tc.redrabbit-第56章

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　　　They're　really　going　to　do　it；　Oleg　Ivanovich　told　himself　with　a　frown。　What　do　I　do　now？
　　　Work　his　usual　day；　and　then　look　for　a　green　tie　on　the　metro　home。　And　pray　he　saw　it？　Or　pray　he　didn't？
　　　Zaitzev　shook　the　thought　off　and　called　for　a　messenger　to　hand…deliver　the　dispatch　to　the　top　floor。　A　moment　later；　a　basketful　of　dispatches　landed　on　his　desk　for　processing。
　　　〃Ouch；〃　Ed　Foley　said　aloud　at　his　desk。　The　message…a　lengthy　one…came　from　Ritter　and　Moore；　speaking　for　the　President。　He'd　have　to　rattle　some　serious　bushes　for　this。
　　　Station　Moscow　didn't　have　a　written　list　of　agents；　even　by　code　names；　and　even　in　Foley's　office　safe；　which　in　addition　to　a　bination　had　a　two…phase　alarm　built　in；　a　keypad　on　the　outside；　and　one　on　the　inside　with　a　different　code；　which　Foley　had　set　himself。　The　embassy's　Marines　had　orders　to　respond　to　either　alarm　with　drawn　weapons；　since　the　contents　of　this　safe　were　about　the　most　sensitive　documents　in　the　whole　building。
　　　But　Foley　had　the　names　of　every　Russian　citizen　who　worked　for　the　Agency　hard　cut　into　his　eyelids；　along　with　their　specialty　areas。　Twelve　such　agents　were　currently　operating。　They'd　just　lost　one　the　week　before　he'd　arrived　in　Moscow…burned。　No　one　knew　how；　though　Foley　was　concerned　that　the　Russians　might　have　a　mole　in　Langley　itself。　It　was　heresy　to　think　it；　but　as　CIA　tried　to　do　it　to　KGB；　so　KGB　tried　to　do　it　to　CIA；　and　there　was　no　referee　on　the　playing　field　to　let　the　players　know　what　the　score　was。　The　lost　agent；　whose　code　name　had　been　SOUSA；　was　a　lieutenant　colonel　in　the　GRU　and　had　helped　identify　some　major　leaks　in　the　German　defense　ministry　and　other　NATO　sources；　through　which　KGB　had　gotten　political…military　intelligence　of　a　high　order。　But　that　guy　was　dead…still　breathing；　perhaps；　but　dead　even　so。　Foley　hoped　they　wouldn't　load　the　guy　alive　into　a　furnace；　as　had　been　done　with　another　GRU　source　back　in　the　1950s。　Rather　a　cruel　method　of　execution；　even　for　the　Russians　under　Khrushchev；　and　something　that　had　kept　his　case　officer　awake　for　a　very　long　time；　the　COS　was　sure。
　　　So　they'd　have　to　get　two；　maybe　three；　of　their　agents　working　on　this　one。　They　had　a　good　guy　in　KGB　and　another　in　the　Party　Central　mittee。　Maybe　one　of　them　might　have　heard　about　a　possible　operation　against　the　Pope。
　　　Damn；　Foley　thought；　are　they　that　crazy？　It　required　a　considerable　stretch　of　his　imagination。　An　Irishman　by　ancestry；　and　Roman　Catholic　by　education　and　religious　affiliation；　Ed　Foley　had　to　make　a　mental　effort　to　set　aside　his　personal　thoughts。　Such　a　plot　was　beyond　the　pale；　perhaps；　but　he　was　dealing　with　people　who　didn't　recognize　the　concept　of　limits；　certainly　not　from　any　outside　agency。　For　them；　God　was　politics；　and　a　threat　to　their　political　world　was　like　Lucifer　himself　challenging　the　order　of　heaven。　Except　that　the　simile　only　went　so　far。　This　was　more　like　Michael　the　Archangel　challenging　the　order　of　Hell。　Mary　Pat　called　it　the　belly　of　the　beast；　and　this　one　was　one　nasty　fuckin'　beast。
　　　〃Daddy！〃　Sally　exclaimed；　waking　up　with　her　usual　smile。　He　guided　her　to　the　bathroom　and　then　downstairs；　where　her　oatmeal　was　waiting。　Sally　still　wore　her　bunny…rabbit　sleepers；　with　feet　and　a　long　zipper。　This　one　was　yellow。　And　it　was　the　largest　size；　and　her　feet　were　stretching　it。　She'd　have　to　change　to　some　other　sleepwear　soon；　but　that　was　Cathy's　department。
　　　The　routine　was　set。　Cathy　fed　Little　Jack　and；　halfway　through；　her　husband　set　down　his　paper　and　headed　upstairs　to　shave。　By　the　time　he　was　dressed；　she　was　finished　with　her　duty；　and　went　off　to　get　cleaned　up　and　dressed　while　Jack　burped　the　little　guy　and　got　him　into　his　socks　to　keep　his　feet　warm；　and　also　to　give　him　something　to　pull　off　so　that　he　could　see　if　the　feet　tasted　the　same　as　they　had　the　previous　day；　which　was　a　newly　acquired　skill。
