tc.redrabbit-第106章

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　　　〃It　figures　they'd　use　the　Bulgars；〃　Ritter　observed。　〃They're　the　Eastern　Bloc's　Murder　Incorporated；　but　they're　still　munists；　and　they're　chess　players；　not　high…noon　types。　But　we　still　haven't　figured　out　how　to　warn　the　Vatican。　Can　we　talk　to　the　Nuncio　about　this？〃
　　　They'd　all　had　a　little　time　to　think　through　that　question；　and　now　it　was　time　to　face　it　again。　The　Papal　Nuncio　was　the　Vatican's　ambassador　to　the　United　States；　Giovanni　Cardinal　Sabatino。　Sabatino　was　a　longtime　member　of　the　Pope's　own　diplomatic　service　and　was　well　regarded　by　the　State　Department's　career　foreign…service　officers；　both　for　his　sagacity　and　his　discretion。
　　　〃Can　we　do　it　in　such　a　way　as　not　to　promise　the　source？〃　Greer　wondered。
　　　〃We　can　say　some　Bulgarian　talked　too　much…〃
　　　〃Pick　that　fictional　source　carefully；　Judge；〃　Ritter　warned。　〃Remember；　the　DS　has　that　special　subunit。　It　reports　directly　to　their　Politburo；　and　they　don't　write　much　down；　according　to　what　sources　we　have　over　there。　Kinda　like　the　mie　version　of　Albert　Anastasia。　This　Strokov　guy　is　one　of　them；　or　so　we　have　heard。〃
　　　〃We　could　say　their　party　chairman　talked　to　a　mistress。　He　has　a　few；〃　Greer　suggested。　The　Director　of　Intelligence　had　all　manner　of　information　on　the　intimate　habits　of　world　leaders；　and　the　Bulgarian　party　boss　was　a　man　of　the　people　in　the　most　immediate　of　senses。　Of　course；　if　this　ever　leaked；　life　might　get　difficult　for　the　women　in　question；　but　adultery　had　its　price；　and　the　Bulgarian　chairman　was　such　a　copious　drinker　that　he　might　not　remember　to　whom　he'd　（never）　said　what　would　be　attributed　to　him。　That　might　serve　to　salve　their　consciences　a　little。　〃Sounds　plausible；〃　Ritter　opined。　〃When　could　we　see　the　Nuncio？〃　Moore　asked。　〃Middle　of　the　week；　maybe？〃　Ritter　suggested　again。　They　all　had　a　full　week　before　them。　The　Judge　would　be　on　The　Hill　doing　budget　business　until　Wednesday　morning。
　　　〃Where？〃　They　couldn't　bring　him　here；　after　all。　The　churchman　wouldn't　e。　Too　much　potential　unpleasantness　if　anyone　noticed。　And　Judge　Moore　couldn't　go　to　the　Nuncio。　His　face；　also；　was　too　well　known　by　the　Washington　establishment。
　　　〃Foggy　Bottom；〃　Greer　thought　out　loud。　Moore　went　to　see　the　Secretary　of　State　often　enough；　and　the　Nuncio　wasn't　exactly　a　stranger　there。
　　　〃That'll　work；〃　the　DCI　decided。　〃Let's　get　it　set　up。〃　Moore　stretched。　He　hated　having　to　do　work　on　a　Sunday。　Even　a　judge　of　the　appeals　court　got　weekends　off。
　　　〃There's　still　the　issue　of　what　they　can　actually　do　with　the　information；〃　Ritter　warned　them。　〃What　is　Basil　doing？〃
　　　〃He's　got　his　Rome　Station　rooting　around；　only　five　of　them；　but　he's　going　to　send　some　more　troops　from　London　tomorrow　just　in　case　they　try　to　make　their　hit　on　Wednesday…that's　when　His　Holiness　appears　in　public。　I　gather　he　has　a　pretty　busy　work　schedule；　too。〃
　　　〃Shame　he　can't　call　off　the　ride　around　the　plaza；　but　I　guess　he　wouldn't　listen　if　anybody　asked。〃
