dk.watchers-第23部分

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the　happy　whine　turned　instantly　to　a　snarl。　Einstein　snapped　at　the　man；　who　jerked　back　into　the　corner　again。
　〃You're　finished；〃　Travis　told　the　runner。
　〃He　bit　me！　They　both　bit　me。〃　Petulant　rage。　Astonishment。　Disbelief。　〃flit　me。〃
　Like　a　lot　of　bullies　who'd　had　their　way　all　of　their　lives；　this　man　was　shocked　to　discover　he　could　be　hurt；　beaten。　Experience　had　taught　him　that　people　would　always　back　down　if　he　pressed　them　hard　enough　and　if　he　kept　a　crazy…mean　look　in　his　eyes。　He　thought　he　could　never　lose。　Now；　his　face　was　pale；　and　he　looked　as　if　he　was　in　a　state　of　shock。
　Travis　went　to　the　phone　and　called　the　police。
　　
　FIVE
　1
　Late　Thursday　morning；　May　20；　when　Vincent　Nasco　returned　from　his　one…day　vacation　in　Acapulco；　he　picked　up　the　Times　at　the　Los　Angeles　International　Airport　before　taking　the　muter　van…they　called　it　a　limousine；　but　it　was　a　van…back　to　Orange　County。　He　read　the　newspaper　during　the　trip　to　his　townhouse　in　Huntington　Beach；　and　on　page　three　he　saw　the　story　about　the　fire　at　Banodyne　Laboratories　in　Irvine。
　The　blaze　had　broken　out　shortly　after　six　o'clock　yesterday　morning；　when　Vince　had　been　on　his　way　to　the　airport　to　catch　the　plane　to　Acapulco。　One　of　the　two　Banodyne　buildings　had　been　gutted　before　the　firemen　had　brought　the　flames　under　control。
　The　people　who　had　hired　Vince　to　kill　Davis　Weatherby；　Lawton　Haines；　the　Yarbecks；　and　the　Hudstons　had　almost　certainly　employed　an　arsonist　to　torch　Banodyne。　They　seemed　to　be　trying　to　eradicate　all　records　of　the　Francis　Project；　both　those　stored　in　Banodyne　files　and　those　in　the　minds　of　the　scientists　who　had　participated　in　the　research。
　The　newspaper　said　nothing　about　Banodyne's　defense　contracts；　which　were　apparently　not　public　knowledge。　The　pany　was　referred　to　as　〃a　leader　in　the　genetic…engineering　industry；　with　a　special　focus　on　the　development　of　revolutionary　new　drugs　derived　from　rebinant…DNA　research。〃
　A　night　watchman　had　died　in　the　blaze。　The　Times　offered　no　explanation　as　to　why　he　had　been　unable　to　flee　the　fire。　Vince　figured　the　guy　had　been　killed　by　intruders；　then　incinerated　to　cover　the　murder。
　The　muter　van　ferried　Vince　to　the　front　door　of　his　townhouse。　The　rooms　were　cool　and　shadowy。　On　the　uncarpeted　floors；　each　footstep　was　hard　and　clearly　defined；　echoing　hollowly　through　the　nearly　empty　house。
　He　had　owned　the　place　for　two　years；　but　he　had　not　fully　furnished　it。　In　fact；　the　dining　room；　den；　and　two　of　the　three　bedrooms　contained　nothing　except　cheap　drapes　for　privacy。
　Vince　believed　that　the　townhouse　was　a　way　station；　a　temporary　residence　from　which　he　would　one　day　move　to　a　house　on　the　beach　at　Rincon；　where　the　surf　and　the　surfers　were　legendary；　where　the　vast　rolling　sea　was　the　overwhelming　fact　of　life。　But　his　failure　to　furnish　his　current　residence　had　nothing　to　do　with　its　temporary　status　in　his　plans。　He　simply　liked　bare　white　walls；　clean　concrete　floors；　and　empty　rooms。
　When　he　eventually　purchased　his　dream　house；　Vince　intended　to　have　polished　white　ceramic　tile　installed　on　the　floors　and　walls　in　every　one　of　its　big　rooms。　There　would　be　no　wood；　no　stone　or　brick；　no　textured　surfaces　to　provide　the　visual　〃warmth〃　that　other　people　seemed　to　prize。　The　furniture　would　be　built　to　his　specifications；　with　several　coats　of　glossy　white　enamel；　upholstered　in　white　vinyl。　The　only　deviations　that　he　would　permit　from　all　those　shiny　white　surfaces　would　be　the　necessary　use　of　glass　and　highly　polished　steel。　Then；　there；　thus　encapsulated；　he　would　at　last　feel　at　peace　and　at　home　for　the　first　time　in　his　life。
