tc.redrabbit-第121章

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tion；　they　were　making　things　happen　speedily　for　once。。。　only　because　this　Rabbit　person　said　that　government　munications　were　promised。　Not　because　he'd　said　he　had　information　about　an　innocent　life　that　might　be　lost。　The　government　had　its　priorities；　and　they　did　not　always　correspond　to　the　needs　of　a　rational　world。　He　was　Director　of　Central　Intelligence；　supposedly…and　by　federal　law…in　mand　of　the　entire　intelligence…gathering　and　analysis　operations　of　the　government　of　the　United　States　of　America。　But　getting　this　bureaucracy　to　operate　efficiently　was　the　functional　equivalent　of　beaching　a　whale　and　manding　it　to　fly。　You　could　scream　all　you　wanted；　but　you　couldn't　fight　gravity。　Government　was　a　thing　made　by　men；　and　so　it　ought　to　be　possible　for　men　to　change　it；　but　in　practice　that　just　didn't　happen。　So；　three　chances　out　of　four；　they'd　get　their　Russian　out　and　get　to　debrief　him　in　a　fortable　safe　house　in　the　Virginia　hills；　pick　his　brain　clean；　and　maybe　they'd　find　out　some　important　and　useful　things；　but　the　game　wouldn't　change　and　neither；　probably；　would　CIA。
　　　〃Anything　we　need　to　say　to　Basil？〃
　　　〃Nothing　es　to　mind；　sir；〃　Bostock　answered。　〃We　just　sit　as　still　as　we　can　and　wait　for　his　people　to　carry　out　the　mission。〃　〃Right；〃　Judge　Moore　conceded。
　　　Despite　the　three　pints　of　dark　British　beer；　Ryan　did　not　sleep　well。　He　couldn't　think　of　anything　that　he　might　be　missing。　Hudson　and　his　crew　seemed　petent　enough；　and　the　Rabbit　family　had　looked　ordinary　enough　on　the　street　the　previous　morning。　There　were　three　people；　one　of　whom　really　wanted　out　of　the　USSR；　which　struck　Ryan　as　something　entirely　reasonable。。。　though　the　Russians　were　some　of　the　most　rabidly　patriotic　people　in　all　the　world。　But　every　rule　had　exceptions；　and　evidently　this　man　had　a　conscience　and　felt　the　need　to　stop。。。　something。　Whatever　it　was；　Jack　didn't　know；　and　he　knew　better　than　to　guess。　Speculation　wasn't　analysis；　and　good　analysis　was　what　they　paid　him　his　meager　salary　for。
　　　It　would　be　interesting　to　find　out。　Ryan　had　never　spoken　directly　with　a　defector。　He'd　read　over　their　stuff；　and　had　sent　written　questions　to　some　of　them　to　get　answers　to　specific　inquiries；　but　he'd　never　actually　looked　one　in　the　eye　and　watched　his　face　when　he　answered。　As　in　playing　cards；　it　was　the　only　way　to　read　the　other　guy。　He　didn't　have　the　ability　at　it　that　his　wife　had…there　was　something　to　be　said　for　medical　training…but　neither　was　he　a　three…year…old　who'd　believe　anything。　No；　he　wanted　to　see　this　guy；　talk　to　him；　and　pick　his　brain　apart；　just　to　evaluate　the　reliability　of　what　he　said。　The　Rabbit　could　be　a　plant；　after　all。　KGB　had　done　that　in　the　past；　Ryan　had　heard。　There'd　been　one　defector　who'd　e　out　after　the　assassination　of　John　Kennedy　who'd　proclaimed　to　the　very　heavens　that　KGB　had　taken　no　part　in　that　act。　It　was；　in　fact；　sufficient　to　make　the　Agency　wonder　if　maybe　KGB　had　done　precisely　that。　KGB　could　be　tricky；　but　like　all　clever；　tricky　people；　they　inevitably　overplayed　their　hand　sooner　or　later…and　the　later　they　did　it；　the　worse　they　overplayed　it。　They　understood　the　West　and　how　its　people　really　thought　things　through。　No；　Ivan　wasn't　ten　feet　tall；　and　neither　was　he　a　genius　at　everything；　despite　what　the　frightmongers　in　Washington…and　even　some　at　Langley…thought。
　　　Everyone　had　the　capacity　for　making　mistakes。　He'd　learned　that　from　his　father；　who'd　made　a　living　catching　murderers；　some　of　whom　thought　themselves　very　clever　indeed。　No；　the　only　difference　between　a　wise　man　and　a　fool　was　in　the　magnitude　of　his　mistakes。　To　err　was　human；　and　the　smarter　and　more　powerful　you　were；　the　greater　the　scope　of　your　screwup。　Like　LBJ　and　Vietnam；　the　war　Jack　had　barely　avoided　due　to　his　age…a　colossal　screwup　foisted　on　the　American　people　by　the　most　adroit　political　tactician　of　his　age；　a　man　who'd　thought　his　political　abilities　would　translate　to　international　power　politics；　only　to　learn　that　an　Asian　munist　didn't　think　the　same　way　that　a　senator　from　Texas　did。　All　men　had　their　limitations。　It　was　just　that　some　were　more　dangerous　than　others。　And　while　genius　knew　it　had　limits；　idiocy　was　always　unbounded。
