIN　INSIST　ON　UNCONDITIONAL
SURRENDER；　JAPAN　MUST　FIGHT　TO　THE　LAST。　ONLY　THEN　WILL　OUR　HONOR
BE　VINDICATED　AND　OUR　NATIONAL　EXISTENCE　ASSURED…　THE　EMPEROR
THEREFORE　WANTS　TO　NEGOTIATE　FOR　A　QUICK　END　TO　THE　WAR　USING
THE　GOOD　OFFICES　OF　THE　RUSSIAN　GOVERNMENT　TO　APPROACH　THE
UNITED　STATES。　FOREIGN　MINISTER　SHIGENORI　TOGO

Moscow
109　Hours　Before　Trinity
（Excerpt　of　cable　to　Foreign　Minister　Shigenori　Togo。　Decoded。）
…　A　PEACE　SETTLEMENT　BY　NEGOTIATION　WILL　NOT　BE　SUPPORTED　OR
ADVANCED　BY　THE　SOVIET　UNION。　IF　JAPAN　TRULY　WANTS　TO　END　THE
WAR；　WE　HAVE　NO　CHOICE　BUT　TO　ACCEPT　UNCONDITIONAL　SURRENDER
OR　SOMETHING　VERY　LIKE　IT。　AMBASSADOR　NAOTAKE　SATO
Second　General　Army　Headquarters
Hiroshima；　Island　of　Kyushu
120　Hours　Before　Trinity
（Excerpt　from　Field　Marshal　Shunroku　Hata’s　private　diary。）


The　night　is　still。　May　tranquility　gather　around　me　as　it　does　around　the　lotus　bud。
The　Emperor　has　given　to　me　the　task　of　saving　Japan　from　the　ignominy　of　utter　defeat。　In　the
great；　climactic　battle　to　come；　may　I　be　worthy　of　my　Emperor’s　trust。
I　do　not　believe　Japan　can　defeat　America。
I　do　not　believe　American　can　defeat　Japan。
Therein　lies　our　honor；　and　an　honorable　future　for　our　children。　The　American　invasion　will
begin　on　Kyushu…　and　on　Kyushu　it　will　end。　We　will　be　as　drops　of　water；　clinging　to　the
invaders　until　they　drown。　Many　of　my　people　will　die；　for　my　people　know　that　it　is　better　to
die　than　to　seek　ignominious　safety。
Although　we　lack　arms　and　ammunition；　we　do　not　lack　courage　and　honor。　I　have　ordered　that
every　person　in　Hiroshima；　man　and　child　and　woman　alike；　be　taught　how　to　make　and　use
gasoline　bombs。
A　little　thing…　glass　and　gasoline　against　tanks　and　airplanes。　But　drops　of　water　are　also　little。
Negotiated　peace　is　not　defeat！

Juarez
108　Hours　Before　Trinity
The　sounds　and　smells　of　the　district　called　La　Mariscal　welled　up　around　Finn　as　he　crossed　the
Paso　del　Norte　Bridge　connecting　El　Paso；　Texas；　to　Juarez；　Mexico。　He　moved　quickly；　using
the　deceptive　stride　of　a　man　accustomed　to　walking。　Anyone　following　him　would　soon
become　flushed；　sweaty　and　obvious　among　the　lazy　throngs　of　people　circulating　through
Juarez’s　late…afternoon　heat。
Finn　paused　in　the　shadow　of　an　old　building。　As　he　lit　a　cigaret；　he　checked　the　street　he　had
just　walked　down。　No　one　stopped　suddenly　to　admire　a　dusty　store　window。　No　one　seemed
too　hot　or　too　breathless。　No　one　seemed　to　notice　him　or　to　avoid　noticing　him。
Even　so；　Finn　leaned　against　the　building；　his　pale　hazel　eyes　watching　the　crowds。　Deeply
tanned；　wearing　jeans　and　a　white　shirt；　a　western　hat　pulled　down　over　his　dark　hair；　Finn
looked　unremarkable　for　the　time　and　place。　Only　his　watchfulness　set　him　apart　from　the
Mexicans　strolling　along　the　street。
Finn　waited。　To　all　appearances　he　was　a　man　enjoying　the　daily　miracle　of　sunset；　when　the
desert’s　scorching　July　air　was　transformed　into　wine。　And　Finn　did　enjoy　the　moment；　despite
his　searching　glances。　He　loved　the　desert　borderlands；　the　sand　and　endless　sky；　people
wrapped　in　heat　and　secrets；　smugglers　and　spies；　corruptors　and　innocents；　thieves　and
assassins　and　fools　all　pasted　together　in　an　uneasy　collage　that　sometimes　came　unstuck
violently；　without　warning。　He　loved　those　moments　too；　when　staying　alive　was　a　puzzle　that
had　to　be　solved　instant　by　instant。
With　a　last　look　at　his　back　trail；　Finn　flipped　his　cigaret　into　the　street　and　walked　on。　He
