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t three days initiating her into the mysteries of the A…6。 Beside Toad sat the bombardier who had been coaching him； ol' Henry Jenks。 Both these mental giants were hanging on every word from Moravia's gorgeous lips。 There she sat； smiling and joking and behaving like a real live normal woman…type female； as she never did around him； damn her！ And these two attack weenies were eating it with a spoon！
The pilot； Toad decided； had a rather high opinion of himself。 He looked and acted like a lifelong miser who has just decided to spend a quarter on a piece of pussy that he knows will be worth two dollars。 His smile widened every time Moravia glanced into his little pig eyes。 If he wasn't careful his face would crack。
This BN； Jenks； wasn't any better。 He obviously hadn't had a good piece of ass since his junior year of high school。 Jenks was telling a funny to the pilot as he watched Rita's reaction out of the corner of his eyes。 〃Do you know a fighter puke's definition of foreplay？〃 After the obligatory negative from his listeners； Jenks continued。 〃Six hours of begging。〃 Rita joined in the ha…ha…has。
Watching these two cheap masturbators in action was a thirsty business。 The waitress caught Toad's hi sign and came over。 〃Four double tequilas； neat。〃 Toad said； and looked around to see if there were any other orders。 The attack weenies were still drooling down Moravia's cleavage as she told an anecdote about something or other。 〃That's it；〃 he told the waitress； who regarded him incredulously。
〃Four？〃 she asked。
〃Yeah。〃
She shrugged and turned away。
The club was still crowded with the remnants of the Friday…night Happy Hour gang。 The married guys had left some time back and a bunch of reservists were drifting in。 Altogether forty or fifty people； ten or twelve of them women； three of whom were still in uniform。 Canned rock music blared from loudspeakers that Toad didn't see。 Only one couple was dancing。
When the waitress brought the drinks she sat them in the center of the table。 Jenks looked at the drinks with raised eyebrows。 〃I'll have another beer；〃 he said。 〃Terrier with a twist；〃 Moravia chirped。 〃Diet Coke；〃 intoned the lecher beside her。
Toad drank one of the tequilas in two gulps。 The liquor burned all the way down。 Ah baby！
Another song started on the loudspeakers； a fast number。 Toad tossed off a second drink； then climbed up on he chair。 He straightened and filled his lungs with air。 〃Hey； fat girl；〃 he roared。
Every eye in the place turned his way。 Toad picked the nearest female and leaped toward her with a shout； 〃Let's dance！〃 Behind him his chair flew over with a crash。
And oh； that woman could dance。
7
The bedroom lights were on in the second story of the town house when Terry Franklin parked the car。 He turned off the ignition and headlights and sat behind the wheel； trying to think。
He had driven around for an hour and a half after his panicked departure from the drop； craning to spot the agents he felt sure were tailing him。 At one point he had pulled over and looked at the damage to the front of his car。 The left front headlight was smashed and the bumper bent from smacking into that car when he tried to get out of that parking space too quickly。
A dozen times he thought he spotted a tail； but the trailing vehicle usually went its own way at the next corner or the one after。 A blue Ford with Pennsylvania plates followed along for half a mile until he could stand it no longer and ran a red light。 His panicky wanderings back and forth through the avenues and traffic circles of downtown Washington seemed like something from a drug…induced nightmare； a horrible descent into a paranoid hell of traffic and stoplights and police cars that refused to chase him。
Franklin sat now behind the wheel smelling his own foul body odor。 His clothes were sodden with sweat。
Lucy and the kids were home。 He tried to e up with a lie for Lucy as he scanned the street for mysterious watchers and people sitting in cars。
How long could he live like this？ Should he take the money he had and run？ Where could he run with the FBI and CIA looking for him？ He didn't have enough money to evade them forever。 Should he go to Russia？ The very thought nauseated him。 Freezing in some gray workers' paradise for the rest of his days was about as far from the good life as a man could get this side of the grave。
He wasn't feeling well and went to the dispensary； that was what he would tell Lucy。 God knows he must look like he was in the terminal stages of AIDS。 No good。 No prescription。 A beer。 Yeah； he went out for a beer。 He got out of the car wishing he had really stopped for one。 After another look at the broken headlight and grille； he plodded toward the front door。
She came out of the kitchen when she heard the door open。 〃Where have you been？〃 She stood rigid； her face pale。
Uh…oh。 He kept his voice calm。 〃Hey； babe。 I went out for a beer。 Did you all get anything at the mall？〃
〃I know where you've been。 Cindy across the street has told me all about your little expeditions when I'm out for the evening。 I know all about you； you son of a bitch。〃
He stared； thunderstruck。 This isn't happening。 No； not to me。 For the love of… 〃How？〃
〃Who is she？ I want to know。 Who is she？〃
〃Who is who？〃
〃Who is the goddamn bitch you're tomcatting around with； you son of a fucking bitch。 Who is she？〃
At last he understood。 As the relief washed over him he was suddenly too weak to stand。 He sank into a chair。 〃Lucy； there's no other wo…〃
〃Don't give me that shit！ I know！ Cindy told me！〃 She was a quivering； shouting pillar of hysterical righteousness。 〃You're cheating on me。〃 Tears were flowing now。 〃Oh God。 I tried so hard。。。〃
〃Lucy； calm down。 Please； for the love of… The kids will hear。 Honest to God； there's no other woman。〃 He got to his feet and approached her。 〃Babe； I love you。 There's nobody…〃
〃Don't you touch me； liar。 I'm getting a divorce。〃 She spun and made for the stairs。 〃I'm locking the bedroom door。 If you try to get in； I'll call the police。 Liar。 Cheat bastard。〃
