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macho fiddling with his wiper control and wishing he had taken the intermittent wiper option。
Following the ribbon of interstate highways； Smoke Judy circled Baltimore and headed north toward York。 Just short of the Pennsylvania line he began to slow in the left lane。 Dreyfus was in the car immediately behind and used the radio to call the trailing car； which was three miles back。 When Judy swung through an emergency vehicle turnaround and accelerated south； the trailing car was already southbound at fifty miles per hour； waiting for Judy to catch up。 Dreyfus and the drivers of the other car waited until Judy was pletely out of sight before they gunned across the median throwing mud and turf and resumed the pursuit。 One of the cars almost got stuck。
〃He thinks he's being cute；〃 Dreyfus told Camacho； who took the first exit he came to and crossed over the highway； then sat at the head of the on…ramp to wait。
〃Think he's spotted you？〃
〃I don't…we'll see。 He'll go straight home if he has。〃
Smoke Judy didn't go home。 He went to the inner harbor of Baltimore and parked in an outlying lot； then walked unhurriedly past the aquarium and the head of the pier where the three…masted frigate Constellation was berthed and sat in front of the giant indoor food mall； near the water。 He sat for almost twenty minutes watching the gulls and people as a gentle wind blew in from the bay。
Camacho and Dreyfus watched him through one…way glass mounted in the side of a Potomac Power van parked on a yellow line near the frigate pier。 From the outside of the van the glass appeared to be a sign unless one inspected it from close range。 A man wearing jeans and a tool belt had rigged yellow ropes around the vehicle as soon as it came to a stop to ensure that no one got that close。
The distance from the van to where Judy sat was a little over a hundred yards。 Camacho aimed a small television camera mounted on a pedestal while Dreyfus snapped photos with a 35mm camera with a telephoto lens。 Beside them an agent wearing earphones huddled over a cassette recorder。 A parabolic microphone on top of the van was slaved to the video camera； but right now the audio was a background murmur； like the background noise of a baseball radio broadcast。
〃He isn't saying anything；〃 Camacho muttered to reassure the audio technician。
〃I'll bet he goes inside；〃 Dreyfus said。
〃More than likely。 Too chilly to sit outside for long。〃
〃He's looked at his watch twice。〃
Camacho turned the pedestal camera over to the second technician and helped himself to coffee from a thermos。 〃Appreciate you guys ing out this morning。〃
〃Sure。〃
As he sipped his coffee； Camacho glanced at his watch。 11：47。 The meet was probably scheduled for twelve o'clock。 Albright？ If not； then who？
〃Have we got the camera and audio units inside？〃
〃Yes； sir。 The guys are already in the food court。〃
Camacho took another large swig of coffee； then tapped the man at the camera on the shoulder。 He moved aside。 The camera had a powerful zoom。 Camacho could see the expression on Judy's face。 He looked like a tourist until you studied his face…alert； ready； in absolute control。
The agent backed off a tad on the zoom and scanned the camera。 The crowd was large； lots of families and young couples。 With the earpiece in his left ear he picked up snatches of conversation as the camera moved along。 Feeling a bit like a voyeur； he aimed the camera at a stream of people ing from the dark interior of the huge； green…glass building into the light。 A stringy youth in a black Harley shirt held hands with a vacant…eyed girl with large； unrestrained breasts and a slack jaw。 Adenoids？ 〃。。。that AIDS is bad shit。 Had a hell of a time shaking it last time。〃
A tight…faced gray…haired woman spoke to her male panion in a polished whine： 〃。。。too far to walk。 My feet hurt and it's been just a terrible。。。〃 Camacho moved on； sampling the faces and polyglot sounds。
〃I'm not hooked； I tell you。 I just like the rush。。。〃 In her mid…thirties； she wore a one…piece designer outfit and a wind…blown coiffure and was speaking to a man in gray slacks and camel…colored cardigan who was chewing on his lower lip。 Not wishing to hear more； Luis Camacho swung the camera away。
〃He's moving；〃 Dreyfus said。 〃Toward the door。 He's looking at someone。 Do you see him？〃
Camacho searched for the door to the mall and saw only backs。 He waited。 The light was fading noticeably now as a dark cloud choked off the sunlight。 In a few seconds Smoke Judy entered his range of vision from the left and joined the crowd streaming into the interior gloom。 Camacho released the camera and rubbed his eyes。
Dreyfus was on the radio； talking to the watchers inside。 〃Here he es；〃 one of them said； and launched into a running mentary on Judy's direction of travel for the benefit of his rades stationed throughout the building。
〃I'm going inside；〃 Camacho said。 Judy had never met him； so that wasn't a concern。 Depending on who it was； Judy's contact might recognize him； but even so he wanted to see…see now； with his own eyes…the person Smoke Judy did not want to be seen with。 He would try to stay out of sight。 Just in case。
A spatter of drops came in at an angle； driven by the strong breeze； as Luis Camacho walked across the head of the quay。 A solid curtain of rain over the water moved rapidly this way。 The crowd around two jugglers on unicycles dissolved as people began to run。 The FBI agent reached the double doors and hurried through just as the deluge struck。 A crowd was gathering by the exit； looking out and chattering nervously； but audible above the babble was the drumming of the rain on the glass windows of the building。
Camacho put the earpiece on his radio in place and rearranged his cap。 The radio itself was in an interior jacket pocket。 The microphone was pinned inside his lapel： he merely had to key the transmit switch and talk。
A voice on the radio reported that Judy was upstairs； on the second floor； wandering from booth to booth。 That meant the person he had e to meet was still unknown； still moving through the crowd looking for watchers。 Camacho stood near the door and looked at faces； an ocean of faces of all ages and colors and sizes。 Could one of them be the Minotaur？ No chance。 The Minotaur was too careful； too circumspect。 This wasn't his kind of risk。 He didn't need men like Smoke Judy for his treason。 Or did he？
〃He's in line at the taco joint。〃
Camacho was tempted to move。 Not yet！ Not yet！
〃There's a man behind the subject； Caucasian male about fifty…five； five feet nine or so； about a hundred ninety pounds； wearing dark slacks。 Hush Puppies and a faded blue windbreaker。 No hat。 Balding。〃
Camacho shifted his weight and examined the people on the stairs。 Families。 Youngsters。 Five black teenage boys with red ball caps and scarves。 No one was looking at him。
〃Guy in the windbreaker said something to the subject。〃
〃Get pictures。〃 That was Dreyfus in the van。
〃Camera's rolling。〃 The lawyers at Justice loved these portable video cameras with automatic focus and light…level adjustment。 Jurors raised in the television age thought prosecutors should have a movie of every ten…do