　　　〃Not　hardly；〃　Moore　agreed。　He　didn't　bring　up　the　word　from　Sir　Basil　that　Ryan　had　been　dispatched　to　Rome。　Ritter　would　just　throw　another　conniption　fit；　and　Moore　wasn't　up　to　that　on　a　Sunday。
　　　Ryan　arose　early；　as　usual；　had　his　breakfast；　and　caught　a　taxi　to　St。　Peter's。　It　was　good　to　walk　around　the　square…which　was　almost　entirely　round；　of　course…just　to　stretch　his　legs。　It　seemed　odd　that　here；　inside　the　capital　of　the　Italian　Republic；　was　a　titularly　sovereign　state　whose　official　language　was　Latin。　He　wondered　if　the　Caesars　would　have　liked　that　or　not；　the　last　home　of　their　language　also　being　the　home　of　the　agency　that　had　brought　down　their　world…spanning　empire；　but　he　couldn't　go　to　the　Forum　to　ask　whatever　ghosts　lived　there。
　　　The　church　manded　his　attention。　There　were　no　words　for　something　that　large。　The　funds　to　build　it　had　necessitated　the　indulgence　selling　that　had　sparked　Martin　Luther　to　post　his　protest　on　the　cathedral　door　and　so　start　the　Reformation；　something　the　nuns　at　St。　Matthew's　had　not　approved　of；　but　for　which　the　Jesuits　of　his　later　life　had　taken　rather　a　broader　view。　The　Society　of　Jesus　also　owed　its　existence　to　the　Reformation…they'd　been　founded　to　fight　against　it。
　　　That　didn't　much　matter　at　the　moment。　The　basilica　beggared　description；　and　it　seemed　a　fit　headquarters　for　the　Roman　Catholic　Church。　He　walked　in　and　saw　that；　if　anything；　the　interior　seemed　even　more　vast　than　the　outside。　You　could　play　a　football　game　in　there。　A　good　hundred　yards　away　was　the　main　altar；　reserved　for　use　by　the　Pope　himself；　under　which　was　the　crypt　where　former　popes　were　buried；　including；　tradition　had　it；　Simon　Peter　himself。　〃Thou　art　Peter；〃　Jesus　was　quoted　in　the　Gospel；　〃and　upon　this　rock　I　shall　build　my　church。〃　Well；　with　the　help　of　some　architects　and　what　must　have　been　an　army　of　workers；　they'd　certainly　built　a　church　here。　Jack　felt　drawn　into　it　as　though　it　were　God's　own　personal　house。　The　cathedral　in　Baltimore　would　scarcely　have　been　an　alcove　here。　Looking　around；　he　saw　the　tourists；　also　staring　at　the　ceiling　with　open　mouths。　How　had　they　built　this　place　without　structural　steel？　Jack　wondered。　It　was　all　stone　resting　on　stone。　Those　old　guys　really　knew　their　stuff；　Ryan　reflected。　The　sons　of　those　engineers　now　worked　for　Boeing　or　NASA。　He　spent　a　total　of　twenty　minutes　walking　around；　then　reminded　himself　that　he　wasn't；　after　all；　a　tourist。
　　　This　had　once　been　the　site　of　the　original　Roman　Circus　Maximus。　The　big　racetrack　for　chariots；　like　those　in　the　movie　Ben…Hur；　had　then　been　torn　down　and　a　church　built　here；　the　original　St。　Peter's；　but　over　time　that　church　had　deteriorated；　and　so　a　century…plus…long　project　to　build　this　one　had　been　undertaken　and　was　finished　in　the　sixteenth　century；　Ryan　remembered。　He　went　back　outside　to　survey　the　area　once　again。　Much　as　he　looked　for　alternatives；　it　seemed　that　his　first　impression　had　been　the　correct　one。　The　Pope　got　in　his　car　there；　drove　around　that　way；　and　the　place　of　greatest　vulnerability　was。。。　right　about　there。　The　problem　was　that　there　was　a　semicircular　space　perhaps　two　hundred　yards　long。
