Steal The Sun(战争间谍)-第8部分

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bending　beneath　an　invisible　wind。
Vanessa　walked　to　a　heavily　curtained　window。　She　pulled　the　cloth　aside　slightly；　ignoring　the
two　men。　In　the　distance　she　could　see　the　buildings　of　Calexico　and　Mexicali；　a　single　entity　but
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for　the　geographic　accident　of　an　international　border　dividing　their　sprawl　into　two　unequal
cities。
Refugio　turned　to　Masarek。　“You　have　seen　my　houses　and　my　tunnel。　It　is　as　I　told　you　–　a　very
safe　way　to　take　something　across　the　border。　Well　worth　the　15；0001　will　charge　for　its　rent。”
“I　would　not　pay　you　that　much　if　the　tunnel　bypassed　hell；”　said　Masarek；　his　voice　colorless。
“You　are　also　buying　my　services　–　and　my　silence。”
“Both　have　yet　to　be　proved。”
“Perhaps　the　price　is　too　high；”　Refugio　conceded；　shrugging；　“but　you　have　not　told　me　what　it
is　you　want　done。　I　have　shared　with　you　the　secrets　of　my　work　and　you　have　shared　nothing。
So　my　price　is　high。　Offended　pride；　you　understand。”
“Your　price　is　ridiculous。”
Vanessa　listened　to　the　two　men　argue。　Refugio　oozed　reason；　while　Masarek　displayed　casual
contempt。　She　listened；　counting　the　houses　between　herself　and　the　outskirts　of　Calcxico。　When
she　had　counted　them　four　times；　the　men　were　no　closer　to　agreeing　than　when　she　had　started。
Vanessa　let　the　colorful　curtain　fall　back　into　place。　“Refugio。”
At　the　single　word　from　Vanessa；　both　men　stopped　arguing。　Refugio　turned　and　stared　at　the
white…skinned　woman　whose　voice　was　oddly　different。　When　she　spoke　again；　he　realized　that
her　speech　had　lost　its　intriguing　breathiness。
“Our　employers　are　willing　to　pay　you；　within　reason；　for　your　services。　Fifteen　thousand　dollars
is　not　within　reason。　Ten　is。　No；”　she　said　when　she　saw　Refugio　begin　to　speak。　“I’m　not
bargaining。　Ten　thousand　dollars　or　nothing　at　all。”
Refugio　knew　inflexibility　when　he　met　it。　He　hesitated；　then　nodded　a　curt　agreement。　Ten
thousand　was　three　thousand　more　than　he　would　have　settled　for。
“That’s　too　much　money；　of　course；”　said　Vanessa。　“In　return　for　it；　you　will　cooperate
completely　with　both　Masarek　and　me。　If　I　tell　you　to　do　something；　you　will　do　it　without
argument。”
Vanessa　waited；　measuring　the　proud　Mexican　with　a　single　glance。
“Yes；”　he　said　at　last。
“Good。　As　for　what　you　will　help　us　smuggle　–　and　yes；　steal　–　you　don’t　need　to　know　anything
beyond　what　Masarek　will　tell　you。”　Vanessa’s　smile　took　none　of　the　hardness　from　her　voice。
“Nor；”　she　continued　smoothly；　“do　you　need　to　know　our　real　names　or　anything　else　about
our　lives。　Any　man　you　send　after　us　will　be　fortunate　to　walk　away　as　well　as　your　tame
Apache。”
While　Vanessa　spoke；　she　produced　a　packet　of　money　from　her　purse。　With　a　deft　movement
of　her　hands　she　fanned　the　money；　twenty　100　bills。　Refugio　stared。
“If　you　agree　to　the　terms；”　continued　Vanessa；　“you　can　have　this　2；000　now。　If　you　don’t
agree；　you　may　keep　500。　You　may；　of　course；　try　to　take　the　rest；　and　then　Masarek　will　kill
you。　Do　we　have　a　bargain；　Se？or　Refugio？”
Vanessa’s　long　fingernail　traced　the　fan　of　bills；　making　them　rustle　seductively。　Refugio　smiled。
