tc.redrabbit-第42章

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　looking　his　way。　But。。。　no；　almost　certainly　not。　His　maneuver　had　gone　undetected；　even　by　the　American。
　　　Foley　didn'T　EVEN　let　his　eyes　move　as　he　read　to　the　bottom　of　the　hockey　article。　Had　he　been　in　New　York　or　any　other　Western　city；　he　would　have　thought　that　someone　had　just　attempted　to　pick　his　pocket。　Strangely；　he　didn't　expect　that　here。　Soviet　citizens　were　not　allowed　to　have　Western　currency；　and　so　there　was　nothing　but　trouble　to　be　gained　in　robbing　an　American　on　the　street；　much　less　picking　his　pocket。　And　KGB；　which　was　probably　still　shadowing　him；　was　most　unlikely　to　do　anything　like　that。　If　they　wanted　to　lift　his　wallet；　they'd　use　a　two…man　team；　as　professional　American　pickpockets　did；　one　to　delay　and　distract；　and　the　other　to　make　the　lift。　You　could　get　almost　anyone　that　way；　unless　the　target　was　alerted；　and　staying　alert　for　so　long　was　a　lot　to　ask；　even　of　an　expert　professional　spook。　So　you　employed　passive　defenses；　like　wrapping　a　rubber　band　or　two　around　the　wallet…simple；　but　very　effective；　and　one　of　the　things　they　taught　you　at　The　Farm；　the　sort　of　basic　tradecraft　that　didn't　announce　〃spy！〃　to　everyone。　The　NYPD　advised　people　to　do　the　same　thing　on　the　streets　of　Manhattan；　and　he　was　supposed　to　look　like　an　American。　Since　he　had　a　diplomatic　passport　and　〃legal〃　cover；　theoretically；　his　person　was　inviolable。　Not　necessarily　from　a　street　thug；　of　course；　and　both　the　KGB　and　the　FBI　were　not　above　having　a　highly　trained　street　thug　rough　someone　up；　albeit　within　carefully　thought…through　parameters；　lest　things　get　out　of　control。　The　entire　state　of　affairs　made　the　Imperial　Court　of　Byzantium　look　simple　by　parison；　but　Ed　Foley　didn't　make　the　rules。
　　　Those　rules　now　did　not　allow　him　to　check　his　pocket　or　make　the　least　sign　that　he　knew　that　someone's　hand　had　been　in　there。　Maybe　someone　had　dropped　him　a　note…a　notice　of　desire　to　defect；　even。　But　why　him？　His　cover　was　supposed　to　be　as　solid　as　a　T…bill；　unless　someone　in　the　embassy　had　made　a　very　shrewd　guess　and　then　ratted　him　out。。。　But　no；　even　then；　KGB　wouldn't　tip　their　hand　this　quickly。　They'd　watch　him　for　a　few　weeks　at　least；　just　to　see　what　else　he　might　lead　them　to。　KGB　played　the　game　too　skillfully　for　that　sort　of　play；　so；　no；　there　wasn't　much　chance　that　whoever　had　searched　his　pocket　was　a　Second　Chief　Directorate　guy。　And　probably　not　a　pickpocket；　either。　Then　what？　Foley　wondered。　He'd　have　to　be　patient　to　find　out；　but　Foley　knew　a　lot　about　patience。　He　kept　on　reading　his　newspaper。　If　it　were　someone　who　wanted　to　do　a　little　business；　why　scare　him　off？　At　the　very　least；　he'd　let　him　feel　clever。　It　was　always　useful　to　help　other　people　feel　smart。　That　way；　they　could　continue　their　mistakes。
　　　Three　more　stops　before　he　got　off　the　subway。　Foley　had　known　up　front　that　it　would　be　a　lot　more　productive　to　ride　it　than　to　drive　the　car。　That　Mercedes　was　just　too　standout…ish　for　this　place。　It　would　make　Mary　Pat　stand　out；　too；　but　to　her　way　of　thinking；　that　worked　for　her　rather　than　against。　His　wife　had　brilliant　field　instincts；　better　than　his；　but　she　often　scared　him　in　her　daring。　It　wasn't　so　much　that　Mary　Pat　was　a　risk…taker。　Every　member　of　the　DO　took　risks。　It　was　her　relish　for　doing　so　that　occasionally　worried　him。　For　him；　playing　with　the　Russians　was　part　of　the　job。　It　was　business；　as　Don　Vito　Corleone　would　have　put　it；　not　personal。　But　for　Mary　Patricia；　it　was　as　personal　as　hell；　because　of　her　grandfather。
