tc.redstormrising-第6章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


duction　is　also　under…plan；　but　it　is　improving。　We　had　expected　to　exceed　planned　targets　later　this　year。　Here　we　must　also　account　for　the　fact　that　much　of　our　gas　goes　to　Western　Europe。　It　is　from　this　that　we　gain　Western　currency　with　which　to　purchase　foreign　oil；　and；　of　course；　foreign　grain。〃
The　Politburo　member　in　charge　of　agriculture　winced　at　this　reference。　How　many　men；　Sergetov　wondered；　had　been　done　in　by　their　inability　to　make　the　Soviet　agricultural　industry　perform？　Not　the　current　General　Secretary；　of　course；　who　had　somehow　managed　to　advance　despite　his　failures　there。　But　good　Marxists　weren't　supposed　to　believe　in　miracles。　His　elevation　to　the　titular　chairmanship　had　had　its　own　price；　one　which　Sergetov　was　only　beginning　to　understand。
〃So；　what　is　your　solution；　Mikhail　Eduardovich？〃　the　Defense　Minister　inquired　with　unsettling　solicitude。
〃rades；　we　must　bear　this　burden　as　best　we　can；　improving　efficiency　at　every　level　of　our　economy。〃　Sergetov　didn't　bother　talking　about　increasing　imports　of　oil。　The　shortfall　he　had　explained　would　result　in　more　than　a　thirtyfold　increase　in　imports；　and　hard　currency　reserves　would　scarcely　allow　a　doubling　of　foreign　oil　purchases。　〃We　will　need　to　increase　production　and　quality　control　at　the　Barricade　drilling　rig　factory　in　Volgograd；　and　to　purchase　more　drilling　equipment　from　the　West　so　that　we　can　expand　exploration　and　exploitation　of　known　fields。　And　we　need　to　expand　our　construction　of　nuclear　reactor　plants。　To　conserve　what　production　we　do　have；　we　can　restrict　supplies　available　to　trucks　and　personal　automobilesthere　is　much　waste　in　this　sector；　as　we　all　know；　perhaps　as　much　as　a　third　of　total　usage。　We　can　temporarily　reduce　the　amount　of　fuel　consumed　by　the　military；　and　perhaps　also　divert　some　heavy　machine　production　from　military　hardware　to　necessary　industrial　areas。　We　face　three　very　hard　years…but　only　three；〃　Sergetov　summarized　on　an　upbeat　note。
〃rade；　your　experience　in　foreign　and　defense　areas　is　slim；　no？〃　the　Defense　Minister　asked。
〃I　have　never　pretended　otherwise；　rade　Minister；〃　Sergetov　answered　warily。
〃Then　I　will　tell　you　why　this　situation　is　unacceptable。　If　we　do　what　you　suggest；　the　West　will　learn　of　our　crisis。　Increased　purchases　of　oil　production　equipment　and　unconcealable　signs　of　activity　at　Nizhnevartovsk　will　demonstrate　to　them　all　too　clearly　what　is　happening　here。　That　will　make　us　vulnerable　in　their　eyes。　Such　vulnerability　will　be　exploited。　And；　at　the　same　time〃…he　pounded　his　fist　on　the　heavy　oak　table…　〃you　propose　reducing　the　fuel　available　to　the　forces　who　defend　us　against　the　West！〃
〃rade　Defense　Minister；　I　am　an　engineer；　not　a　soldier。　You　asked　me　for　a　technical　evaluation；　and　I　gave　it。〃　Sergetov　kept　his　voice　reasonable。　〃This　situation　is　very　serious；　but　it　does　not；　for　example；　affect　our　Strategic　Rocket　Forces。　Cannot　they　alone　shield　us　against　the　Imperialists　during　our　recovery　period？〃　Why　else　had　they　been　built？　Sergetov　asked　himself　All　that　money　sunk　into　unproductive　holes。　Wasn't　it　enough　to　be　able　to　kill　the　West　ten　times　over？　Why　twenty　times？　And　now　this　wasn't　enough？
〃And　it　has　not　occurred　to　you　that　the　West　will　not　allow　us　to　purchase　what　we　need？〃　the　Party　theoretician　asked。
〃When　have　the　capitalists　refused　to　sell　us…〃
〃When　have　the　capitalists　had　such　a　weapon　to　use　against　us？〃　the　General　Secretary　observed。　〃For　the　first　time；　the　West　has　the　ability　to　strangle　us　in　a　single　year。　What　if　now　they　also　prevent　our　purchase　of　grain？〃
Sergetov　hadn't　considered　that。　With　yet　another　disappointing　grain　harvest；　the　seventh　out　of　the　last　eleven　years；　the　Soviet　Union　needed　to　make　massive　purchases　of　wheat。　And　this　year　America　and　Canada　were　the　only　reliable　sources。　Bad　weather　in　the　Southern　Hemisphere　had　damaged　Argentina's　harvest；　and　to　a　lesser　extent　Australia's；　while　the　U。S。　and　Canada　had　enjoyed　their　customary　record　crops。　Negotiations　were　even　now　under　way　in　Washington　and　Ottawa　to　secure　such　a　purchase；　and　the　Americans　were　making　no　trouble　at　all；　except　that　the　high　value　of　the　dollar　made　their　grain　disproportionately　expensive。　But　that　grain　would　take　months　to　ship。　How　easy　would　it　be；　Sergetov　wondered；　for　〃technical　difficulties〃　in　the　grain　ports　of　New　Orleans　and　Baltimore　to　slow　or　even　stop　shipments　entirely　at　a　crucial　moment？