He　took　the　bills　with　a　swift　movement　that　surprised　Vanessa。
“You　are　una　bandida；”　Refugio　said　appreciatively。　“You　understand　how　to　get　what　you
want。　That　is　good。”
The　words　were　said　softly；　in　the　tones　of　a　man　speaking　to　a　lover。　Refugio’s　dark　eyes
looked　at　every　inch　of　Vanessa。　He　pocketed　the　bills　and　laughed　quietly。
“We’ll　do　well　together；　you　and　I；”　Refugio　said　in　a　warm　voice。　“Bandida。”
Refugio’s　caressing　laugh　and　eyes　repelled　Vanessa。　She　turned　aside　and　saw　Masarek’s　face。
To　anyone　who　did　not　know　him；　his　expression　had　not　changed；　but　Vanessa　knew　Masarek。
She　smiled；　hoping　she　would　be　nearby　when　Refugio　could　no　longer　laugh。
“Masarek；”　Vanessa　said　coolly；　“will　stay　with　you　from　now　on。　You’ll　leave　today　for　Hunters
Point。”　Her　eyes　narrowed。　“You’re　sure　that　Ho’s　truck　won’t　be　searched　at　the　gate？”
“My　cousins　say　it　is　an　open　secret。　The　truck　hasn’t　been　searched　for　more　than　a　year。”　He
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smiled。　“The　Navy　probably　knows　about　the　betting　slips　in　the　truck；　but　it’s　a　small　thing。
Soldiers　gamble。　If　not　with　Ho；　then　with　someone　else。”
Vanessa　hesitated；　then　nodded　curtly。　The　laundry　truck　was　an　unavoidable　risk。
“When　will　I　get　the　rest　of　my　money？”　asked　Refugio。
“In　the　tunnel；　after　you　return　from　San　Francisco。”
Refugio　nodded　slowly。　“Bueno。”
“Yes；”　said　Masarek；　“it　will　be　good。”　His　smile　was　calm；　predatory。　“Very　good。”
Juarez
40　Hours　Before　Trinity
“Momentito；”　said　Ana。　She　covered　the　telephone　receiver　with　her　palm　and　whispered　in
rapid　Japanese　to　Kestrel。　“Refugio　calls。　He　must　speak　Spanish　because　Masarek　is　there。”
Kestrel　set　aside　his　rice　bowl　and　watched　Ana　with　an　alertness　that　belied　his　lack　of　sleep。
“Cuidado；”　warned　Ana；　speaking　softly　yet　very　rapidly　into　the　phone。　“They　may　know　more
of　the　language　than　you　believe。”
Refugio’s　harsh　laugh　came　clearly　through　the　phone。　Then　he　spoke　so　quickly　that　even　a
Mexican　would　have　had　difficulty　understanding　him。　Ana　frowned；　concentrating。
“Momentito。”　Ana　covered　the　receiver　and　spoke　to　Kestrel　in　soft　Japanese；　bending　over
until　her　face　was　only　inches　from　his　ear。　“They　are　to　leave　immediately　for　a　place　called
Hunters　Point；　San　Francisco。　It’s　some　kind　of　a　military　base。　They　are　going　to　steal
something。　He　isn’t　happy　about　the　risk；　but　has　agreed　to　do　it　anyway　–　for　more　money；　of
course。”
“Yes；”　said　Kestrel　impatiently。　“But　what　is　he　going　to　steal？”
Before　Ana　could　ask　Refugio；　his　voice　came　loudly　through　the　telephone。　He　was　yelling　in
English　and　cursing　in　Spanish。
“My　men　are　Mexican；　pendejo！　If　I　speak　English　to　them　they　don’t　understand　me　when　I　ask
for　two　cars　with　California　license　plates。　But　someone　must　get　the　cars　because　you　won’t　let
me　leave　the　house。　It’s　too　bad　you　don’t　speak　Spanish　so　you　understand　what　I　say　to　my
men。　Qué　lástima；　cabrón！　You’ll　just　have　to　trust　me。　Or　maybe　you’d　rather　walk　to　San
Francisco　and　back？”
Refugio’s　voice　faded。　Ana　held　the　phone　to　her　ear；　then　shook　her　head　in　answer　to　Kestrel’s
silent　query。　Abruptly；　Refugio’s　voice　returned；　speaking　Spanish　in　a　normal　tone。