　Now；　after　unpacking　his　suitcase；　he　went　down　to　the　kitchen　to　prepare　lunch。　Tuna　fish。　Three　hard…boiled　eggs。　Half　a　dozen　rye　crackers。　Two　apples　and　an　orange。　A　bottle　of　Gatorade。
　The　kitchen　had　a　small　table　and　one　chair　in　the　corner；　but　he　ate　upstairs　in　the　sparsely　furnished　master　bedroom。　He　sat　in　a　chair　at　the　window　that　faced　west。　The　ocean　was　only　a　block　away；　on　the　other　side　of　the　Coast　Highway　and　beyond　a　wide　public　beach；　and　from　the　second　floor　he　could　see　the　rolling　water。
　The　sky　was　partially　overcast；　so　the　sea　was　dappled　with　sunshine　and　shadows。　In　some　places　it　looked　like　molten　chrome；　but　in　other　places　it　might　have　been　a　surging　mass　of　dark　blood。
　The　day　was　warm；　though　it　looked　strangely　cold；　wintry。
　Staring　at　the　ocean；　he　always　felt　that　the　ebb　and　flow　of　blood　through　his　veins　and　arteries　was　in　perfect　sympathy　with　the　rhythm　of　the　tides。
　When　he　finished　eating；　he　sat　for　a　while　in　munion　with　the　sea；　crooning　to　himself；　looking　through　his　faint　reflection　on　the　glass　as　if　peering　through　the　wall　of　an　aquarium；　although　he　felt　himself　to　be　within　the　ocean　even　now；　far　beneath　the　waves　in　a　clean；　cool；　endless　world　of　silence。
　Later　in　the　afternoon；　he　drove　his　van　to　Irvine　and　located　Banodyne　Laboratories。　Banodyne　was　set　against　the　backdrop　of　the　Santa　Ana　Mountains。　The　pany　had　two　buildings　on　a　multiple…acre　lot　that　was　surprisingly　large　in　an　area　of　such　expensive　real　estate：　one　L…shaped　two…story　structure　and　a　larger　V…shaped　single　story　with　only　a　few　narrow　Windows　that　made　it　look　fortresslike。　Both　were　very　modern　in　design；　a　striking　mix　of　flat　planes　and　sensuous　curves　faced　in　dark　green　and　gray　marble；　quite　attractive。　Surrounded　by　an　employee　parking　lot　and　by　immense　expanses　of　well…maintained　grass；　shaded　by　a　few　palms　and　coral　trees；　the　buildings　were　actually　larger　than　they　appeared　to　be；　for　their　true　scale　was　distorted　and　diminished　by　that　enormous　piece　of　flat　land。
　The　fire　had　been　confined　to　the　V…shaped　building　that　housed　the　labs。　The　only　indications　of　destruction　were　a　few　broken　windows　and　soot　Stains　on　the　marble　above　those　narrow　openings。
　The　property　was　not　walled　or　fenced；　so　Vince　could　have　walked　onto　it　from　the　street　if　he　had　wished；　although　there　was　a　simple　gate　and
　guard　booth　at　the　three…lane　entrance　road。　Judging　by　the　guard's　sidearm　and　by　the　subtly　forbidding　look　of　the　building　that　housed　the　research
　labs；　Vince　suspected　the　lawns　were　monitored　electronically　and　that；　at　night；　sophisticated　alarm　systems　would　alert　watchmen　to　an　intruder's　presence　before　he　had　taken　more　than　a　few　steps　across　the　grass。　The　arsonist　must　have　been　skilled　at　more　than　setting　fires；　he　must　also　have　had　a　wide　knowledge　of　security　systems。
　Vince　cruised　past　the　place；　then　turned　and　drove　by　from　the　other　direction。　Like　spectral　presences；　cloud　shadows　moved　slowly　across　the　lawn　and　slid　up　the　walls　of　the　buildings。　Something　about　Banodyne　gave　it　a　portentous…perhaps　even　slightly　ominous…look。　And　Vince　did　not　think　that　he　was　letting　his　view　of　the　place　be　unduly　colored　by　the　research　that　he　knew　to　have　been　conducted　there。