passed　bars　and　greasy　cafés。　The　walkway　was　lined　by　whores；　but　they　ignored　him　after　a
single　glance。　Their　calculated　come…ons　were　reserved　for　crewcut　innocents　from　the　Army
and　Air　Force　bases　on　the　American　side　of　the　river。
Many　of　the　prostitutes　were　after　information　as　much　as　pesos。　In　Juarez；　information　was　the
only　currency　that　was　not　devalued　at　the　moment　of　exchange。　Finn　knew　which　whores　sold
information　because　he　was　in　the　business　of　buying　it。　So　were　many　other　people　in　Juarez。
Like　Switzerland；　Mexico　had　discovered　that　neutrality　was　a　negotiable　asset。
The　Third　Reich　had　been　present　in　Mexico　since　Hitler’s　ascendency。　When　war　consumed
Europe；　Mexico　City　–　like　Lisbon；　Marrakech　and　Istanbul　–　had　become　a　magnet　attracting
the　iron　detritus　of　political　change。
Mexico　City　became　home　to　a　volatile　mixture　of　Germans；　Russians；　Japanese；　Chinese；
Koreans；　Turks；　Greeks；　British；　French　and　many　others　whose　only　loyalty　was　to　violent
ideologies　of　the　left　or　right。
From　the　beginning　of　World　War　II；　Nazis　had　moved　freely　throughout　Mexico；　celebrating
their　host　country’s　“neutrality”　by　setting　up　spy　posts　along　the　border。　Towns　like　Juarez；　San
Luis　del　Rio　Colorado；　Mexicali　and　Tijuana　became　secure　staging　areas　for　sabotage　and
infiltration　in　the　secret　Army；　Navy　and　Air　Force　bases　that　stretched　from　Texas　to
California。
The　Japanese　were　ahead　of　the　Germans；　having　been　in　Mexico　for　nearly　a　century。　Unlike　the
Germans；　however；　the　Japanese　had　difficulty　infiltrating　their　nationals　into　the　U。S。；　after
Pearl　Harbor；　a　Japanese　face　was　an　invitation　to　mayhem。　The　Emperor　had　to　be　content
with　a　pervasive　information…cum…spy　network　that　centered　around　the　import…export
businesses　owned　by　overseas　Japanese。　The　network　was　greatly　enhanced　by　the　Nisei　and　Isei
who　fled　American　internment；　preferring　instead　the　social　internment　of　Mexico’s　Oriental
ghettos。
The　war　had　split　Finn’s　life　almost　as　neatly　as　it　had　the　lives　of　the　Japanese。　Desert　born　and
raised；　the　son　of　a　Customs　patrolman；　Finn　had　been　recruited　by　the　Office　of　Strategic
Services　before　the　war　began。　He　was　among　the　first　overseas　agents　fielded　by　the　United
States。　For　more　than　a　year　he　had　fought　a　secret　war　in　the　jungles　of　Burma；　tracking　and
testing　the　Japanese；　learning　their　language　and　their　secrets。　Then　came　Pearl　Harbor。　His
fluency　in　the　Mexican　language　and　culture　made　him　more　valuable　to　the　U。S。　in　the　desert
than　in　the　jungle。　He　returned　to　the　borderlands　of　northern　Mexico；　organizing　and
overseeing　a　network　of　American　agents　whose　job　was　to　limit　the　damage　caused　by　Mexico’s
rampant　neutrality。

The　first　three　years　of　Finn’s　assignment　had　been　spent　paring　down　the　German　network。　As
the　Third　Reich　weakened；　both　in　Europe　and　in　Mexico；　the　number　of　Russian　spies　grew；
neither　the　British　nor　the　Americans　nor　even　the　Japanese　made　comparable　gains。　As　the　war
in　Europe　wound　down；　the　international　community　of　spies　gradually　shifted　its　center　from
Mexico　City　to　Juarez；　a　border　town　only　three　hours　south　of　the　top　secret　American
installation　called　Los　Alamos。
The　focus　of　Finn’s　assignment　had　changed　in　the　past　year。　He　had　been　told　that　there　was　a
secret　that　could　reshape　man’s　future；　that　the　secret　was　in　Los　Alamos；　and　that　it　was　his　job
