tc.redrabbit-第69章

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　　　〃You　know；　Simon；　I　think　everyone's　worried　about　this。〃
　　　〃It's　a　pity　he　had　to　send　that　letter　to　Warsaw；　isn't　it？〃
　　　〃Could　you　expect　him　not　to？〃　Ryan　countered。　〃They　are　his　people。　It　is　his　homeland；　after　all；　isn't　it？　It's　his　parish　the　Russians　are　trying　to　stomp　on。〃
　　　〃That　is　the　problem；〃　Harding　agreed。　〃But　the　Russians　will　not　change。　Impasse。〃
　　　Ryan　nodded。　〃Yeah。　What's　the　chance　that　the　Russians　will　back　off？〃
　　　〃Absent　a　solid　reason　to；　not　a　very　great　chance。　Will　your　President　try　to　warn　them　off？〃
　　　〃Even　if　he　could；　he　wouldn't。　Not　on　something　like　this；　buddy。〃
　　　〃So　we　have　two　sides。　One　is　driven　by　what　it　deems　to　be　the　proper　moral　course　of　action…and　the　other　by　political　necessity；　by　fear　of　not　acting。　As　I　said；　Jack；　it's　a　bloody　impasse。〃
　　　〃Father　Tim　at　Georgetown　liked　to　say　that　wars　are　begun　by　frightened　men。　They're　afraid　of　the　consequences　of　war；　but　they　are　more　afraid　of　not　fighting。　Hell　of　a　way　to　run　a　world；〃　Ryan　thought　out　loud；　opening　the　door　for　his　friend。
　　　〃August　1914　as　the　model；　I　expect。〃
　　　〃Right；　but　at　least　those　guys　all　believed　in　God。　The　second　go　round　was　a　little　different　in　that　respect。　The　players　in　that　one…the　Bad　Guys；　anyway…didn't　live　under　that　particular　constraint。　Neither　do　the　guys　in　Moscow。　You　know；　there　have　to　be　some　limits　on　our　actions；　or　we　can　turn　into　monsters。〃
　　　〃Tell　that　to　the　Politburo；　Jack；〃　Harding　suggested　lightly。
　　　〃Yeah；　Simon；　sure。〃　Ryan　headed　off　to　the　men's　room　to　dump　some　of　his　liquid　lunch。
　　　The　evening　didn't　e　quickly　enough　for　either　of　the　players。　Ed　Foley　wondered　what　was　ing　next。　There　was　no　guarantee　that　this　guy　would　follow　up　on　what　he'd　started。　He　could　always　get　cold　feet…actually；　it'd　be　rather　a　sensible　thing　for　him　to　do。　Treason　was　dangerous　outside　the　U。S。　Embassy。　He　was　still　wearing　a　green　tie…the　other　one；　he　had　only　two…for　luck；　because　he'd　gotten　to　the　point　where　luck　counted。　Whoever　the　guy　was；　just　so　he　didn't　get　cold　feet。
　　　e　on；　Ivan；　keep　ing　and　we'll　give　you　the　joint；　Foley　thought；　trying　to　reach　out　with　his　mind。　Lifetime　ticket　to　Disney　World；　all　the　football　games　you　can　handle。　Oleg　Penkovskiy　wanted　to　meet　Kennedy　and；　yeah；　we　can　probably　swing　that　with　the　new　President。　Hell；　we'll　even　throw　in　a　movie　in　the　White　House　theater。
　　　And　across　town；　Mary　Pat　was　thinking　exactly　the　same　thing。　If　this　went　one　more　step；　she'd　play　a　part　in　the　opening　drama。　If　this　guy　worked　in　the　Russian　MERCURY；　and　if　he　wanted　a　ticket　out　of　Mother　Russia；　then　she　and　Ed　would　have　to　figure　a　way　to　make　that　happen。　There　were　ways；　and　they'd　been　used　before；　but　they　weren't　what　you'd　call　〃routine。〃　Soviet　border　security　wasn't　exactly　perfect；　but　it　was　pretty　tight…tight　enough　to　make　you　sweat　playing　with　it；　and　though　she　had　the　sort　of　demeanor　that　often　worked　well　while　playing　serious　games；　it　didn't　make　you　feel　fortable。　And　so　she　started　kicking　some　ideas　around；　just　in　her　head；　as　she　worked　around　the　apartment　and　little　Eddie　took　his　afternoon　nap；　and　the　hours　crept　by；　one　lengthy　second　at　a　time。
　　　Ed　foley　hadn't　sent　any　messages　off　to　Langley　yet。　It　wasn't　time。　He　had　nothing　substantive　to　report；　and　there　was　no　sense　getting　Bob　Ritter　all　excited　over　something　that　hadn't　developed　yet。　It　happened　often　enough：　People　made　approaches　to　CIA　and　then　felt　a　chill　inside　their　shoes　and　backed　away。　You　couldn't　chase　after　them。　More　often　than　not；　you　didn't　even　know　who　they　were　and；　if　you　did；　and　if　they　decided　not　to　play；　the　sensible　thing　for　the　other　guy　was　to　report　you　to　KGB。　That　fingered　you　as　a　spook…rendering　your　value　to　your　country　as　approximately　zero…and　covered　his　ass　nicely　as　a　loyal　and　vigilant　Soviet　citizen；　doing　his　duty　to　the　Motherland。