He　looked　around　the　table。　Twenty…two　men；　of　whom　only　thirteen　really　decided　matters…and　one　of　those　was　missing…were　silently　contemplating　the　prospect　of　over　two　hundred　fifty　million　Soviet　workers　and　peasants；　all　hungry　and　in　the　dark；　at　the　same　time　that　the　troops　of　the　Red　Army；　the　Ministry　of　the　Interior；　and　the　KGB　found　their　own　fuel　supplies…and　because　of　it；　their　training　and　mobility…restricted。
The　men　of　the　Politburo　were　among　the　most　powerful　in　the　world；　far　more　so　than　any　of　their　Western　counterparts。　They　answered　to　no　one；　not　the　Central　mittee　of　the　munist　Party；　not　the　Supreme　Soviet；　certainly　not　the　people　of　their　nation。　These　men　had　not　walked　on　the　streets　of　Moscow　for　years；　but　been　whisked　by　chauffeured；　handmade　cars　to　and　from　their　luxury　apartments　within　Moscow；　or　to　their　ceremonial　dachas　outside　the　city。　They　shopped；　if　at　all；　in　guarded　stores　restricted　to　the　elite；　were　served　by　doctors　in　clinics　established　only　for　the　elite。　Because　of　all　this；　these　men　regarded　themselves　as　masters　of　their　destiny。
It　was　only　now　beginning　to　strike　them　that　like　all　men；　they　too　were　subject　to　a　fate　which　their　immense　personal　power　merely　made　all　the　more　intractable。
Around　them　was　a　country　whose　citizens　were　poorly　fed　and　poorly　housed；　whose　only　abundant　modities　were　the　painted　signs　and　slogans　praising　Soviet　Progress　and　Solidarity。　Some　of　the　men　at　this　table　actually　believed　those　slogans；　Sergetov　knew。　Sometimes　he　still　did；　mainly　in　homage　to　his　idealistic　youth。　But　Soviet　Progress　had　not　fed　their　nation；　and　how　long　would　Soviet　Solidarity　endure　in　the　hearts　of　people　hungry；　cold；　in　the　dark？　Would　they　be　proud　of　the　missiles　in　the　Siberian　forests　then？　Of　the　thousands　of　tanks　and　guns　produced　every　year？　Would　they　then　look　to　the　sky　that　held　a　Salyut　space　station　and　feel　inspired…or　would　they　wonder　what　kind　of　food　was　being　eaten　by　that　elite？　Less　than　a　year　before；　Sergetov　had　been　a　regional　Party　chieftain；　and　in　Leningrad　he　had　been　careful　to　listen　to　his　own　staff　people's　description　of　the　jokes　and　grumblings　in　the　lines　which　people　endured　for　two　loaves　of　bread；　or　toothpaste；　or　shoes。　Detached　even　then　from　the　harsher　realities　of　life　in　the　Soviet　Union；　he　had　often　wondered　if　one　day　the　burden　of　the　ordinary　worker　would　bee　too　heavy　to　endure。　How　would　he　have　known　then？　How　would　he　know　now？　Would　the　older　men　here　ever　know？
Narod；　they　called　it；　a　masculine　noun　that　was　nonetheless　raped　in　every　sense：　the　masses；　the　faceless　collection　of　men　and　women　who　toiled　every　day　in　Moscow　and　throughout　the　nation　in　factories　and　on　collective　farms；　their　thoughts　hidden　behind　unsmiling　masks。　The　members　of　the　Politburo　told　themselves　that　these　workers　and　peasants　did　not　grudge　their　leaders　the　luxuries　that　acpanied　responsibility。　After　all；　life　in　the　country　had　improved　in　measurable　terms。　That　was　the　pact。　But　the　pact　was　about　to　be　broken。　What　might　happen　then？　Nicholas　II　had　not　known。　These　men　did。
The　Defense　Minister　broke　the　silence。　〃We　must　obtain　more　oil。　It　is　as　simple　as　that。　The　alternative　is　a　crippled　economy；　hungry　citizens；　and　reduced　defense　capacity。　The　consequences　of　which　are　not　acceptable。〃
〃We　cannot　purchase　oil；〃　a　candidate　member　pointed　out。
〃Then　we　must　take　it。〃

FORT　MEADE；　MARYLAND
Bob　Toland　frowned　at　his　spice　cake。　I　shouldn't　be　eating　dessert；　the　intelligence　analyst　reminded　himself。　But　the　National　Security　Agency　missary　served　this　only　once　a　week；　and　spice　cake　was　his　favorite；　and　it　was　only　about　two　hundred　calories。　That　was　all。　An　extra　five