“What　are　you　going　to　steal　from　Hunters　Point？”　asked　Ana　quickly。　She　listened；　covered　the
receiver；　and　turned　back　to　whisper　to　Kestrel。　“He　doesn’t　know。　He’ll　take　two　of　his　men；
plus　Masarek　and　the　woman。　He　needs　two　cars　with　California　plates。　The　licenses　and　the　cars
have　to　be　legitimate。　After　Hunters　Point；　they’ll　switch　vehicles　and　drive　back　to　the　tunnel　in
the　second　car。”
Kestrel　frowned　harshly。　General　Arisue　had　ordered　him　to　stay　in　Juarez　until　his　orders　were
clarified。　Yet　Kestrel　was　fascinated　by　a　prize　that　was　worth　the　insane　risk　Masarek　was　taking
by　invading　an　American　naval　base。
“Ana。　Are　you　sure　Refugio　said　Hunters　Point？”
“Yes。”
Kestrel’s　frown　deepened。　Hunters　Point　was　one　of　America’s　major　Pacific　naval　depots；
debarkation　point　for　many　of　the　warships　that　harried　the　Imperial　Navy。
“When　will　he　be　at　Hunters　Point？”　asked　Kestrel。
Ana　spoke　rapidly；　listened；　then　turned　to　Kestrel。　“The　car　they’ll　use　after　Hunters　Point　has
to　be　in　Oakland　by　3　A。M。　on　the　16th；　so　he　assumes　that　the　theft　will　occur　before　then。”
The　16th。　Less　than　two　days　away。　If　he　had　to　stay　in　Juarez　because　of　the　test；　then　someone
would　have　to　go　to　Oakland　in　his　place。　He　could　not　trust　Refugio　to　deliver　the　weapon
unless　someone　was　there；　watching　him。　But　the　only　person　who　could　go　in　Kestrel’s　place
was　Ana。　Takagura　had　been　adamant　in　his　belief　that　Ana　was　the　only　other　person　he　could
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trust　with　the　Emperor’s　highest　secrets。
Yet　the　thought　of　sending　Ana　made　Kestrel　deeply　uneasy。　She　was　trained　only　for　the　safer
aspects　of　espionage；　translating　periodicals　and　enemy　documents　obtained　by　other　agents
who　risked　their　lives　to　steal　the　information。
“Can　Refugio　get　the　cars　or　does　he　need　Takagura’s　help？”　asked　Kestrel。
“The　cars　are　taken　care　of；”　said　Ana　after　a　moment。　She　added；　“They’re　paying　him　15；000
American　dollars。”
Kestrel　shrugged。　“Our　bargain　remains。　Three　times　what　they　pay　him；　I　will　pay。”
Ana’s　eyes　widened；　but　none　of　her　shock　showed　in　her　voice。　She　spoke　into　the　phone　and
then　listened。
“The　Englishwoman　will　meet　them　in　Oakland　after　the　theft　and　drive　back　with　them　to　the
tunnel。　She’s　more　than　just　Masarek’s　whore。　She　is　his　equal；　perhaps　his　superior。”
Kestrel’s　eyes　narrowed；　emphasizing　the　harsh　planes　of　his　face。　Ana　looked　away　quickly；　this
was　the　Kestrel　she　sensed　beneath　the　polite；　polished　exterior；　the　samurai　she　both　admired
and　feared。
“Where　will　she　meet　them？”　asked　Kestrel。
Ana　asked　Refugio；　waited；　then　translated　quickly。　“Oakland。　I　know　the　place　he　means。　On
the　waterfront。　Factories。　Cars　and　many　trucks。　A　few　more　won’t　be　noticed。”
“Tell　Refugio　not　to　kill　the　woman　when　he　kills　Masarek。　I　　if　I
can’t　meet　him　on　the　waterfront；　you　will。　You’ll　pick　up　him；　the　woman；　and　whatever　they
stole　and　bring　them　to　his　cousin’s　flower　shop。　When　I　get　there；　I’ll　give　him　15；000。　The
other　30；000　wil　be　paid　when　we’re　safe　in　Mexico。　Do　you　understand？”
Ana　nodded；　understanding　too　much　–　and　not　enough。　She　buried　her　unease　beneath　a　rush