　　　People　didn't　realize　that　CIA　almost　never　recruited　its　agents。　No；　those　people　came　to　you…sometimes　cleverly；　sometimes　not。　That　left　you　open　to　be　fooled　by　a　false…flag　operation。　The　American　FBI　was　particularly　good　at　that　sort　of　play；　and　KGB's　Second　Chief　Directorate　was　known　to　use　the　gambit；　too；　just　to　identify　spooks　on　the　embassy　staff；　which　was　always　something　worth　doing。　If　you　knew　who　they　were；　you　could　follow　them　and　watch　them　service　their　dead…drops；　and　then　camp　out　on　the　drop　site　to　see　who　else　stopped　off　there。　Then　you　had　your　traitor；　who　could　lead　you　to　other　traitors；　and　with　luck　you　could　roll　up　a　whole　spy　ring；　which　earned　you　a　gold　star…well；　a　nice　red　star…in　your　copybook。　Counterespionage　officers　could　make　their　whole　careers　on　one　such　case；　both　in　Russia　and　in　America；　and　so　they　worked　pretty　hard　at　it。　The　Second　Directorate　people　were　numerous…supposedly；　half　of　KGB's　personnel　were　in　there…and　they　were　smart；　professional　spooks　with　all　sorts　of　resources；　and　the　patience　of　a　vulture　circling　over　the　Arizona　desert；　sniffing　the　air　for　the　smell　of　a　dead　jackrabbit；　then　homing　in　to　feast　on　the　carcass。
　　　But　KGB　was　more　dangerous　than　a　vulture。　A　vulture　didn't　actively　hunt。　Ed　Foley　could　never　be　sure　if　he　had　a　shadow　as　he　traveled　around　Moscow。　Oh；　sure；　he　might　spot　one；　but　that　could　just　be　a　deliberate　effort　to　put　a　clumsy…or　an　exceedingly　clever…officer　on　his　tail　to　see　if　he'd　try　to　shake　him。　All　intelligence　officers　were　trained　in　surveillance　and　countersurveillance；　and　the　techniques　were　both　universally　valid　and　universally　recognized；　and　so　Foley　never　used　them。　Not　ever。　Not　even　once。　It　was　too　dangerous　to　be　clever　in　this　game；　because　you　could　never　be　clever　enough。　There　were　other　countermoves　to　use　when　necessary；　like　the　preplanned　brush…pass　known　to　every　spook　in　the　world；　but　very　difficult　to　spot　even　so；　because　of　its　very　simplicity。　No；　when　that　failed；　it　was　usually　because　your　agent　got　rattled。　It　was　a　lot　harder　to　be　an　agent　than　a　field　officer。　Foley　had　diplomatic　cover。　The　Russians　could　have　movie　film　of　him　buggering　Andropov's　pet　goat　and　not　be　able　to　do　a　thing　about　it。　He　was　technically　a　diplomat；　and　protected　by　the　Vienna　Convention；　which　made　his　person　inviolable…even　in　time　of　war；　though　things　got　a　little　dicier　then。　But　that；　Foley　judged；　was　not　a　problem。　He'd　be　fried　like　everyone　else　in　Moscow　then；　and　so　would　not　be　lonely　in　whatever　afterlife　spies　inhabited。
　　　He　wrenched　his　mind　away　from　the　irrelevancies；　entertaining　though　they　might　be。　It　came　down　to　one　thing：　Would　his　friend　Ivan　take　the　next　step；　or　would　he　just　fade　back　into　the　woodwork；　taking　satisfaction　that　he'd　managed　to　make　the　U。S。　Embassy　dance　to　his　tune　one　cool　Moscow　morning？　To　find　that　out；　you　had　to　turn　over　the　cards。　Would　it　be　blackjack；　or　just　a　pair　of　fours？
　　　That's　why　you　got　into　this　business；　Ed；　Foley　reminded　himself…the　thrill　of　the　chase。　It　sure　as　hell　was　a　thrill；　even　if　the　game　disappeared　into　the　mists　of　the　forest。　It　was　more　fun　skinning　the　bear　than　smelling　it。
　　　Why　was　this　guy　doing　what　he　was　doing？　Money？　Ideology？　Conscience？　Ego？　Those　were　the　classic　reasons；　as　summarized　by　the　acronym　MICE。　Some　spies　just　wanted　the　mayonnaise　jar　full　of　one…hundred…dollar　bills。　Some　came　to　believe　in　the　politics　of　the　foreign　countries　they　served　with　the　religious　fervor　of　the　newly　converted。　Some　were　troubled　because　their　Motherland　was　doing　something　they　couldn't　abide。　Some　just　knew　they　were　better　men　than　their　bosses；　and　this　was　a　way　to　get　even　with　the　sons…of…bitches。
　　　Historically；　ideological　spies　were　the　most　productive。　Men　would　put　their　lives　on　the　betting　line　for　their　beliefs…which　was　why　religious　wars　were　so　bloody。　Foley　preferred　the　monetarily　motivated。　They　were　always　rational；　and　they'd　take　chances；　because　the　bigger　the　risk；　the　greater　their　reward。　Ego…driven　agents　were　touchy　and　troublesome。　Revenge　was　never　a　pretty　motive　for　doing　anything；　and　those　people　were　usually　unstable。　Conscience　was　almost　as　good　as　ideology。　At　leas