tc.redrabbit-第73章

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lly　a　voluntary　union　of　republics；　and　Russia　theoretically　had　a　constitution　that　existed　over　and　above　the　will　of　the　munist　Party　of　the　Soviet　Union。　And　there　was　theoretically　an　Easter　Bunny；　too；　he　thought；　looking　around。
　　　They　took　the　escalator　to　the　second　floor…the　escalator　was　of　the　old　sort；　with　thick　wooden　runners　instead　of　the　metal　type　which　had　long　since　taken　over　in　the　West。　The　fur　department　was　over　on　the　right；　toward　the　back；　and；　on　initial　visual　inspection；　the　selection　there　wasn't　all　that　shabby。
　　　Best　of　all；　so　was　Ivan；　wearing　the　same　clothes　that　he'd　worn　on　the　metro。　Maybe　his　best　suit？　Foley　wondered。　If　so；　he'd　better　get　his　ass　to　a　Western　country　as　soon　as　possible。
　　　Other　than　the　at…best…mediocre　quality　of　the　goods　here；　a　department　store　was　a　department　store；　though　here　the　departments　were　semi…independent　shops。　But　their　Ivan　was　smart。　He'd　suggested　a　meet　in　a　part　of　the　place　where　there　would　certainly　be　high…quality　goods。　For　millennia；　Russia　had　been　a　place　of　cold　winters；　a　place　where　even　the　elephants　had　needed　fur　coats；　and　since　25　percent　of　the　human　blood　supply　goes　to　the　brain；　men　needed　hats。　The　decent　fur　hats　were　called　shapkas；　roughly　tubular　fur　head　coverings　that　had　little　in　the　way　of　precise　shape；　but　did　serve　to　keep　the　brain　from　freezing。　The　really　good　ones　were　made　out　of　muskrat…mink　and　sable　went　only　to　the　most　expensive　specialty　stores；　and　those　were　mainly　limited　to　well…to…do　women；　the　wives　and/or　mistresses　of　Party　bosses。　But　the　noble　muskrat；　a　swamp　creature　that　smelled…well；　the　smell　was　taken　out　of　the　skin　somehow；　lest　the　wearer　of　the　hat　be　mistaken　for　a　tidal　wetland　garbage　dump…had　very　fine　fur　or　hair　or　whatever　it　was；　and　was　a　good　insulator。　So；　fine；　a　rat　with　a　high　R　rating。　But　that　wasn't　the　important　part；　was　it？
　　　Ed　and　Mary　Pat　could　also　municate　with　their　eyes；　though　the　bandwidth　was　pretty　narrow。　The　time　of　day　helped。　The　winter　hats　had　just　been　stocked　in　the　store；　and　the　fall　weather　didn't　have　people　racing　to　buy　new　ones　yet。　There　was　just　one　guy　in　a　brown　jacket；　and　Mary　Pat　moved　in　that　direction；　after　shooing　her　husband　away；　as　though　to　buy　him　something　as　a　semi…surprise。
　　　The　man　was　shopping；　just　as　she　was；　and　he　was　in　the　hat　department。　He's　not　a　dummy；　whoever　he　is；　she　thought。
　　　〃Excuse　me；〃　she　said　in　Russian。
　　　〃Yes？〃　His　head　turned。　Mary　Pat　checked　him　out；　he　was　in　his　early　thirties；　but　looked　older　than　that；　as　life　in　Russia　tended　to　age　people　more　rapidly；　even　more　rapidly　than　New　York　City。　Brown　hair；　brown　eyes…rather　smart…looking　in　the　eyes。　That　was　good。
　　　〃I　am　shopping　for　a　winter　hat　for　my　husband；　as　you　suggested；〃　she　added　in　her　very　best　Russian；　〃on　the　metro。〃
　　　He　didn't　expect　it　to　be　a　girl；　Mrs。　Foley　saw　at　once。　He　blinked　hard　and　looked　at　her；　trying　to　square　the　perfect　Russian　with　the　fact　that　she　had　to　be　an　American。
　　　〃On　the　metro？〃
　　　〃That's　right。　My　husband　thought　it　better　that　I　should　meet　you；　rather　than　he。　So。。。〃　She　lifted　a　hat　and　riffled　the　fur；　then　turned　to　her　new　friend；　as　though　asking　his　opinion。　〃So；　what　do　you　wish　of　us？〃
　　　〃What　do　you　mean？〃　he　blurted　back　at　her。
　　　〃You　have　approached　an　American　and　requested　a　meeting。　Do　you　want　to　assist　me　in　buying　a　hat　for　my　husband？〃　she　asked　very　quietly　indeed。
　　　〃You　are　CIA？〃　he　asked；　his　thought　now　back　under　semicontrol。
　　　〃My　husband　and　I　work　for　the　American　government；　yes。　And　you　work　for　KGB。〃
　　　〃Yes；〃　he　replied；　〃in　munications；　Central　munications。〃
　　　〃Indeed？〃　She　turned　back　to　the　gable　and　lifted　another　shapka。　Holy　shit；　she　thought；　but　was　he　telling　the　truth；　or　did　he　just　want　a　cheap　ticket　to　New　York？
　　　〃Really？　How　can　I　be　sure　of　that？〃
　　　〃I　say　it　is　so；〃　he　replied；　surprised　and　slightly　outraged　that　his　honesty　should　e　into　question。　Did　this　woman　think　he　was　risking　his　life　as　a　lark？　〃Why　do　you　talk　to　me？〃
