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rom old family money； a few from small fortunes they had made themselves。
It was sickening。 Wealth； privilege； power； spelled out in these files in black and white。 Oh； they had a few little peccadillos。 One man had flunked out of three colleges before he had pleted his education in a fourth。 Three drunken…driving convictions。 One illegitimate child。 One man had been known to frequent prostitutes in his younger days； and one had been accused of being a closet homosexual by a disgruntled soon…to…be…ex during a messy divorce。 Luis Camacho； career cop； thought it pretty tame stuff。
For several seconds he sat and stared at the piles of folders spread over the table。 No cop； he told himself； ever looked seriously at a more unlikely group of suspects。 There wasn't even one man with a family or background that might be vulnerable to intense scrutiny。 Not here。 These men had had every advantage that birth； wealth； and social position could confer。 Sadly he shook his head。
If the key to the Minotaur's behavior was in his past； it was going to remain buried unless a small army of agents with a lot of time were told to dig deep。 The agents Camacho could get。 What frustrated Camacho was his suspicion that he was running out of time。 What infuriated him was his conviction that no matter how deep they dug； the investigators could e up dry。 And without something。。。 some artifact。。。 something tangible； how could he sell a man to Albright as the Minotaur？ Albright would want a man he could understand； with a motivation that could be reduced to writing and passed from the Aquarium to the Kremlin and would explain。 The mittee should have thought this problem through two years ago。
He went back to his office and found a photo of Terry Franklin in the file。 Actually there were four of them。 The one he selected was a full…figure shot taken with a hidden camera。 Franklin was looking just to the right of the camera； perhaps waiting for a car to pass the parked van the photographer had used。 This picture he placed in an inside pocket of his sports coat。 He glanced at his watch。 If he went to the Pentagon； he could probably still catch Vice Admiral Henry； who rarely left before 7 P。M。
Terry Franklin stopped at a neighborhood bar after he got off the bus from work。 On the Friday evening of the longest week of his life； he deserved a few drinks。 Waiting for the ax to fall was squeezing the juice right out of him。 He had been a bumbling fool all week； botching one job after another； having to ask the chief for help with several problems that were so minor he had been embarrassed。 The chief was solicitous； asking if he was having problems at home。
The problem was he couldn't think about anything else。 He could no longer concentrate on his job； his wife； the kids； anything。 He had to get his mind off it and he just couldn't！ Sitting here at the bar； he glanced warily at the other customers； then bit his lip。 A panic…stricken scream was just beneath the surface。 He was losing it。 It was like one of those nightmares he had as a kid…he was fleeing from a hideous monster and his legs went slower and slower and the monster was reaching out； within inches of catching him…and he woke up screaming with pee soaking his pajamas。
He was going to have to get all this crap stuffed into one sock； going to have to wire himself together so he could get from one end of the day to the other。 He had all of tonight； all day Saturday； all day Sunday…three nights and two whole days…before he had to face his demons on Monday。
He ordered another CC on the rocks。 Sure； he could do it。 No one knew。 No one was going to arrest him。 No one was going to toss him into prison with a bunch of homo thieves and killers。 After all； this is America； land of the gullible； home of the foolish。
He would deliver and collect on another dozen floppies or so。 Then he would empty his safe…deposit box and be on his way to a new life。 Perhaps Rio。 He would lie on the beach all day and fuck beach bunnies at night。
He sipped on his drink and thought about how it would be。 The life he had always wanted was right there within his grasp； so close； within inches。 But he was going to have to be realistic about the monsters； going to have to keep trotting。 No urine…soaked pajamas。 No screaming fits。 Amen。
He paid the tab and left two quarters on the bar。 Outside he forced himself to pause and examine the headlines on the newspaper in the vending stand。 Same old crap。 The world was still turning； things were burning down； trains were still crashing。。。
He walked the two blocks home with his head up； breathing the spring air。 It seemed just yesterday that it was so cold and miserable。 Spring is here。 And I've got a fortune in the bank and no one knows but me。
His neighbor was washing his car in the driveway。 〃Hey； Terry； how's it going？〃
〃Pretty good。 And you？〃
〃Just fine。 Say； I've been meaning to ask you。 How's the spy business？〃
Terry Franklin froze。
The asshole tossed his sponge into a bucket and wiped his hands on his jeans。 He grinned as he reached for his cigarettes。 〃Lucy has been telling Melanie that you're a spy。 I laughed myself sick。 So。。。〃
Terry didn't hear any more。 He lurched for the front door。
〃Lucy！〃 He slammed the door behind him and charged for the kitchen。 〃Lucy；〃 he bellowed； 〃you stupid…〃
Lucy was sitting with her mother drinking coffee at the counter。
Both women stared； openmouthed…
〃What…what does Jared mean…about Melanie？ What did you tell Melanie？〃 He thought he was doing pretty welt under the circumstances； staying calm and keeping the legs going。 But it came out as a roar。
〃Now listen here； Terry…〃 Lucy's mom began。
〃Lucy； I need to talk to you。〃 He grabbed her arm and half lifted her from the stool。 〃Now； Lucy。〃
〃Let go of her； Terry！〃
〃Mom Southworth； please！ I need to talk to…〃
〃No！〃 The old lady had a voice like a drill instructor。
〃Lucy； what did you tell that moron Melanie？〃
〃I told her that…〃
〃Get your hands off her； Terry。 I know all about you。 You stupid； greedy…〃 The older woman was fat； with two chins。 Just now Terry Franklin thought her the ugliest woman he had ever laid eyes on。
〃Shut up； you nosy old bitch！ What the hell are you doing here anyway？ Lucy； I want to talk to you。〃 He grabbed her arm and dragged her from the stool toward the downstairs half…bath。 He pulled her inside and slammed the door。 〃What in the name of God have you been saying to Melanie？〃
Lucy was scared witless。 〃Noth…〃
〃Did you tell her I was a spy？〃
Terry didn't need an answer； it was written all over her face。 The mother…in…law was pounding on the door and shouting。 Something about calling the police。
〃You…you…〃 he whimpered as his legs turned to wood and the monster's fetid breath engulfed him。
Lucy opened the door and slid out as he sagged down onto the floor and covered his face with his hands。 His whole life was shattered； smashed to bits by that silly； simple twit！
It was 8：30 P。M。 when Luis Camacho parked in front of Mrs。 Jackson's house and locked his car。 It was a delightful spring evening； still a nip in the air； but almost no wind。 The foliage was budding。 Summer was ing and