“Hands on the door, feet back and spread. The position, man.”
Albright stood with his hands on his hips a moment, then did as he was told.
“I’m not wearing a wire.”
“Uh-huh.” He felt Albright all over, including his crotch. He inspected his belt and his shoes and his pen. He examined his sunglasses. He looked at the patch on his jeans. Then he removed Albright’s wallet and moved back against the sink. “You can turn around now.”
Albright watched him go through it. He looked at the driver’s license carefully, the library card, the automobile registration and insurance cards, the receipts from the food store and the laundry, the credit cards. He counted the cash. It was in hundreds, twenty of them. “Gonna play poker tonight?”
The Minotaur
“I like to pay in cash.”
“Why the credit cards then?”
“You never know.”
Judy passed the wallet back. “You want to talk to me, then you walk out there and cancel our dinner orders and pay the tab. Leave a tip. We’ll go to a place I pick. You drive, but I don’t want you to say one word in the car. Not a word. Got it?”
“Okay.”
In the car Judy pointed in the direction he wanted Albright to go. Meanwhile he watched the other cars. They weren’t being fol- lowed. He had Albright make a series of random turns, then take the road leading east. Fifteen miles later they came to a big road- house at a crossroads. Judy gestured and Albright drove into the tot and killed the engine.
They went to a booth in the back and Judy seated himself so that he could watch the door.
“You were saying?”
“Kilderkin.”
“What about it?”
“Kilderkin is the access word for a file in the computer at the Pentagon. It’s a file held in the office where you work. The Athena file. I can supply you with the code words to get to it. I want you to copy the Athena file onto a floppy disk and give it to me,”
“All of it? All the documents?”
“Yes. It might take more than one disk.”
“Might. What do I get out of it?”
“A hundred grand.”
Commander Smoke Judy stared at him a while, then looked around the room thoughtfully. In a moment the waiter came over. They asked for beers and menus.
“What do you know about that file?” Judy asked.
“I’m not going to tell you. Let’s just say I want it.”
“Why?”
“All you need to know is I want it a hundred thousand dollars’ worth.”
“You don’t want it bad enough.”
“How badly do I have to want it?”
“If you ever decide you want it for a quarter million reasons, you come talk to me. Half up front and half on delivery. Cash. Used twenties.”
“No. That’s not— No!”
Judy picked up his menu. “I think I’ll have the bacon cheese- burger. What about you?”
“Maybe a plain hamburger.”
Judy nodded and waited patiently for the waiter.
When they had finished their greaseburgers and were drinking a cup of coffee, Albright said, “If I pay you fifty tonight, fifty on Monday, when could you have the disks?”
“When will you have the rest of the money?”
“A week from Monday.”
“Then that’s when you get the disks.”
At seven o’clock Luis Camacho called his in-laws. Sally answered.
“Hey. You made it.”
“Oh, Luis. It’s going to be a nice visit. The folks are a little baffled, but they’re delighted to have us.”
“Great. It’ll go okay.”
“What did you do this afternoon? What did you have for din- ner?”
They discussed the condition of the larder for three or four min- utes, then Camacho wished her good night.
An hour and a half later the phone rang. “He’s headed home,” Dreyfus reported.
“Who was with him?”
“Don’t know. We got an infrared photo as they crossed the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. The photographer isn’t very optimistic. They came on into the metro area and stopped at a storage place in Bladensburg for a bit. Then the subject dropped the passenger at a Metro station and he was gone by the time we could get a man into the station. Subject is heading your way now. He’ll be there in about five minutes.”
“Get someone over to Smoke Judy’s place. See if they can spot him coming home. And get a list of the license numbers of the cars parked around that bar where the subject picked up his passenger. Run them through the computer.”
“Okay, boss. Anything else?”
“When will the photo be ready?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“And I put a stakeout on the storage lot. Thought we might get a warrant tomorrow and search it.”
“The subject will be making some phone calls tonight or tomor- row. Be ready.”
“You really think he’s going to move?”
“He’s got to. He’s got to go for checkmate or concede.”
“Keep your gun handy.”
On Sunday morning Luis Camacho was painting the yard furniture when Harlan Albright hailed him across the back fence. He came through the gate and settled himself on one of the chairs waiting for its spring coat.
“I have another brush in the garage if you want to help.”
Albright grinned and sipped his coffee. “Who said Tom Sawyer is dead? Sorry. I gotta go run some errands this morning.” He looked at the house. “Where’s Sally?”
“Went to visit her mother.” Camacho was working on a table leg and didn’t look up.
“Oh.”
“Women,” Luis muttered.
“Yeah. Gonna stay a week or two?”
“Dunno.”
“Like that, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“And the boy?”
“He went too. It’s been years since he spent time with his grand- parents. He didn’t want to go, of course.”
Albright watched Camacho work on the table. The paint ran down the brush onto his fingers, which he wiped on the grass. “May rain this afternoon, you know,” Albright said.
“Just my luck.”
“What would you say to packing it in and going home?”
Camacho put the paintbrush in the can and stood up. He looked carefully at Albright, trying to read his expression.
“You mean Russia?”
“Yeah. You been here what? Twenty-eight or — nine years?”