of　Spanish。　Then　she　paused；　said　“Si”　and　hung　up。
Eyes　hooded；　body　perfectly　still；　Kestrel　sat　a　few　feet　away；　watching　her。　He　had　not　intended
to　involve　her　so　deeply　in　his　actions。　She　was　born　American；　not　Japanese；　and　was　alien　to
the　samurai　tradition。　He　doubted　that　she　had　ever　seen　more　than　her　monthly　blood。　He
hoped　she　would　not　be　there　when　Refugio　killed　Masarek。　He　hoped　she　would　not　have　to
see　those　agonizing　minutes　when　sweat　dulled　the　English　woman’s　bright　hair　and　the　woman
screamed　and　begged　until　finally　answers　tumbled　out　of　her　bleeding　lips；　words　and　sense　and
nonsense；　anything　to　stop　the　pain…。
Kestrel　sighed；　regretting　General　Arisue’s　orders。　But　perhaps　the　bomb　test　would　not　be　for
several　days。　Then　he　would　have　time　to　go　to　Hunters　Point　and　Alamo…gordo　both。　He　must
find　out　the　test　date　soon。　But　first　he　must　give　Ana　something　more　to　hold　on　to　than　vague
yearnings　for　Japan。　She　was　too　American　to　die　for　something　she　could　not　touch。
He　held　out　his　hand。　His　voice　was　gentle。　“Will　you　sit　beside　me？”
Ana’s　fingertips　brushed　Kestrel’s　palm。　Her　nails　oons；　as　gently　curved
as　her　body。　When　she　sat　down；　the　hem　of　her　silk　kimono　settled　across　his　thigh。　She　moved
to　gather　in　the　cloth；　but　his　hand　stopped　her。
“Beautiful；”　said　Kestrel；　stroking　the　rose…colored　silk　that　glowed　against　the　black　fabric　of
his　trousers。　He　looked　up　suddenly；　holding　her　with　his　dark　Asiatic　eyes。　“I　don’t　want　you　to
go　to　Hunters　Point；　Ana。　I　don’t　want　you　to　be　hurt。　But　I　may　have　no　choice。”
Kestrel’s　voice　was　as　gentle　as　his　fingers　touching　Ana’s　robe；　but　the　truth　of　his　words　was
not　gentle　at　all。
“Unless；”　his　fingers　moved　from　the　silk　of　her　kimono　to　the　silk　of　her　skin；　“there　is　time　for
me　to　go　to　San　Francisco　and　get　back　before　the　test。　But　I　don’t　know　when　the　test　is。”
“I’ve　tried　to　find　out；”　Ana　said　quickly。
“I　know。　It’s　not　your　fault。　It’s　karma。”　Kestrel’s　smile　was　genuine　and　sad。
“I　don’t　mind　going　back　to　San　Francisco；”　Ana　said；　running　the　words　together；　hoping　to
cover　the　lie　and　knowing　it　lay　in　the　middle　of　her　words　like　a　stone。　“I’m　just…　frightened。”
Kestrel　gathered　Ana　into　his　lap　as　he　would　a　child。　He　felt　the　warmth　of　her　hands　through
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his　shirt　as　she　held　on　to　him　fiercely；　as　though　she　could　share　his　strength　just　by　touching
him。
“You’re　very　brave。　Yes；”　he　repeated；　sensing　argument　in　her　suddenly　stiff　body；　“brave。　You
gave　up　everything　you　knew　out　of　loyalty　to　a　country　that　lives　only　in　your　mind。”
Ana　said　nothing。　In　the　silence　came　the　sound　of　wind　chimes　turning　in　a　slow　stirring　of　air。
“When　I　was　a　child　–　“　Ana’s　voice　trembled；　then　broke。
“Yes；　Ana？”
“I　didn’t　belong　anyates　were　Mexican；　not　Nisei；
because　my　father　was　a　field　worker。　But　I　wasn’t　Mexican。　When　I　was　older　we　lived　in　San
Francisco；　but　by　then　I　was　more　Mexican　than　Nisei。　In　school　they　told　me　I　was　American
and　I　believed　them　until　–　until　–　“
“Pearl　Harbor。”
“Yes！”　Ana　looked　up　at　Kestrel；　her　eyes　deep　with　tears　and　rage。　“A　country　I’d　never　seen
bombed　a　place　I’d　never　heard　of　and　suddenly　I　was　a　criminal！　AJap”