to　make　certain　that　the　secret　stayed　there。
He　had　not　been　told　what　the　secret　was。
He　had　resented　the　new　assignment。　He　had　resented　turning　over　his　carefully　built　Mexico
City　network　to　a　stranger。　He　had　resented　being　himself　turned　over　to　an　arrogant　desk
general　named　Groves；　a　man　who　had　sent　Finn　to　Okinawa　to　write　reports　on　the　American
invasion　that　any　man　with　two　eyes　and　a　pen　could　have　written。　But　most　of　all；　Finn　resented
knowing　less　about　what　he　guarded　than　the　Russian　spies　knew。
Finn　crossed　the　dusty　street　in　midblock　and　bought　a　tamale　from　one　of　the　pushcarts　that
creaked　along　the　streets　of　La　Mariscal。　He　ate　the　tamale　without　flinching　from　its　peppery
heat。　As　he　ate；　he　watched　his　back　trail。　No　one　ducked　or　turned　away　from　his　glance。　No
one　reversed　direction。　His　caution　was　its　own　and　only　reward。
He　crossed　the　street　once　more；　heading　toward　a　ramshackle　building　whose　only　decoration
was　a　sly　parrot　painted　on　a　sign　over　the　door。　The　building　had　once　been　a　series　of　small；
interconnected　stores。　They　had　burned；　leaving　behind　little　more　than　a　waist…high　maze　of
thick　adobe　walls。　Some　of　the　walls　had　been　razed；　some　had　been　left；　and　the　whole　had
been　roofed　over　like　a　huge　barn。　The　result　was　the　Green　Parrot；　centerpiece　of　Juarez’s
thriving　underworld；　an　international　circus　of　beggars　and　bankers；　thieves　and　peons　and　spies。
Without　looking　into　the　smoky　interior；　Finn　walked　past　the　cantina’s　front　entrance；　down　a
piss…stained　alley　and　through　a　small　side　door　into　the　building。　Inside；　the　Green　Parrot　was
more　like　a　battlefield　than　a　business。　One　skirmish　line　formed　at　the　bar　which　took　up　a
block…long　wall。　There；　bar　girls　fought　for　the　right　to　take　drinks　to　favored　patrons。　Both
ends　of　the　huge　room；　as　well　as　the　wall　opposite　the　bar；　were　chopped　up　into　separate
adobe…fenced　enclaves　where　pimps；　pickpockets　and　whores　engaged　in　single　combat　with
their　chosen　prey。　Smoke　twisted　above　the　charcoal　fiefdoms　of　warlord…cooks　whose　food
was　so　spicy　it　would　devastate　an　unprepared　enemy。
In　one　area　of　the　cantina；　the　battle　was　focused　like　light　through　a　curved　lens。　A　crowd　of
shouting；　sweating；　shoving　men　gathered　around　a　shallow　pit。　Two　Yaqui　Indians　crouched
there；　coarse　hair　bound　back　by　scarlet　bandanas。　Each　man　hissed　and　grunted　ritually；
arousing　the　fighting　cock　he　held　in　his　scarred　hands。
One　man　stood　apart；　overseeing　the　crowd；　the　cocks；　and　the　collecting　of　bets。　If　the　chaotic
battles　of　the　Green　Parrot　had　a　generalissimo；　it　was　Refugio　Reyes　y　Rincón。　He　was　big；
muscular；　and　had　thick；　oddly　graceful　eyebrows。　Beneath　a　veneer　of　smiling　indulgence；　his
power　bulged　as　surely　as　muscle　beneath　fat。　At　his　signal；　the　handlers　redoubled　their　efforts
over　the　birds。
The　two　cocks　ignored　the　yelling　crowd；　the　hisses　and　grip　of　their　handlers。　The　cocks　were
fixed　on　one　another；　trading　glares　with　obsidian　eyes；　flaring　their　gaudy　feather　ruffs。　Their
steel…tipped　spurs　promised　death。
The　handlers　hoisted　the　cocks　up　high；　further　enraging　the　birds。　The　crowd　howled。　Bets　were
made　in　many　languages　and　laid　in　many　currencies　in　the　instants　before　the　cocks　were
released。　No　one　noticed　as　Finn　moved　through　the　fringes　of　the　crowd。　No　one　but　the　cook
looked　up　when　Finn　sat　at　an　empty　table　near　a　charcoal　grill。