　　　〃The　message　blanks　you　passed　on　the　metro　did　get　my　attention；〃　she　said；　holding　up　a　dark　brown　hat　and　frowning；　as　though　it　were　too　dark。
　　　〃Madam；　I　work　in　the　Eighth　Chief　Directorate。〃
　　　〃Which　department？〃
　　　〃Simple　munications　processing。　I　am　not　part　of　the　signals　intelligence　service。　I　am　a　munications　officer。　I　transmit　outgoing　signals　to　the　various　rezidenturas；　and　when　signals　e　to　my　desk　from　out　in　the　field；　I　forward　them　to　the　proper　recipients。　As　a　result；　I　see　many　operational　signals。　Is　that　sufficient　to　your　purpose？　〃　He　was　at　least　playing　the　game　properly；　gesturing　to　the　shapka　and　shaking　his　head；　then　pointing　to　another；　its　fur　dyed　a　lighter　brown；　almost　a　blond　color。
　　　〃I　suppose　it　might　be。　What　do　you　ask　of　us？〃
　　　〃I　have　information　of　great　importance…very　great　importance。　In　return　for　that　information；　I　require　passage　to　the　West　for　myself；　my　wife；　and　my　daughter。〃
　　　〃How　old　is　your　daughter？〃
　　　〃Three　years　and　seven　months。　Can　you　deliver　what　I　require？〃
　　　That　question　shot　a　full　pint　of　adrenaline　into　her　bloodstream。　She'd　have　to　make　this　decision　almost　instantly；　and　with　that　decision　she　was　mitting　the　whole　power　of　CIA　onto　a　single　case。　Getting　three　people　out　of　the　Soviet　Union　was　not　going　to　be　a　picnic。
　　　But　this　guy　works　in　MERCURY；　Mary　Pat　realized。　He'd　know　things　a　hundred　well…placed　agents　couldn't　get　to。　Ivan　here　was　custodian　of　the　Russian　Crown　Jewels；　more　valuable　even　than　Brezhnev's　balls；　and　so…
　　　〃Yes；　we　can　get　you　and　your　family　out。　How　soon？〃
　　　〃The　information　I　have　is　very　time…sensitive。　As　soon　as　you　can　arrange。　I　will　not　reveal　my　information　until　I　am　in　the　West；　but　I　assure　you　the　information　is　a　matter　of　great　importance…it　is　enough　to　force　me　into　this　action；〃　he　added　as　an　additional　dangle。
　　　Don't　overplay　your　hand；　Ivan；　she　thought。　An　ego…driven　agent　would　tell　them　he　had　the　launch　codes　for　the　Russian　Strategic　Rocket　Forces；　when　he　just　had　his　mother's　recipe　for　borscht；　and　getting　the　bastard　out　would　be　a　waste　of　resources　that　had　to　be　used　with　the　greatest　care。　But；　against　that　possibility；　Mary　Pat　had　her　eyes。　She　looked　into　this　man's　soul；　and　saw　that　whatever　he　was；　〃liar〃　probably　wasn't　among　them。
　　　〃Yes；　we　can　do　this　very　quickly　if　necessary。　We　need　to　discuss　place　and　methods。　We　cannot　talk　any　longer　here。　I　suggest　a　meeting　place　to　discuss　details。〃
　　　〃That　is　simple；〃　Zaitzev　replied；　setting　the　place　for　the　following　morning。
　　　You're　in　a　hurry。　〃What　name　do　I　call　you？〃　she　finally　asked。
　　　〃Oleg　Ivan'ch；〃　he　answered　automatically；　then　realized　he'd　spoken　the　truth；　in　a　situation　where　dissimulation　might　have　served　him　better。
　　　〃That　is　good。　My　name　is　Maria；〃　she　replied。　〃So；　which　shapka　would　you　remend？〃
　　　〃For　your　husband？　This　one；　certainly；〃　Zaitzev　said；　handing　over　the　dirty…blond　one。
　　　〃Then　I　shall　buy　it。　Thank　you；　rade。〃　She　fussed　over　the　hat　briefly；　then　walked　off；　checking　the　price　tag；　180　rubles；　more　than　a　month's　pay　for　a　Moscow　worker。　To　effect　the　purchase；　she　handed　the　shapka　over　to　one　clerk；　then　walked　to　a　cash　register；　where　she　paid　her　cash…the　Soviets　hadn't　discovered　credit　cards　yet…and　got　a　receipt　in　return；　which　she　handed　to　the　first　clerk；　who　gave　her　the　hat　back。
　　　So；　it　was　true…the　Russians　really　were　more　inefficient　than　the　American　government。　Amazing　that　it　was　possible；　but　seeing　was　believing；　she　told　herself；　clutching　the　brown…paper　bag　and　finding　her　husband；　whom　she　quickly　walked　outside。
　　　〃So；　what　did　you　buy　me？〃
　　　〃Something　you'll　like；〃　she　promised；　holding　up　the　bag；　but　her　sparkling　blue　eyes　said　it　all。　Then　she　checked　her　watch。　It　was　just　3：00　A。M。　in　Washington　and；　if　they　phoned　this　one　in；　it　was　too　early。　This　wasn't　something　for　the　night　crew；　even　the　trusted　people　in　MERCURY。　She'd　just　learned　that　one　the　hard　way。　No；　this　one　would　get　written　up；　encrypted；　and　put　in　the　diplomatic　bag。　Then　it　was　jus