　　　He　lay　in　his　bed；　smoking　a　cigarette　and　looking　at　the　ceiling；　wondering　what　would　e　tomorrow。　Another　manifestation　of　Sean　Miller　and　his　terrorists？
　　　Hopefully　not；　Jack　thought；　still　wondering　why　Hudson　wouldn't　have　a　gun　close　by　for　the　ing　adventures。　Had　to　be　some　European　thing；　he　decided。　Americans　on　hostile　soil　liked　to　have　at　least　one　friend　around。
　　　
　　　CHAPTER　27　…　RABBIT　RUN
　　　One　more　day　in　a　strange　city；　Zaitzev　thought；　as　the　sun　began　to　rise　in　the　east；　two　hours　earlier　than　in　Moscow。　At　home　he'd　still　be　sleeping；　Oleg　Ivan'ch　told　himself。　In　due　course；　he　hoped；　he'd　be　waking　up　somewhere　else；　in　an　altogether　different　time　zone　yet　again。　But　for　now　he　just　lay　still；　savoring　the　moment。　There　was　virtually　no　sound　outside；　perhaps　a　few　delivery　trucks　on　the　streets。　The　sun　was　not　quite　yet　above　the　horizon。　It　was　dark；　but　no　longer　night；　brightening　up；　but　not　yet　morning；　the　middle　part　of　the　early　day。　It　could　be　a　pleasant　moment。　It　was　a　time　children　could　like；　a　magical　time　when　the　world　belonged　only　to　those　few　who　were　awake；　and　all　others　were　still　unseen　in　their　beds；　and　the　kids　could　walk　around　like　little　kings；　until　their　mothers　caught　them　and　dragged　them　back　into　their　beds。
　　　But　Zaitzev　just　lay　there；　hearing　the　slow　breathing　of　his　wife　and　daughter；　while　he　was　now　fully　awake；　free　to　think　entirely　alone。
　　　When　would　they　contact　him？　What　would　they　say？　Would　they　change　their　minds？　Would　they　betray　his　trust？
　　　Why　was　he　so　goddamned　uneasy　about　everything？　Wasn't　it　time　to　trust　the　CIA　just　a　little　bit？　Wasn't　he　going　to　be　a　huge　asset　to　them？
　　　Would　he　not　be　valuable　to　them？　Even　KGB；　as　stingy　as　a　child　with　the　best　toys；　gave　fort　and　prestige　to　its　defectors。　All　the　alcohol　Kim　Philby　could　drink。　All　the　zhopniki　Burgess　could　ass…fuck；　or　so　the　stories　went。　In　both　cases；　the　stories　went；　the　appetites　were　fairy　large。　But　such　stories　always　grew　with　the　telling；　and　they　depended　at　least　partly　on　the　Soviet　antipathy　for　homosexuals。
　　　He　wasn't　one　of　those。　He　was　a　man　of　principle；　wasn't　he？　Zaitzev　asked　himself。　Of　course　he　was。　For　principle　he　was　taking　his　own　life　in　his　hands　and　juggling　it。　Like　knives　in　the　circus。　And　like　that　juggler；　only　he　would　be　hurt　by　a　misjudgment。　Oleg　lit　his　first　smoke　of　the　day；　trying　to　think　things　through　for　the　hundredth　time；　looking　for　another　viable　course　of　action。
　　　He　could　just　go　to　the　concerts；　continue　his　shopping；　take　the　train　back　to　Kiev　Station；　and　be　a　hero　to　his　workmates　for　getting　them　their　tape　machines　and　pornographic　movies；　and　the　pantyhose　for　their　wives；　and　probably　a　few　things　for　himself。　And　KGB　would　never　be　the　wiser。
　　　But　then　the　Polish　priest　will　die；　at　Soviet　hands。。。　hands　you　have　the　power　to　forestall；　and　then　what　sort　of　man　will　you　see　in　the　mirror；　Oleg　Ivan'ch？
　　　It　always　came　back　to　the　same　thing；　didn't　it？
　　　But　there　was　little　point　in　going　back　to　sleep；　so　he　smoked　his　cigarette　and　lay　there；　watching　the　sky　brighten　outside　his　hotel　window。
　　　Cathy　Ryan　didn't　really　wake　up　until　her　hand　found　empty　bed　where　it　ought　to　have　found　her　husband。　That　automatically；　somehow；　caused　her　to　e　fully　awake　in　an　instant　and　just　as　quickly　to　remember　that　he　was　out　of　town　and　out　of　the　country…theirs　and　this　one…and　that　as　a　result　she　was　alone；　effectively　a　single　mother；　which　was　not　something　she'd　bargained　for　when　she'd　married　John　Patrick　Ryan；　Sr。　She　wasn't　the　only　woman　in　the　world　whose　husband　traveled　on　business…her　father　did　it　often　enough；　and　she'd　grown　up　with　that。　But　this　was　the　first　time　for　Jack；　and　she　didn't　like　it　at　all。
　　　It　wasn't　that　she　was　unable　to　cope。　She　had　to　cope　on　a　daily　basis　with　worse　tribulations　than　this　one。　Nor　was　she　concerned　that　Jack　might　b