The　square　Indio　woman　bent　over　her　grill；　poked　a　sizzling　chunk　of　meat；　and　settled　back
again　on　her　heels。　Her　black　eyes　were　hooded　and　blank。　She　stared　beyond　Finn；　where
bettors　seethed　around　the　deadly　cocks。　After　a　time　she　turned　back　to　her　cooking。
Finn　relaxed　and　tipped　his　chair　until　it　leaned　against　the　wall。　If　he　had　been　followed；　the
cook　would　have　signaled　him。　He　was　free　to　concentrate　on　one　of　his　many　enemies；　the
broad…shouldered　Mexican　who　ran　the　cockfight　as　ruthlessly　as　he　ran　his　network　of　whores；
thieves　and　smugglers。
It　was　not　Rufugio’s　ordinary　criminal　pursuits　that　interested　Finn；　however；　it　was　the　man’s
extensive　connections　with　Mexico’s　Oriental　communities　–　particularly　the　Japanese。　In
peacetime；　Refugio　and　Takagura　Omi　had　run　the　most　successful　smuggling　operation　in
northern　Mexico；　using　Takagura’s　high　Japanese　connections　to　import　legal　and　illegal　goods；
and　Rufugio’s　low　Mexican　connections　to　distribute　the　goods　from　Culiacan　to　San　Francisco。
War　had　changed　the　nature　of　the　smuggling　trade。　Information；　not　opium；　brought　the
highest　prices。　If　a　secret　could　be　bought；　Refugio　had　it　to　sell。
The　handlers　lowered　the　birds；　then　raised　them　high　again。　The　sounds　of　the　crowd
overwhelmed　the　cocks’　screeches。
“Begin！”　shouted　Refugio。
Scarred　hands　threw　the　birds　high。　They　slashed　at　each　other　with　spurs　of　steel。
Partially　screened　by　a　low　adobe　wall　that　divided　him　from　the　mainstream　of　the　cantina’s
activities；　Finn　searched　the　tables　for　a　new　face；　a　man　called　Masarek；　who　was　an　assassin
sent　by　the　Russian　NKVD。　Finn　had　been　especially　wary　of　the　Russians　since　the　night　he　had
followed　a　team　of　NKVD　saboteurs　from　Juarez　to　a　point　just　below　Los　Alamos。　When
there　could　be　no　doubt　of　their　destination；　Finn　struck。　He　hid　their　bodies　beneath　a　thin
blanket　of　sand　and　left　as　quietly　as　he　had　come。　By　dawn　he　was　back　in　Juarez；　waiting　for　the
replacements　that　the　Russians　were　sure　to　send。
In　time；　Masarek　had　appeared。
Finn’s　own　network　of　whores；　informants　and　spies　had　told　him　that　Masarek　had　been　seen
with　Refugio；　heading　north　of　the　American　border。　Apparently　their　attempt　on　Los　Alamos
had　been　fruitless；　for　they　had　returned　very　quickly。　The　same　informant　had　told　Finn　that　this
evening；　Refugio　was　to　meet　with　a　newly　arrived；　very　important　foreigner　in　the　Green
Parrot。　As　Masarek　was　the　only　important　foreigner　to　arrive　recently　in　Juarez；　Finn　assumed
that　he　was　the　one　who　would　meet　Refugio　tonight。　He　assumed；　but　he　was　not　certain。　He
would　not　be　certain　until　he　saw　Masarek　here；　tonight。
None　of　the　people　Finn　saw　matched　his　description　of　Masarek。　Mexicans；　Europeans　and
Orientals　occupied　the　cantina’s　rough　tables。　Among　them　circulated　Refugio’s　whores；
including　his　favorite；　Rubia。　She　was　limber；　blond；　and　perhaps　fourteen。　Despite　her　dyed
hair；　Rubia　was　unusally　pretty。　She　moved　from　table　to　table；　dispensing　drinks　and　sexual
invitation　with　equal　ease。
The　crowd　around　the　cockfight　humped　up　suddenly　and　roared　like　a　breaking　wave。　Finn
knew　without　looking　that　one　cock　had　been　wounded。　The　birds　varied　from　fight　to　fight；　but
the　crowd’s　bay　at　first　blood　was　always　the　same。　The　fight　itself　promised　to　be　special；
though；　one　of　the　birds　was　Refugio’s　favorite；　a　scarred　survivor　of　many　battles。
People　screamed　prayers　and　imprecations　in　most　of　the　civilized　languages　of　man。　Bets　flew
