Washh~gton<br >The screen flashed 9， g， 7， 6， 5， 4， 3 o . o ffleu the prc~<br >jector was switched off， and lights came up in recessed<br >sconces along the walls of the private viewing room.<br > The projectionist s vo:ce was thin and metallic over<br >the intercom. "Ready when you are， Mr. Start."<br > T. Darryl Start， sole audience member， pressed the<br >talk button of the commmaication console before him.<br >"Hey， buddy? Tell me something. What are all those<br >numbers in front of a movie for any-way?"<br > "It s called academy leader， sir，" the projectionist<br >answered. "I just spliced it onto the film as a sort of<br >joke."<br > "Joke?"<br > "Yes， sir. I mean o o . considering the nature of the<br >film..， it s sort of furmy to have a commercial leader，<br >don t you think?"<br > "Why funny?"<br > "Welt， I mean..， what vdtB all the complaints about<br >violence in movies and all that."<br > T. Darryl Start grunted and scrubbed his nose with<br >the back of his fist， then he slipped down the pilot-style<br >sunglasses he had pushed up into his cropped hair when<br >the lights first went off.<br > Joke? It damn well better not be a joke， I shit thee<br >not! If anything has gone wrong， my ass will be grass.<br >And if the slightest little thing is wrong， you can bet<br >your danglees that Mr， Diamond and his crew will spot<br >it. Nit-picking bastards! Ever since they took control<br >over Middle East operations of CIA， they seemed to<br >get their cookies by pointing out every little boo-boo，<br > Starr bit off the end of his cigar， spat it onto the<br >carpeted floor， pumped :t in and out of his pursed lips，<br >then lit it from a wooden match he struck with his<br >thumbnail. As Most Senior Field Operative， he had<br >access to Cuban cigars. After all， RHIPo<br > 3<br >