Steal The Sun(战争间谍)-第2部分

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shouting；　sweating；　shoving　men　gathered　around　a　shallow　pit。　Two　Yaqui　Indians　crouched
there；　coarse　hair　bound　back　by　scarlet　bandanas。　Each　man　hissed　and　grunted　ritually；
arousing　the　fighting　cock　he　held　in　his　scarred　hands。
One　man　stood　apart；　overseeing　the　crowd；　the　cocks；　and　the　collecting　of　bets。　If　the　chaotic
battles　of　the　Green　Parrot　had　a　generalissimo；　it　was　Refugio　Reyes　y　Rincón。　He　was　big；
muscular；　and　had　thick；　oddly　graceful　eyebrows。　Beneath　a　veneer　of　smiling　indulgence；　his
power　bulged　as　surely　as　muscle　beneath　fat。　At　his　signal；　the　handlers　redoubled　their　efforts
over　the　birds。
The　two　cocks　ignored　the　yelling　crowd；　the　hisses　and　grip　of　their　handlers。　The　cocks　were
fixed　on　one　another；　trading　glares　with　obsidian　eyes；　flaring　their　gaudy　feather　ruffs。　Their
steel…tipped　spurs　promised　death。
The　handlers　hoisted　the　cocks　up　high；　further　enraging　the　birds。　The　crowd　howled。　Bets　were
made　in　many　languages　and　laid　in　many　currencies　in　the　instants　before　the　cocks　were
released。　No　one　noticed　as　Finn　moved　through　the　fringes　of　the　crowd。　No　one　but　the　cook
looked　up　when　Finn　sat　at　an　empty　table　near　a　charcoal　grill。
The　square　Indio　woman　bent　over　her　grill；　poked　a　sizzling　chunk　of　meat；　and　settled　back
again　on　her　heels。　Her　black　eyes　were　hooded　and　blank。　She　stared　beyond　Finn；　where
bettors　seethed　around　the　deadly　cocks。　After　a　time　she　turned　back　to　her　cooking。
Finn　relaxed　and　tipped　his　chair　until　it　leaned　against　the　wall。　If　he　had　been　followed；　the
cook　would　have　signaled　him。　He　was　free　to　concentrate　on　one　of　his　many　enemies；　the
broad…shouldered　Mexican　who　ran　the　cockfight　as　ruthlessly　as　he　ran　his　network　of　whores；
thieves　and　smugglers。
It　was　not　Rufugio’s　ordinary　criminal　pursuits　that　interested　Finn；　however；　it　was　the　man’s
extensive　connections　with　Mexico’s　Oriental　communities　–　particularly　the　Japanese。　In
peacetime；　Refugio　and　Takagura　Omi　had　run　the　most　successful　smuggling　operation　in
northern　Mexico；　using　Takagura’s　high　Japanese　connections　to　import　legal　and　illegal　goods；
and　Rufugio’s　low　Mexican　connections　to　distribute　the　goods　from　Culiacan　to　San　Francisco。
War　had　changed　the　nature　of　the　smuggling　trade。　Information；　not　opium；　brought　the
highest　prices。　If　a　secret　could　be　bought；　Refugio　had　it　to　sell。
The　handlers　lowered　the　birds；　then　raised　them　high　again。　The　sounds　of　the　crowd
overwhelmed　the　cocks’　screeches。
“Begin！”　shouted　Refugio。
Scarred　hands　threw　the　birds　high。　They　slashed　at　each　other　with　spurs　of　steel。
Partially　screened　by　a　low　adobe　wall　that　divided　him　from　the　mainstream　of　the　cantina’s
activities；　Finn　searched　the　tables　for　a　new　face；　a　man　called　Masarek；　who　was　an　assassin
sent　by　the　Russian　NKVD。　Finn　had　been　especially　wary　of　the　Russians　since　the　night　he　had
followed　a　team　of　NKVD　saboteurs　from　Juarez　to　a　point　just　below　Los　Alamos。　When
there　could　be　no　doubt　of　their　destination；　Finn　struck。　He　hid　their　bodies　beneath　a　thin
blanket　of　sand　and　left　as　quietly　as　he　had　come。　By　dawn　he　was　back　in　Juarez；　waiting　for　the
replacements　that　the　Russians　were　sure　to　send。
In　time；　Masarek　had　appeared。
Finn’s　own　network　of　whores；　informants　and　spies　had　told　him　that　Masarek　had　been　seen
with　Refugio；　heading　north　of　the　American　border。　Apparently　their　attempt　on　Los　Alamos
had　been　fruitless；　for　they　had　returned　very　quickly。　The　same　informant　had　told　Finn　that　this
evening；　Refugio　was　to　meet　with　a　newly　arrived；　very　important　foreigner　in　the　Green
Parrot。　As　Masarek　was　the　only　important　foreigner　to　arrive　recently　in　Juarez；　Finn　assumed