He lost it。 It had been that kind of evening； 〃You crazy cunt；〃 he roared。 〃You don't know shit。 I went down to the corner for a goddamn beer and when I get home you're fucking loony crazy。 I haven't cheated on you！ I haven't fucked another woman since that night I knocked you up at the drive…in。 You don't have any goddamn evidence at all； you crazy lunatic。〃
He heard the bedroom door slam and the kids sobbing。 He threw himself onto the living…room couch。 Some days…it's absolutely crazy how some days just go bug…fuck nuts。 You almost get arrested； smash up the front of the car； your wife demands a divorce because you're cheating on her when you're not。 What else？ What else can fucking happen before midnight？
The drop was empty。 He stretched out on the couch and contemplated that fact。 He closed his eyes and tried to relax。 He could hear Lucy putting the kids to bed upstairs。 Finally the noises stopped。
He would have to call them。 In Miami they had given him an emergency telephone number that he had memorized and a verification code。 He would call。 He looked around for the evening paper。 On top of the TV。 He flipped to the sports section。 The code was simple； the location and opponent in the next scheduled game of the Bullets； Orioles or Redskins； whichever was in season。 They had been insistent； he was never to call except in an emergency and then only from a pay phone。 Well； this was sure as hell an emergency。 But he wasn't going back out onto those streets tonight； no way。 Even if he could work up the courage； Lucy would use a butcher knife on his crotch when he got back。
He went into the kitchen and dialed the phone。 On the third ring a man's voice answered with a recitation of the telephone number。 The voice was tired； the English perfect。 〃Six…six…five； oh…one…oh…five。〃
〃This is Poor Richard。〃 He had picked his code name himself。 Easier for him to remember； they said。 〃It wasn't there。 It wasn't at the dr…〃
〃Verify please。〃 The voice was hard； exasperated。
〃The Bullets play the Celtics tomorrow night at Capital Centre。〃
〃I'll call you back。 Where are you？〃
〃Seven…two…nine； seven…four…oh…one。〃
〃You're at home？〃 The voice was incredulous； outraged。
〃Yeah； I…〃 He stopped when he realized he was talking to a dead instrument。
Shit。 He would have to call again。 He had to find out what the hell was going on。 A pay phone。 Lucy was going to e sweet…Jesus holy…hell screaming unglued。 What a night！ He picked up his jacket and eased the front door shut behind him。
From her seat on the top of the stairs； Lucy heard the door close。 She had started to e down earlier but stopped when she heard him enter the kitchen and pick up the phone。 She had heard his side of the conversation and she sat now trying to figure it out。 〃Poor Richard〃 he had called himself。 It wasn't there。 The Bullets play the Celtics？ A code of some sort？
What is he into？ she asked herself； her horror growing。 He had looked so stunned when she said she knew。 That look was the verification she needed that he was cheating on her。 But how did that fit with a code and nonsense sentences？ Was he placing bets with a bookie？ No； he wasn't spending money she didn't know about。 Something to do with his job at the Pentagon？ Could he be spying； like those Walkers several years ago？ No； that wasn't possible。 Or was it？ He would do it if he could get away with it； she decided。 In their eleven years of marriage she had found him a man who always put himself first。
What else could it be？ My God； what other possibilities were there？
The sun was still embedded in the gray scud over the ocean on Saturday morning when Jake and Callie walked through the gap in the low dune on their way to the beach。 Callie trailed along behind him on the narrow path； her hands tucked into the pockets of her windbreaker。
He strolled as he always did； his eyes moving restlessly across the sky and the sea and the naked sand and ing to rest often on her。 Whenever she was with him she drew his eyes。 It had been that way since they first met； one of the little unconscious things he did that told her without words what she meant to him。 This morning walking beside him she was acutely aware of his glances。
〃How did your little interview with the soul stripper go yesterday？〃
〃He says I have to e to grips with your decision to ram that transport in the Med last fall。〃
Jake stopped and turned to face her。 He looked bewildered。 〃What the hell are you worrying about that for？〃
〃For a week I was a widow。〃
He turned away and looked out to sea。 It was a moment before he spoke。 〃You may be again someday。〃 He faced her。 〃Women live longer than men these days。 I don't have a crystal ball； Callie。 Jesus； we can't stop living because we're mortal。〃 He gestured angrily。 〃I may get hit by a meteor ten seconds from now。 I may get run over by some drunk when I step off the curb at…〃
He stopped because she was walking away from him； along the beach； her arms wrapped around her cheat。
He hurried after her。 〃Hey…〃
〃For a whole week you were dead！ You had killed yourself chasing those damned Arabs and I was left here all alone！〃 He put his hand on her arm and she jerked away； whirling to face him。 〃You knew how much I loved you and。。。 and。。。 when they called and said you were alive； the memorial service was scheduled for the next morning。 I was going to bury you。 You were dead！〃 He enveloped her in his arms and she pressed her face against his shoulder。
After a while she stopped trembling and he murmured； 〃Still love me？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃A little bit or a whole lot？〃
〃I haven't decided。〃
With his arm around her shoulder； he started them walking north again。 In a moment he paused and kissed her； then they resumed their journey with their arms locked together。
Something white。 Whatever it was that blocked Toad's gaze； it was white。 He closed his eyes and the pain and nausea washed over him； enveloping him。 Ye gods。。。 Something hard and cold against his cheek…he opened his eyes again…and white。 Lotta light。。。 He moved。 Shit！ He was lying in a fucking bathtub。
He raised himself slowly。 His head felt like it was ing off。 He