　　　She'd　lusted　to　be　part　of　CIA　before　they'd　met　in　the　Student　Union　at　Fordham；　and　then　again　at　the　CIA　recruiter's　desk；　and　they'd　hit　it　off　soon　after　that。　She'd　already　had　her　Russian…language　skills。　She　could　pass　for　a　native。　She　could　alter　her　accent　for　any　region　of　the　country。　She　could　feign　being　an　instructor　in　poetry　at　Moscow　State　University；　and　she　was　pretty；　and　pretty　women　had　an　advantage　over　everyone　else。　It　was　the　oldest　of　prejudices；　that　the　attractive　among　us　had　to　be　good　people；　that　the　bad　people　had　to　be　ugly　because　they　did　ugly　things。　Men　were　especially　deferential　to　pretty　women；　other　women　were　less　so；　because　they　envied　their　looks；　but　even　they　were　nice　by　instinct。　So　Mary　Pat　could　skate　on　a　lot　of　things；　because　she　was　just　that　pretty　American　girl；　that　ditsy　blonde；　because　blondes　were　universally　thought　to　be　dumb；　even　here　in　Russia；　where　they　were　not　all　that　unmon。　The　ones　here　were　probably　natural　blondes；　too；　because　the　local　cosmetics　industry　was　about　as　advanced　as　it　must　have　been　in　twelfth…century　Hungary；　and　there　wasn't　much　Clairol　Blond　#100G　in　the　local　drugstores。　No；　the　Soviet　Union　paid　scant　attention　to　the　needs　of　its　womenfolk；　which　led　his　mind　to　another　question…why　had　the　Russians　stopped　at　only　one　revolution？　In　America　there　would　have　been　hell　to　pay　for　the　lack　of　choices　in　clothes　and　cosmetics　the　women　had　here。。。
　　　The　train　stopped　at　his　station。　Foley　made　his　way　to　the　door　and　walked　to　the　escalator。　Halfway　up；　his　curiosity　got　the　better　of　him。　He　rubbed　his　nose　as　though　with　a　case　of　the　sniffles；　and　fished　in　his　pocket　for　a　handkerchief。　He　rubbed　his　nose　with　it　and　then　shoved　it　in　his　coat　pocket；　which；　he　discovered；　was　empty。　So　what　had　that　been　all　about？　There　was　no　telling。　Just　one　more　random　event　in　a　life　filled　with　them？
　　　But　Edward　Foley　hadn't　been　trained　to　think　in　terms　of　random　events。　He'd　continue　this　regular　schedule；　and　be　sure　to　catch　this　same　subway　train　every　day　for　a　week　or　so；　just　to　see　if　there　might　be　a　repeat。
　　　Albert　Byrd　seemed　a　petent　eye　cutter。　He　was　shorter　and　older　than　Jack。　He　had　a　beard；　black　and　showing　hints　of　gray…like　a　lot　of　beards　in　England；　she'd　noted。　And　tattoos。　More　than　she'd　ever　encountered　before。　Professor　Byrd　was　a　skilled　clinician；　good　with　his　pa　tients；　and　a　very　adept　surgeon；　liked　and　trusted　by　his　nursing　team…always　the　sign　of　a　good　doc；　Cathy　knew。　He　seemed　to　be　a　good　teacher；　but　Cathy　already　knew　most　of　what　he　had　to　teach；　and　knew　more　about　lasers　than　he　did。　The　argon　laser　here　was　new；　but　not　as　new　as　the　one　at　Hopkins；　and　it　would　be　two　weeks　before　they　even　had　a　xenon…arc　laser；　for　which　she　was　Wilmer　Eye　Institute's　best　jockey　at　Hopkins。
　　　The　bad　news　was　in　the　physical　facilities。　Health　care　in　Britain　was　effectively　a　government　monopoly。　Everything　was　free…and；　like　everywhere　in　the　world；　you　got　what　you　paid　for。　The　waiting　rooms　were　far　shabbier　than　Cathy　was　used　to；　and　she　remarked　on　it。
　　　〃I　know；〃　Professor　Byrd　said　tiredly。　〃It's　not　a　priority。〃
　　　〃The　third　case　I　saw　this　morning；　Mrs。　Dover；　she'd　been　on　the　waiting　list　for　eleven　months…for　a　cataract　evaluation　that　took　me　twenty　minutes。　My　God；　Albert；　at　home　her　family　physician　just　calls　my　secretary　and　I　see　her　in　three　or　four　days。　I　work　hard　at　Hopkins；　but　not　that　hard。〃
　　　〃What　would　you　charge？〃
　　　〃For　that？　Oh。。。　two　hundred　dollars。　Since　I'm　an　assistant　professor　at　Wilmer；　I　e　a　little　higher　than　a　new　resident。〃　But；　she　didn't　add；　she　was　a　damned　sight　smarter　than　the　average　resident；　more　experienced；　and　a　faster　worker。　〃Mrs。　Dover　is　going　to　need　surgery　to　correct　it；〃　she　added。　〃Want　me　to　do　it？　〃
　　　〃plicated？〃　Byrd　asked。
　　　She　shook　her　head。　〃Routine　procedure。　About　ninety　minutes'　work　because　of　her　age；　but　it　doesn't　look　as　though　there　should　be　any　plications。〃
　　　〃Well；　Mrs。　Dover　will　go　on　the　list。〃
　　　〃How　long？〃
　　　〃It's　not　an　emergency　procedure。。。　nine　to　ten　months；〃　Byrd　figured。
　　　〃You're　kidding；〃　Cathy　objected。　〃That　long？〃
　　　〃That's　about　normal。〃
　　　〃But　that's　nine　or　ten　months　during　which　she　can't　see　well　enough　to　drive　a　car！〃
　　　〃She　won't　ever　see　a　bill；〃　Byrd　pointed　out。
　　　〃Fine。　She　can't　read　the　newspapers　for　the　best　part　of　a　year。　Albert；　that's　awful！〃
　　　〃It's　our　national　health…care　system；〃　Byrd　explained。
　　　〃I　see；〃　Cathy　said。　But　she　didn't　really。　The　surgeons　here　were　proficient　enough；　but　they　did　only　a　bit　more　than　half　the