that　he　was　the　one　who　would　meet　Refugio　tonight。　He　assumed；　but　he　was　not　certain。　He
would　not　be　certain　until　he　saw　Masarek　here；　tonight。
None　of　the　people　Finn　saw　matched　his　description　of　Masarek。　Mexicans；　Europeans　and
Orientals　occupied　the　cantina’s　rough　tables。　Among　them　circulated　Refugio’s　whores；
including　his　favorite；　Rubia。　She　was　limber；　blond；　and　perhaps　fourteen。　Despite　her　dyed
hair；　Rubia　was　unusally　pretty。　She　moved　from　table　to　table；　dispensing　drinks　and　sexual
invitation　with　equal　ease。
The　crowd　around　the　cockfight　humped　up　suddenly　and　roared　like　a　breaking　wave。　Finn
knew　without　looking　that　one　cock　had　been　wounded。　The　birds　varied　from　fight　to　fight；　but
the　crowd’s　bay　at　first　blood　was　always　the　same。　The　fight　itself　promised　to　be　special；
though；　one　of　the　birds　was　Refugio’s　favorite；　a　scarred　survivor　of　many　battles。
People　screamed　prayers　and　imprecations　in　most　of　the　civilized　languages　of　man。　Bets　flew
among　the　feathers　as　the　cocks　ripped　each　other　with　bloody　spurs。　Sweating；　Refugio　waved　a
fistful　of　money；　boasting　and　betting　on　the　red　cock’s　prowess。　The　crowd　heaved　and
re…formed；　blocking　Finn’s　view　of　Refugio。
The　Indio　woman’s　hiss　slid　between　the　shrill　sounds　of　the　cantina。　Without　looking　at　her；
Finn　glanced　to　his　right。　Several　American　servicemen　were　wandering　toward　him；　obviously
looking　for　a　table。
“Mind　if　we　sit　with　you？”　asked　one　of　the　men。
“Yes；”　said　Finn。
“Friendly　type；　huh。”
“No。”

“Are　you　an　American？”　demanded　the　man。
“Sometimes；”　said　Finn；　completing　the　recognition　sequence。
With　a　sound　of　disgust；　the　man　herded　his　friends　back　into　the　cantina’s　mainstream。　They
wedged　themselves　along　the　bar　and　prepared　to　wait　for　a　vacant　table。
Finn　did　not　look　at　them　again。　His　mind　was　ticking　off　seconds　with　the　precision　of　a
stopwatch。　When　the　count　reached　three　hundred；　he　finished　his　beer；　tipped　the　cook
generously；　and　prepared　to　leave　the　Green　Parrot　as　inconspicuously　as　he　had　arrived。
As　he　stood　up；　the　crowd　around　the　pit　shrieked　and　moaned。　The　cockfight　was　approaching
its　climax。　The　birds　leaped　and　raked　over　each　other；　steel　spurs　ripping　out　feathers　and
blood。　He　watched；　realizing　that　the　red　cock　had　finally　met　his　equal。　The　fighters　were　well
matched。　Too　well　matched。　Like　the　German　army　at　Stalingrad　and　the　U。S。　Marines　on
Japanese…held　islands；　the　only　winner　was　death。
The　screams　changed　in　pitch。　One　cock　was　down；　disemboweled；　its　black…and…white　feathers
sprayed　with　blood。　The　red　cock　began　to　crow　triumphantly；　then　reeled　sideways　as　its　blood
pumped　out　of　a　slashed　artery。　Both　cocks　thrashed　about　in　the　dusty　pit　while　Refugio　yelled
for　his　favorite　to　stand　up　and　be　proven　the　winner。
Both　cocks　died；　steel　spurs　raking　the　dust。　Vicious　arguments　started　over　which　cock　had
died　first。
Refugio　shouldered　into　the　pit；　swearing　at　the　bettors　and　handlers　alike。　At　his　command；　the
Yaquis　held　the　cocks　aloft　for　his　inspection。　Guts　slid　down　dusty　arms；　trailing　ribbons　of
blood。　He　prodded　the　big　red　bird　while　men　shouted　at　him；　shrill　as　roosters。　The　crowded
fragmented　into　fist…　and　knife…fights。
As　Finn　watched；　three　men　clubbed　their　way　to　Refugio’s　side。　He　did　not　need　his
bodyguards　to　restore　order；　though。　His　own　fists　and　boots　were　enough。　Men　went　down
around　him；　and　stayed　down。　Soon　there　was　no　one　left　fighting。　He　shouted　over　the　angry
bettors；　pointing　out　that　the　spotted　cock　had　gone　down　first　and　stayed　down　until　it　died。
Men　yelled　back；　saying　that　Refugio’s　red　cock　had　died　first。　Refugio　began　reciting　the
superior　points　of　the　red　cock。