　　　Soon　the　doorbell　rang；　and　it　was　Margaret　van　der　Beek；　soon　followed　by　Ed　Beaverton；　which　allowed　the　parents　to　escape　off　to　work。　At　Victoria　Station；　Cathy　kissed　her　husband　good…bye　and　headed　for　the　tube　station　for　the　ride　to　Moorefields；　while　Jack　took　a　different　train　to　Century　House；　and　the　day　was　about　to　start　for　real。
　　　〃Good　morning；　Sir　John。〃
　　　〃Hey；　Bert。〃　Ryan　paused。　Bert　Canderton　had　〃army〃　written　all　over　him；　and　it　was　time　to　ask。　〃What　regiment　were　you？〃
　　　〃I　was　Regimental　Sergeant　Major　of　the　Royal　Green　Jackets；　sir。〃
　　　〃Infantry？〃
　　　〃Correct；　sir。〃
　　　〃I　thought　you　guys　wore　red　coats；〃　Ryan　observed。
　　　〃Well；　that's　your　fault…you　Yanks；　that　is。　In　your　revolutionary　war；　my　regiment　took　so　many　casualties　from　your　riflemen　that　the　colonel　of　the　regiment　decided　a　green　tunic　might　be　safer。　It's　been　that　way　ever　since。〃
　　　〃How　did　you　end　up　here？〃
　　　〃I'm　waiting　for　an　opening　at　the　Tower　to　be　a　Yeoman　Warder；　sir。　Should　have　a　new　red　coat　in　a　month　or　so；　they　tell　me。〃
　　　Canderton's　rent…a…cop　blouse　had　some　service　ribbons　on　it；　probably　not　for　brushing　and　flossing　his　teeth；　and　a　regimental　sergeant　major　in　the　British　army　was　somebody；　like　a　master　gunnery　sergeant　in　the　Marine　Corps。
　　　〃I've　been　there；　been　to　the　club　they　have；〃　said　Ryan。　〃Good　bunch　of　troops。〃
　　　〃Indeed。　I　have　a　friend　there；　Mick　Truelove。　He　was　in　the　Queen's　Regiment。〃
　　　〃Well；　sar…major；　keep　the　bad　guys　out；〃　Ryan　said；　as　he　worked　his　card　into　the　electronic　slot　that　controlled　the　entry　gate。
　　　〃I　will　do　that；　sir；〃　Canderton　promised。
　　　Harding　was　at　his　desk　when　Ryan　came　in。　Jack　hung　his　jacket　on　the　tree。
　　　〃e　in　early；　Simon？〃
　　　〃Your　Judge　Moore　sent　a　fax　to　Bas　last　night…just　after　midnight；　as　a　matter　of　fact。　Here。〃　He　handed　it　across。
　　　Ryan　scanned　it。　〃The　Pope；　eh？〃
　　　〃Your　President　is　interested；　and　so　is　the　PM；　as　it　happens；〃　Harding　said；　relighting　his　pipe。　〃Basil　called　us　in　early　to　go　over　what　data　we　have。〃
　　　〃Okay；　what　do　we　have？〃
　　　〃Not　much；〃　Harding　admitted。　〃I　can't　talk　to　you　about　our　sources…〃
　　　〃Simon；　I'm　not　dumb。　You　have　somebody　in　close；　either　a　confidante　of　a　Politburo　member　or　someone　in　the　Party　Secretariat。　He's　not　telling　you　anything？〃　Ryan　had　seen　some　very　interesting　〃take〃　in　here；　and　it　had　to　have　e　from　somebody　inside　the　big　red　tent。
　　　〃I　can't　confirm　your　suspicion；〃　Harding　cautioned；　〃but　no；　none　of　our　sources　have　given　us　anything；　not　even　that　the　Warsaw　Letter　has　arrived　in　Moscow；　though　we　know　it　must　have。〃
　　　〃So；　we　don't　know　jackshit？〃
　　　Simon　nodded　soberly。　〃Correct。〃
　　　〃Amazing　how　often　that　happens。〃
　　　〃It's　just　a　part　of　the　job；　Jack。〃
　　　〃And　the　PM　has　her　panties　in　a　wad？〃
　　　Harding　hadn't　heard　that　Americanism　before；　and　it　caused　him　to　blink　twice。　〃So　it　would　seem。〃
　　　〃So；　what　are　we　supposed　to　tell　her？　She　damned　sure　doesn't　want　to　hear　that　we　don't　know。〃
　　　〃No；　our　political　leaders　do　not　like　to　hear　that　sort　of　thing。〃
　　　Neither　do　ours；　Ryan　admitted　to　himself。　〃So；　how　good　is　Basil　at　a　song…and…dance　number？〃
　　　〃Quite　good；　actually。　In　this　case；　he　can　say　that　your　chaps　do　not　have　very　much；　either。〃
　　　〃Ask　other　NATO　services？〃
　　　Harding　shook　his　head。　〃No。　It　might　leak　out　to　the　opposition…first；　that　we're　interested；　and　second；　that　we　don't　know　enough。〃
　　　〃How　good　are　our　friends？〃
　　　〃Depends。　The　French　SDECE　occasionally　turns　good　information；　but　they　do　not　like　to　share。　Neither　do　our　Israeli　friends。　The　Germans　are　thoroughly　promised。　That　Markus　Wolf　chap　in　East　Germany　is　a　bloody　genius　at　this　business…perhaps　the　best　in　the　world；　and　under　Soviet　control。　The　Italians　have　some　talented　people；　but　they；　too；　have　problems　with　penetration。　You　know；　the　best　service　on　the　continent　might　well　be　the　Vatican　itself。　But　if　Ivan　is　doing　anything　at　the　moment；　he's　covering　it　nicely。　Ivan　is　quite　good　at　that；　you　know。〃
　　　〃So　I've　heard；〃　Ryan　agreed。　〃When　does　Basil　have　to　go　to　Downing　Street？〃
　　　〃After　lunch…three　this　afternoon；　I　understand。〃
　　　〃And　what　will　we　be　able　to　give　him？〃
　　　〃Not　very　much；　I'm　afra