among　the　feathers　as　the　cocks　ripped　each　other　with　bloody　spurs。　Sweating；　Refugio　waved　a
fistful　of　money；　boasting　and　betting　on　the　red　cock’s　prowess。　The　crowd　heaved　and
re…formed；　blocking　Finn’s　view　of　Refugio。
The　Indio　woman’s　hiss　slid　between　the　shrill　sounds　of　the　cantina。　Without　looking　at　her；
Finn　glanced　to　his　right。　Several　American　servicemen　were　wandering　toward　him；　obviously
looking　for　a　table。
“Mind　if　we　sit　with　you？”　asked　one　of　the　men。
“Yes；”　said　Finn。
“Friendly　type；　huh。”
“No。”

“Are　you　an　American？”　demanded　the　man。
“Sometimes；”　said　Finn；　completing　the　recognition　sequence。
With　a　sound　of　disgust；　the　man　herded　his　friends　back　into　the　cantina’s　mainstream。　They
wedged　themselves　along　the　bar　and　prepared　to　wait　for　a　vacant　table。
Finn　did　not　look　at　them　again。　His　mind　was　ticking　off　seconds　with　the　precision　of　a
stopwatch。　When　the　count　reached　three　hundred；　he　finished　his　beer；　tipped　the　cook
generously；　and　prepared　to　leave　the　Green　Parrot　as　inconspicuously　as　he　had　arrived。
As　he　stood　up；　the　crowd　around　the　pit　shrieked　and　moaned。　The　cockfight　was　approaching
its　climax。　The　birds　leaped　and　raked　over　each　other；　steel　spurs　ripping　out　feathers　and
blood。　He　watched；　realizing　that　the　red　cock　had　finally　met　his　equal。　The　fighters　were　well
matched。　Too　well　matched。　Like　the　German　army　at　Stalingrad　and　the　U。S。　Marines　on
Japanese…held　islands；　the　only　winner　was　death。
The　screams　changed　in　pitch。　One　cock　was　down；　disemboweled；　its　black…and…white　feathers
sprayed　with　blood。　The　red　cock　began　to　crow　triumphantly；　then　reeled　sideways　as　its　blood
pumped　out　of　a　slashed　artery。　Both　cocks　thrashed　about　in　the　dusty　pit　while　Refugio　yelled
for　his　favorite　to　stand　up　and　be　proven　the　winner。
Both　cocks　died；　steel　spurs　raking　the　dust。　Vicious　arguments　started　over　which　cock　had
died　first。
Refugio　shouldered　into　the　pit；　swearing　at　the　bettors　and　handlers　alike。　At　his　command；　the
Yaquis　held　the　cocks　aloft　for　his　inspection。　Guts　slid　down　dusty　arms；　trailing　ribbons　of
blood。　He　prodded　the　big　red　bird　while　men　shouted　at　him；　shrill　as　roosters。　The　crowded
fragmented　into　fist…　and　knife…fights。
As　Finn　watched；　three　men　clubbed　their　way　to　Refugio’s　side。　He　did　not　need　his
bodyguards　to　restore　order；　though。　His　own　fists　and　boots　were　enough。　Men　went　down
around　him；　and　stayed　down。　Soon　there　was　no　one　left　fighting。　He　shouted　over　the　angry
bettors；　pointing　out　that　the　spotted　cock　had　gone　down　first　and　stayed　down　until　it　died。
Men　yelled　back；　saying　that　Refugio’s　red　cock　had　died　first。　Refugio　began　reciting　the
superior　points　of　the　red　cock。
Finn　eased　through　the　cantina；　listening　to　the　Mexican’s　harangue　on　behalf　of　his　favorite
cock。　Several　thousand　dollars　were　at　stake；　but　it　was　pride　as　much　as　money　that　goaded
Refugio；　a　man　whose　pride　was　legend。
Suddenly；　Refugio’s　voice　dropped。　Finn　turned　back；　wondering　what　had　happened　to　silence
the　arrogant　smuggler。　One　of　Refugio’s　bodyguards　stood　close　to　him；　talking　quietly；
gesturing　with　a　sawed…off　shotgun。　Refugio’s　eyebrows　swept　together　in　a　thick　frown。　He
turned　to　the　Yaquis　who　stood　impassively；　death　dangling　from　their　hands。　At　his　curt　gesture
they　lowered　the　limp　birds。　While　he　spoke；　the　handlers　reached　into　covered　baske