Ana　closed　her　eyes；　shuddering　with　the　effort　of　controlling　herself。　When　she　spoke　again；　her
voice　was　calm。　“They　were　right　about　one　thing。　I　am　Japanese。”
Kestrel　shook　his　head；　knowing　Ana　was　never　more　American　than　when　she　defied　the
American　government　and　fled。　The　true　Japanese　were　still　scattered　across　America　in　prison
camps；　accepting　their　karma　with　the　unflinching　loyalty　and　stoicism　of　their　Japanese　heritage。
But　Kestrel　did　not　tell　Ana　his　thoughts；　he　could　not；　for　she　would　not　understand　that
slanted　eyes　and　silk　kimonos　did　not　make　her　Japanese。　Yet　she　had　courage；　and　she　was　a
sweet　warmth　in　his　lap。
Kestrel　bent　his　head　until　his　lips　rested　on　Ana’s　neck。　She　pressed　more　closely　to　his　chest。
The　phone　rang。　Ana　made　an　involuntary　sound　of　rebellion。　Kestrel’s　lips　brushed　the　curve　of
her　ear。
“There　is　time；”　he　said。　“I’ve　waited　since　I　first　saw　you。”
The　phone　rang；　demanding。
Ana　shifted　in　Kestrel’s　lap。　Through　the　silk　of　her　kimono　she　felt　his　heat　and　desire。
Reassured；　she　smiled　and　leaned　across　him　to　pick　up　the　phone。
“Bueno；”　said　Ana；　settling　comfortably　against　Kestrel。
“Bueno；　se？orita。　Como　esta？”
Ana’s　hand　tightened　on　the　phone　as　she　recognized　the　clean；　unaccented　Spanish　of　the　man
who　always　made　her　feel　like　a　child。　The　world　and　the　war　returned　to　her　in　a　cold　rush。　Her
rebellion　showed　in　her　voice　and　in　the　tension　of　her　body。
“Finn。”
A　momentary　tightening　went　through　Kestrel’s　body；　followed　by　a　deep　relaxation　that
permitted　him　to　focus　only　on　the　instant　that　was　before　him。　He　was　wholly　alert　in　the
presence　of　his　enemy；　alive　in　a　way　Ana　would　never　understand。　He　had　no　doubt　that　Finn
was　his　enemy。　When　he　had　described　the　man　in　the　Green　Parrot　to　Ana；　she　had　immediately
identified　Finn。　She　hated　the　American；　but　they　met　anyway；　whenever　Takagura　had
misleading　half…truths　or　cunning　lies　to　pass　on　to　U。S。　intelligence　agents。　Although　Ana　had
not　admitted　it；　Kestrel　sensed　she　was　afraid　of　Finn。
Kestrel　listened　with　Ana　as　Finn　spoke。　“I　thought　you　might　like　to　tell　me　more　about　why
Japan　will　win　the　war。　Fifteen　minutes？　Same　place？”
“Wait；”　said　Ana。　“I’ll　have　to　see　if　Takagura　needs　me。”
Ana　covered　the　phone　and　waited　for　Kestrel’s　response。　Her　expression　was　neutral。
Kestrel　knew　that　it　was　his　choice　–　send　Ana　to　Finn　or　keep　her　here　and　make　love　to　her　as
she　wanted。　He　needed　Ana’s　cooperation；　but　even　more；　he　must　have　her　allegiance。　Yet　he
must　also　have　more　information　about　Alamogordo；　quickly；　and　the　man　called　Finn　was
reputed　to　know　many　secrets。
Kestrel　lifted　Ana　out　of　his　lap　as　if　she　weighed　no　more　than　the　telephone　she　held。　Although
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her　expression　did　not　change；　Kestrel　sensed　first　her　stiffness；　then　her　resignation。
“Yes；”　said　Ana　into　the　phone；　her　voice　flat；　“I’m　not　wanted　here。”
Kestrel’s　hand　closed　over　the　mouthpiece　of　the　phone。　“Tell　him　one　hour。”　His　fingers
caressed　the　nape　of　her　neck；　then　slowly　withdrew。
“Momentito；”　Ana　said；　her　voice　light；　almost　breathless。　“Takagura　Omi’s　friend　needs　a
