按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
〃Why？〃 Her lower lip began to quiver and her brows knitted。 Callie thought Amy looked so cute and helpless when she clouded up。 Jake thought Callie had a lot to learn。
〃Because I said so。〃 Jake picked up the newspaper； opened it ostentatiously and hid behind it。
Callie got up and went to the sink； rinsing dishes。 Jake reached around the paper every so often for a sip of coffee。 Their second meal with their new daughter。 Another disaster。
The youngster was trying to establish who's in charge； Jake told his wife。 He thought Callie was making the same mistake Neville Chamberlain did。 He used precisely those words to the new mother last night； after the first； opening…day debacle at the dinner table； when the youngster was finally in bed； and had been told in no uncertain terms that he was a lout。
Lout or not； 〃I am wearing the trousers；〃 he said with his right trigger finger pointed straight up； 〃and we are going to establish very early that I have the last say on junior…senior relations around here。 Somebody has to be in charge and it's not going to be an eleven…year…old。〃
〃Just because you wear trousers； huh？〃
〃No。 Because when I was growing up my father was the head of his family； and I intend to be the head of mine。 It's a tried and true system with ancient tradition to mend it。 We're going to stick with it。〃
〃You can't issue orders around here； Captain Grafton。 Amy and I don't wear uniforms。〃 She raised a finger； mimicking his gesture。
This evening was also off to a rocky start。
Jake put down his newspaper and examined the vegetable situation。 The child apparently hadn't touched a pea or a carrot。 She was staring fixedly at her plate with a sullen； defiant look。
〃How was school today？〃 Jake asked。
No answer。
〃I asked you a question； Amy。〃
〃Okay。〃
〃Tell me about your teachers。〃
〃What do you want to know？〃
〃Their names； what subjects they teach； what they look tike； whether you like them。 That kind of stuff。〃
〃Wellll；〃 Amy said； her gaze flicking across Jake's face； 〃some of them are nice and some aren't。〃 And away she went on a five…minute exposition that covered the school day from opening to closing bell。 Jake tossed in an occasional question when she paused for air。
When she had exhausted the teacher subject； Jake asked； 〃What subjects do you think you're going to like best？〃
Away she went again； debating the merits of math versus English； social studies versus science。 This…time when she ran down； Jake asked if she had any homework。
〃Some math problems。〃
〃Need any help with them？〃
〃The division ones；〃 she said tentatively。
〃Eat some of those peas and carrots and we'll clear the table and work on the problems。〃
〃How many do I have to eat？〃
〃Two spoonfuls of each。〃
She made a face and did as she was bid。 As he carried the dishes to the sink； Jake asked； 〃Just what vegetables do you like？〃
〃Not any of them。〃
〃Well； do you have some that you don't hate as much as others？〃
〃Corn。 Corn is okay。 But not the creamed kind。〃 She squirmed。 〃And I like lima beans。〃
〃No kidding？ So do I。 Maybe we can have some tomorrow night。 How about it； Callie？〃 His wife was standing by the little desk that served as a paper catchall； looking once again at the diet book。 She turned to Jake and nodded。 She had tears in her eyes。 He winked at her。
〃Amy； better get your school books。 And； Callie； don't we have some sugarless dessert around here for little girls who eat their dinner？〃
17
A woman from the garage called at 10 A。M。 and said his car was ready： 119。26。 Camacho told her he would stop by after work。 She hung up before he could even ask what the problem had been。
Dreyfus gave him a ride and dropped him in front of the showroom。
The new cars gleamed shamelessly and flashed their chrome with wanton abandon as he walked by。 Light； easy…listening music sounded everywhere。 Two salesmen asked if he needed help。
He paid for the repairs at a window where a harried young woman juggled two phones as she pounded numbers into a puter。 He surrendered his driver's license for her scrutiny before she asked。 Without even glancing to see if his pass matched the photo； she copied the number onto the check and slid it back at him。
His six…year…old car sat amid twenty or so others of its vintage on a gravel lot out back。 Dingy and coated with road grime； it hadn't seen wax since。。。 not since he gave his son twenty dollars that Saturday two years ago and the kid let the wax dry like paint all over the car before he tried to wipe it off。
Camacho unlocked the door； rolled down the windows and tossed the yellow card dangling from the rearview…mirror bracket onto the floor。 The car started readily enough and ran sweetly。 He examined the invoice。 Diagnostic test。 Defective spark plug。 Defective lead cable？ Ouch…they got him there！ Labor。 How is it a garage can charge 55 per hour for a mechanic's time？
About two miles from the garage was a shopping center with a large parking lot； most of which was empty except for light poles and a couple of cars that looked as if they had sat in those spots all winter。 One even had two flat tires。
He parked near it and got his jack from the trunk。 The rear end went up first。 He had an old army blanket in the trunk and spread it under the car so he wouldn't get too filthy。
With coat and tie on the back seat； flashlight in hand； Luis Camacho slid gingerly under the car。 He knew exactly what he was looking for； but it might be hard to spot。
Five minutes later he stood beside the car and scratched his head。 If Albright had put a bomb in this thing； where was it？
After a thorough scrutiny of the engine partment and the trunk cavity； he attacked the door panels and rockers with a Phillips…head screwdriver。 How many possible places were there？ The backseats？ Could he get them loose and look under them？ The odds of a bomb being there were small； of course； but there was a chance。 Just how big a chance； Camacho didn't know。 Peter Aleksandrovich Chistyakov was not a man to take unnecessary risks。 That double…agent discussion yesterday had frightened Camacho； ing as it did from a man who owned an assassin's pistol and had enough gadgets in his attic to blow up half the cops in Washington。
To assess just how likely it was that good ol' Harlan Albright had decided to eliminate a possible threat； one would need to know just what it was that was being threatened。 How many other agents was he running？ What kind of information were they getting？
Of course； Albright could slip a bomb under the car any night while Camacho snored in his own bed。 Risky； but feasible。 But perhaps he had planted a bomb with a radio…actuated device as insurance； hoping he wouldn't have to use it； but with it already in place should the need arise。 A careful man might do something like that； right？
Apparently Albright was a careful man。 The bomb was in the driver's door； behind the panel； below the window glass when it was rolled pletely down。 It had been carefully taped in place so it wouldn't rattle。
At a glance it appeared to contain a couple pounds of plastique。 One fuse stuck out of the oblong mass。 A wire ran from the fuse