Finn　eased　through　the　cantina；　listening　to　the　Mexican’s　harangue　on　behalf　of　his　favorite
cock。　Several　thousand　dollars　were　at　stake；　but　it　was　pride　as　much　as　money　that　goaded
Refugio；　a　man　whose　pride　was　legend。
Suddenly；　Refugio’s　voice　dropped。　Finn　turned　back；　wondering　what　had　happened　to　silence
the　arrogant　smuggler。　One　of　Refugio’s　bodyguards　stood　close　to　him；　talking　quietly；
gesturing　with　a　sawed…off　shotgun。　Refugio’s　eyebrows　swept　together　in　a　thick　frown。　He
turned　to　the　Yaquis　who　stood　impassively；　death　dangling　from　their　hands。　At　his　curt　gesture
they　lowered　the　limp　birds。　While　he　spoke；　the　handlers　reached　into　covered　baskets；　pulled
out　two　fresh　cocks　and　fastened　on　sets　of　razor　spurs。
“A　tie！”　shouted　Refugio；　glaring　at　the　crowd。　Men　groaned　and　cursed。　Refugio　shoved
through　them　shouting；　“A　tie！　No　bets　won　or　lost　on　a　tie！”
The　two　new　cocks　saw　each　other　and　screamed　challenges。　The　crowd　looked　away　from
Refugio；　focusing　once　more　on　the　cockpit　where　eager；　violent　birds　were　barely　restrained　by
their　handlers。
As　Finn　turned　back　toward　the　side　door；　his　glance　automatically　searched　the　crowd。　He
found　himself　staring　across　the　room　into　slanted　Japanese　eyes。　Without　seeming　to；　Finn
memorized　the　man　as　he　did　all　strangers；　trying　to　judge　height　and　age　and　weight；　looking
for　distinguishing　marks。　There　was　nothing。　The　Japanese　was　dressed　neither　well　nor　badly；
his　posture　was　neither　timid　nor　aggressive；　his　hair　neither　too　short　nor　too　long；　his　clothes
neither　too　new　nor　too　old。　He　appeared　as　unremarkable　as　Finn　himself　–　except　for　Rubia；
Refugio’s　premiere　whore；　clinging　to　the　man’s　arm。　And　then　Refugio　himself　appeared　at　the
Japanese　man’s　side；　smiling　expansively　as　he　greeted　the　stranger。
Smoothly；　Finn’s　glance　moved　on。　There　was　nothing　to　show　his　intense　interest　in　the
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Japanese。　He　turned　away　and　went　out　the　cantina’s　side　door；　silently　swearing　at　the　necessity
that　pulled　him　away　from　the　cockfight。　In　the　alley　Finn　hurried；　Refugio　and　the　stranger　had
cost　him　forty…three　seconds。
As　he　ergency　rendezvous　point；　he　wondered　what　was　so　hot
that　it　could　not　be　sent　through　regular　channels；　and　so　urgent　that　it　required　making　contact
in　so　public　a　place　as　the　Green　Parrot。　Most　of　all；　he　wondered　about　the　Japanese　man　who
had　been　more　important　to　Refugio　than　his　pride。
Finn　felt　the　first　hot　touch　of　adrenaline　sliding　into　his　veins。　The　same　instincts　that　had　saved
his　life　so　many　times　in　Burma　told　him　that　what　he　had　seen　tonight　was　important。　There　was
a　new　player　in　the　deadly　game　whose　prize　was　a　secret　known　only　in　Los　Alamos。

Juarez
106　Hours　Before　Trinity
Vanessa　Lyons　waited　just　outside　one　of　the　public　phone　booths　in　the　Hotel　Mariscal。　She
glanced　once　at　her　watch；　two　minutes　remained。　The　tension　she　felt　was　not　reflected　by　her
appearance。　Her　face　was　as　smooth　as　her　pastel　linen　suit；　her　expression　as　correct　as　the　hat
that　shielded　her　pale　blond　beauty　from　the　sun。
Self…control　had　been　taught　to　her　by　a　Russian　spy；　a　man　whose　intelligence　was　exceeded
only　by　his　cruelty。　She　had　not　found　his　equal　until　Beria　had　introduced　her　to　Masarek。　They
had　worked　together　very　well；　she　and　Masarek；　combing　the　ruins　of　war。　She　and　Masarek
had　raced　American　agents　to　Peenemunde　after　Germany　fell；　seeking　scientists。
Despite　the　influx　of　German　atomic　physicists　into　Russia；　it　was　America　who　had　won　the
race　to　engineer　an　atomic　bomb。　America；　whose　land　and　people　were　untouched　by　the　war。
America；　who　had　callously　watched　Russians　die　by　the　hundreds　of　thousands　in　Stalingrad；
w