tc.redrabbit-第108章

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　　　〃Think　so？〃
　　　〃Yeah；　something　otherworldly　about　the　guy；　like　he　could　see　things　the　rest　of　us　couldn't；　like　a　priest　or　something。　He　sure　enough　believed　in　munism。　Didn't　apologize　for　it；　either。〃
　　　〃Stalinist？〃　Foley　asked。
　　　〃No；　but　thirty　years　ago　he　would　have　been。　I　can　see　him　signing　the　order　to　kill　somebody。　Wouldn't　lose　any　sleep　over　it…not　our　Mishka。〃
　　　〃Who's　going　to　replace　him？〃
　　　〃Not　sure；〃　Prince　admitted。　〃My　contacts　say　they　don't　know。〃
　　　〃I　thought　he　was　tight　with　another　Mike；　that　Alexandrov　guy；〃　Foley　offered；　wondering　if　Prince's　contacts　were　as　good　as　he　thought　they　were。　Fucking　with　Western　reporters　was　a　game　for　the　Soviet　leadership。　It　was　different　in　Washington；　where　a　reporter　had　power　to　use　over　politicians。　That　didn't　apply　here。　The　Politburo　members　didn't　fear　reporters　at　all…much　the　reverse；　actually。
　　　Prince's　contacts　weren't　all　that　great：　〃Maybe；　but　I'm　not　sure。　What's　the　talk　here？〃
　　　〃Haven't　been　to　the　lunch　room　yet；　Tony。　Haven't　heard　the　gossip　yet；〃　Foley　parried。　You　don't　really　expect　a　tip　from　me；　do　you？
　　　〃Well；　we'll　know　by　tomorrow　or　day　after。〃
　　　But　it　would　look　good　for　you　if　you　were　the　first　reporter　to　make　the　prediction；　and　you　want　me　to　help　you；　right？　Not　is　this　lifetime；　Foley　thought；　but　then　he　had　to　reconsider。　Prince　would　not　be　a　particularly　valuable　friend；　but　perhaps　a　usable　one；　and　it　never　made　sense　to　make　enemies　for　the　fun　of　it。　On　the　other　hand；　to　be　too　helpful　to　the　guy　might　suggest　either　that　Foley　was　a　spook　or　knew　who　the　spooks　were；　and　Tony　Prince　was　one　of　those　guys　who　liked　to　talk　and　tell　people　how　smart　he　is。。。　No；　it's　better　for　Prince　to　think　I'm　dumb；　because　he'll　tell　everyone　he　knows　how　smart　he　is　and　how　dumb　I　am。
　　　The　best　cover　of　them　all；　he'd　learned　at　The　Farm；　was　to　be　thought　a　dullard；　and　while　it　was　a　little　hurtful　to　his　ego　to　play　that　game；　it　was　helpful　to　the　mission；　and　Ed　Foley　was　a　mission…oriented　guy。　So　。　。　。fuck　Prince　and　what　he　thinks。　I'm　the　guy　in　this　city　who　makes　a　difference。
　　　〃Tell　you　what；　I'll　ask　around…see　what　people　think。〃
　　　〃Fair　enough。〃　Not　that　I　expected　anything　useful　from　you；　Prince　thought　a　little　too　loudly。
　　　He　was　less　skillful　than　he　thought　at　concealing　his　feelings。　He　would　never　be　a　good　poker　player；　the　Chief　of　Station　thought；　seeing　him　out　the　door。　He　checked　his　watch。　Lunchtime。
　　　Like　most　European　stations；　Kiev's　was　a　pale　yellow…just　like　a　lot　of　old　royal　palaces；　in　fact；　as　if　in　the　early　nineteenth　century　there　had　been　a　continent…wide　surplus　of　mustard；　and　some　king　or　other　had　liked　the　color；　and　so　everyone　had　painted　his　palace　that　way。　It　never　happened　in　Britain；　thank　God；　Haydock　thought。　The　ceiling　was　glass　set　in　iron　frames　to　let　the　light　in　but；　as　in　London；　the　glass　was　rarely；　if　ever；　cleaned；　and　was　instead　coated　with　soot　from　long…gone　steam　engines　and　their　coal…fired　boiler　fires。
　　　But　Russians　were　still　Russians。　They　came　to　the　platform　carrying　their　cheap　suitcases；　and　they　were　almost　never　alone；　mostly　in　family　groups；　even　if　only　one　of　them　was　leaving；　so　that　proper　goodbyes　could　be　experienced；　with　passionate　kisses；　male…to…female；　and　male…to…male；　which　always　struck　the　Englishman　as　peculiar。　But　it　was　a　local　custom；　and　all　local　customs　were　peculiar　to　visitors。　The　train　to　Kiev；　Belgrade；　and　Budapest　was　scheduled　to　leave　at　1：00　P。M。　on　the　dot；　and　the　Russian　railroads；　like　the　Moscow　Metro；　kept　to　a　fairly　precise　schedule。
　　　Just　a　few　feet　away；　Paul　Matthews　was　conversing　with　a　representative　of　the　Soviet　state　railway；　talking　about　the　motive　power…it　was　all　electric；　since　rade　Lenin　had　decided　to　bring　electricity　and　eliminate　lice　all　across　the　USSR。　The　former；　strangely；　had　proved　easier　than　the　latter。