translator。　An　hour；　Finn。　I　will　meet　you　in　an　hour。”
Ana　hung　up　before　Finn　could　either　agree　or　object。　Behind　her；　buttons　clicked　lightly　against
wood　as　Kestrel　laid　his　shirt　across　the　table。　He　unrolled　his　sleeping　mat　with　a　single　quick
movement。
Juarez
38　Hours　Before　Trinity
The　newspaper　rattled　as　Finn　folded　it；　glanced　at　his　watch；　and　then　at　the　street。　The　town
square　was　dulled　beneath　the　weight　of　heat　and　time；　a　weight　that　dragged　on　the　buildings；
blunting　adobe　corners。
A　melange　of　smells　floated　through　the　open　café　door。　Sun　and　dust；　refried　beans　laced　with
chiles；　fruit　ripe　and　rotten；　an　open　sewer　thick　with　grit　and　human　excrement；　roses　in　a
concealed　garden。　Finn　smelled　none　of　those　odors　unless　he　made　a　special　effort。　Juarez　had
toughened　his　nose　in　the　same　way　that　the　sun　had　thickened　his　skin。　Nor　did　he　notice　the
flics　that　skated　lazily　down　shafts　of　yellow　light。　Flies　and　heat　and　yapping　dogs；　Juarez　in　July。
Where　was　Ana？
Finn　stared　down　the　gloomy　alley　that　paralleled　the　café；　dividing　it　from　other　businesses。
The　alley　seemed　to　pause；　then　unravel　itself　into　paths　that　twisted　around　the　intricate
societies　enclosed　by　eight　tong　temples；　center　of　Juarez’s　Oriental　colony。
Viewed　from　the　front；　the　temples　were　clean；　blank　and　forbidding。　They　showed　nothing　of
their　interior　nature。　Their　only　identification　was　their　oddly　elegant　architecture　and　the
keystones　or　cornerstones　that　displayed　each　temple’s　name　and　founding　date。
From　the　outside；　Colonia　Chino　appeared　monolithic；　but　inside　it　was　a　warren　of　factions；
rival　tongs　and　nationalities。　It　whispered　its　own　intrigues；　lived　its　own　lies　and　truths　inside　the
body　of　Juarez　like　a　benign　tumor　that　had　been　encapsulated　but　would　never　be　absorbed　by
its　host。
The　self…enclosed　Oriental　colony　had　provided　Japan　with　a　secure　staging　area　for　infiltration；
sabotage　and　spying。　It　also　precluded　Finn　from　entering　the　colonia　to　search　for　Ana。　His
presence　would　trip　alarms　throughout　the　neighborhood；　spreading　the　word　more　silently　but
just　as　surely　as　birds　in　a　jungle。　It　would　have　been　the　same　if　he　were　Mexican。　Outsider。
“Uno　más；　por　favor；”　said　Finn；　holding　up　his　empty　beer　bottle。
“Sí；　se？or；”　said　the　waitress。　“The　heat；　she　is　terrible；　no？　Like　the　burning　red　hell　the　Padre
talks　about。”
Finn　smiled　and　nodded　and　silently　disagreed。　He　knew　that　hell　was　every　shade　of　green。
Where　was　Ana？　Takagura　‘s　house　was　less　than　a　hundred　yards　away。
She　had　kept　him　waiting　before；　a　way　of　showing　her　contempt　for　all　things　American。　He
had　not　been　bothered　by　her　disdain。　She　was　Takagura’s　secretary　and　confidante；　and
Takagura　ran　the　Oriental　population　of　Mexico。　She　was　worth　waiting　for；　even　though　much
of　what　she　told　him　was　lies。　To　him；　lies　were　valuable；　they　told　him　what　the　Japanese
considered　important　enough　to　try　to　hide。
The　beer　was　icy　against　Finn’s　teeth；　a　sizzling　coldness　in　his　throat。　He　savored　the　flavor　and
chill　as　he　watched　the　narrow　shadows　in　the　alley　where　Ana　would　appear。　And　then　she　was
there；　walking　toward　him；　her　brilliant　silk　dress　shimmering　and　lifting　like