　He　drove　home　to　Huntington　Beach。
　Having　gone　to　Banodyne　in　the　hope　that　seeing　the　place　would　help　him　decide　how　to　proceed；　he　was　disappointed。　He　still　did　not　know　what　to　do　next。　He　could　not　figure　out　to　whom　he　could　sell　his　information　for　a　price　worth　the　risk　he　was　taking。　Not　to　the　U。S。　government：　it　was　their　information　to　begin　with。　And　not　to　the　Soviets；　the　natural　adversary；　for　it　was　the　Soviets　who　had　paid　him　to　kill　Weatherby；　the　Yarbecks；　the　Hudstons；　and　Haines。
　Of　course；　he　couldn't　prove　he　had　been　working　for　the　Soviets。　They　were　clever　when　they　hired　a　freelancer　like　him。　But　he　had　worked　for　these　people　as　often　as　he　had　taken　contracts　from　the　mob；　and　based　on　dozens　of　clues　over　the　years；　he　had　decided　they　were　Soviets。　Once　in　a　while　he　dealt　with　people　other　than　the　usual　three　contacts　in　L。A。；　and　invariably　they　spoke　with　what　sounded　like　Russian　accents。　Furthermore；　their　targets　were　usually　political　to　at　least　some　degree…or；　as　in　the　case　of　the　Banodyne　kills；　military　targets。　And　their　information　always　proved　more　thorough；　accurate；　and　sophisticated　than　the　information　he　was　given　by　the　mob　when　he　contracted　for　a　simple　gangland　hit。
　So　who　would　pay　for　such　sensitive　defense　information　if　not　the　U。S。　or　the　Soviets？　Some　third…world　dictator　looking　for　a　way　to　circumvent　the　nuclear　capabilities　of　the　most　powerful　countries？　The　Francis　Project　might　give　some　pocket　Hitler　that　edge；　elevate　him　to　a　world　power；　and　he　might　pay　well　for　it。　But　who　wanted　to　risk　dealing　with　Qaddafi　types？　Not　Vince。
　Besides；　he　possessed　information　about　the　existence　of　the　revolutionary　research　at　Banodyne；　but　he　did　not　have　detailed　files　on　how　the　Francis　Project's　miracles　had　been　acplished。　He　had　less　to　sell　than　he'd　first　thought。
　However；　in　the　back　of　his　mind；　an　idea　had　been　growing　since　yesterday。　Now；　as　he　continued　to　puzzle　over　a　potential　buyer　for　his　information；　that　idea　flowered。
　The　dog。
　At　home　again；　he　sat　in　his　bedroom；　staring　out　at　the　sea。　He　sat　there　even　after　nightfall；　after　he　could　no　longer　see　the　water；　and　he　thought　about　the　dog。
　Hudston　and　Haines　had　told　him　so　much　about　the　retriever　that　he'd　begun　to　realize　his　knowledge　of　the　Francis　Project；　although　potentially　explosive　and　valuable；　was　not　one…thousandth　as　valuable　as　the　dog　itself。　The　retriever　could　be　exploited　in　many　ways；　it　was　a　money　machine　with　a　tail。　For　one　thing；　he　could　probably　sell　it　back　to　the　government　or　to　the　Russians　for　a　bargeload　of　cash。　If　he　could　find　the　dog；　he　would　be　able　to　achieve　financial　independence。
　But　how　could　he　locate　it？
　All　over　southern　California；　a　quiet　search…almost　secret　yet　gigantic…　must　be　under　way。　The　Defense　Department　would　be　putting　tremendous　manpower　into　the　hunt；　and　if　Vince　crossed　paths　with　those　searchers；　they　would　want　to　know　who　he　was。　He　could　not　afford　to　draw　attention　to　himself。
　Furthermore；　if　he　conducted　his　own　search　of　the　nearest　Santa　Ana　foothills；　into　which　the　lab　escapees　had　almost　surely　fled；　he　might　encounter　the　wrong　one。　He　might　miss　the　golden　retriever　an