　　　The　big　VL80T　lootive；　two　hundred　tons　of　steel；　sat　at　the　head　of　the　train　on　Track　Three；　with　three…day　coaches；　a　dining　car；　and　six　international　class　sleepers；　plus　three　mail　cars　just　behind　the　engine。　On　the　platform　were　the　various　conductors　and　stewards；　looking　rather　surly；　as　Russians　in　service…related　jobs　tended　to　do。
　　　Haydock　was　looking　around；　the　photos　of　the　Rabbit　and　the　Bunny　seared　into　his　memory。　The　station　clock　said　it　was　12：15；　and　that　tallied　with　his　wristwatch。　Would　the　Rabbit　show？　Haydock　usually　preferred　to　be　early　for　a　flight　or　a　train；　perhaps　from　a　fear　of　being　late　left　over　from　his　childhood。　Whatever　the　reason；　he'd　have　been　here　by　now　for　a　one　o'clock　train。　But　not　everyone　thought　that　way；　Nigel　reminded　himself…his　wife；　for　example。　He　was　slightly　afraid　that　she'd　deliver　the　baby　in　their　car　on　the　way　to　the　hospital。　It　would　make　a　hell　of　a　mess；　the　spook　was　sure；　while　Paul　Matthews　asked　his　questions；　and　the　photographer　shot　his　Kodak　film。　Finally。。。
　　　Yes；　that　was　the　Rabbit；　along　with　Mrs。　Rabbit　and　the　little　Bunny。　Nigel　tapped　the　shoulder　of　the　photographer。
　　　〃This　family　approaching　now。　Lovely　little　girl；〃　he　observed；　for　anyone　close　enough　to　listen。　The　photographer　fired　off　ten　frames　at　once；　then　switched　to　another　Nikon　and　fired　off　ten　more。　Excellent；　Haydock　thought。　He'd　have　them　printed　up　before　the　embassy　closed　down　for　the　night；　get　several　printed　off　to…no；　he'd　personally　hand　them　to　Ed　Foley；　and　make　sure　the　others　went　by　Queen's　Messenger…the　Brits'　rather　more　dignified　term　for　a　diplomatic　courier…so　they'd　be　sure　to　be　in　Sir　Basil's　hands　before　he　turned　in。　He　wondered　how　they　would　arrange　for　hiding　the　fact　of　the　Rabbit's　defection…it　certainly　meant　getting　cadavers。　Distasteful；　but　possible。　He　was　glad　he　didn't　have　to　figure　out　all　the　details。
　　　As　it　turned　out；　the　Rabbit　family　walked　within　ten　feet　of　him　and　his　reporter　friend。　No　words　were　exchanged；　though　the　little　girl；　like　little　girls　everywhere；　turned　to　look　at　him　as　she　passed。　He　gave　her　a　wink　and　got　a　little　smile　in　return。　And　then　they　passed　by；　walked　up　to　the　attendant；　and　showed　their　paper　ticket　forms。
　　　Matthews　kept　on　asking　his　questions　and　got　very　polite　answers　from　the　smiling　Russian　trainman。
　　　At　12：59：30；　the　conductor…or　at　least　so　Haydock　assumed；　from　the　shabby　uniform…walked　up　and　down　the　side　of　the　train　and　made　sure　all　the　doors　but　one　were　secure。　He　blew　a　whistle　and　waved　a　paddle…like　wand　to　let　the　engineer　know　it　was　time　to　move　off；　and　at　1：00　on　the　dot；　the　horn　sounded；　and　the　train　started　inching　away　from　the　platform；　gaining　speed　slowly　as　it　headed　west　into　the　capacious　railyard；　heading　for　Kiev；　Belgrade；　and　Budapest。
　　　
　　　CHAPTER　24　…　ROLLING　HILLS
　　　It　was　an　adventure　for　Svetlana　most　of　all；　but　actually　for　all　of　them；　since　none　of　the　Zaitzev　family　had　ever　taken　an　intercity　train。　The　railyards　on　the　way　out　were　like　any　railyards：　miles　of　parallel　and　converging　and　diverging　track　packed　with　box…　and　flatcars　carrying　who…knew…what　to　who…knew…where。　The　roughness　of　the　tracks　only　seemed　to　increase　the　apparent　speed。　Oleg　and　Irina　both　lit　cigarettes　and　looked　with　casual　interest　out　the　large　but　grubby　windows。　The　seats　were　not　unreasonable；　and　Oleg　could　see　how　the　beds　folded　down　from　the　overhead。
　　　They　had　two　partments；　in　fact；　with　a　connecting　door。　The　paneling　was　wood…birch；　by　the　look　of　it…and　each　partment；　remarkably；　had　its　own　lavatory；　and　so　zaichik　would　have　her　very　own；　for　the　first　time　in　her　life；　a　fact　she　had　yet　to　appreciate。
　　　Five　minutes　after　leaving　the　station；　the　conductor　came　by　for　their　tickets；　which　Zaitzev　handed　over。
　　　〃You　are　State　Security？〃　the　conductor　asked　politely。　So　the　KGB　travel　office　called　ahead　for　me；　Zaitzev　thought。　Good　of　them。　That　desk…sitter　probably　really　wanted　the　pantyhose　for　his　wife。
　　　〃I　am　not　permitted　to　discuss　that；　rade；〃　Oleg　Ivan'ch　answered；　with　a　hard　look；　making　sure　that　the　trainman　appreciated　his　importance。　That　was　one　way　to　ensure　proper　service。　A　KGB　officer　wasn't　quit