　　　Okay；　he　thought；　time　to　do　some　analysis。　The　shooter　would　be　a　pro。　A　pro　would　have　two　considerations：　one；　getting　a　good　shot　off；　and　two；　getting　the　hell　out　of　here　alive。
　　　So　Ryan　turned　to　see　potential　exit　routes。　To　the　left；　closest　to　the　facade　of　the　church；　people　would　really　pile　up　there　in　their　desire　to　get　the　first　look　at　the　Pope　as　he　came　out。　Farther　down；　the　open　vehicle　path　widened　somewhat；　increasing　the　range　of　the　shot…something　to　be　avoided。　But　the　shooter　still　needed　to　get　his　ass　out　of　Dodge　City；　and　the　best　way　to　do　that　was　toward　the　side　street　where　Sharp　had　parked　the　day　before。　You　could　stash　a　car　there；　probably；　and　if　you　made　it　that　far；　you'd　go　pedal…to…the…metal　and　race　the　hell　off　to　wherever　you　had　a　backup　car　parked…a　backup；　because　the　cops　would　sure　as　hell　be　looking　for　the　first　one；　and　Rome　had　a　goodly　supply　of　police　officers　who'd　run　through　fire　to　catch　whoever　had　popped　a　cap　on　the　Pope。
　　　Back　to　the　shooting　place。　He　wouldn't　want　to　be　in　the　thickest　part　of　the　crowd；　so　he　wouldn't　want　to　be　too　close　to　the　church。　But　he'd　want　to　boogie　out　through　that　arch。　Maybe　sixty　or　seventy　yards。　Ten　seconds；　maybe？　With　a　clear　path；　yeah；　about　that。　Double　it；　just　to　be　sure。　He'd　probably　yell　something　like　〃There　he　goes！〃　as　a　distraction。　It　might　make　him　easier　to　identify　later；　but　Colonel　Strokov　will　be　figuring　to　sleep　Wednesday　night　in　Sofia。　Check　flight　times；　Jack　told　himself。　If　he　takes　the　shot　and　gets　away；　he　won't　be　swimming　home；　will　he？　No；　he'll　opt　for　the　fastest　way　out…unless　he　has　a　really　deep　hidey…hole　here　in　Rome。
　　　That　was　a　possibility。　The　problem　was　that　he　was　dealing　with　an　experienced　field　spook；　and　he　could　have　a　lot　of　things　planned。　But　this　was　reality；　not　a　movie；　and　professionals　kept　things　simple；　because　even　the　simplest　things　could　go　to　shit　in　the　real　world。
　　　He'll　have　at　least　one　backup　plan。　Maybe　more；　but　sure　as　hell　he'll　have　one。
　　　Dress　up　like　a　priest；　maybe？　There　were　a　lot　of　them　in　evidence。　Nuns；　too…more　than　Ryan　had　ever　seen。　How　tall　is　Strokov？　Anything　over　five…eight　and　he'd　be　too　tall　for　a　nun。　But　if　he　dressed　as　a　priest；　you　could　hide　a　fucking　RPG　in　a　cassock。　That　was　a　pleasant　thought。　But　how　fast　could　one　run　in　a　cassock？　That　was　a　possible　downside。
　　　You　have　to　assume　a　pistol；　probably　a　suppressed　pistol。　A　rifle…no；　its　dangers　lay　in　its　virtues。　It　was　so　long　that　the　guy　standing　next　to　him　could　bat　the　barrel　off　target；　and　he'd　never　get　a　good　round　off。　An　AK…47；　maybe；　able　to　go　rock…and…roll？　But；　no；　it　was　only　in　the　movies　that　people　fired　machine　guns　from　the　hip。　Ryan　had　tried　it　with　his　M…16　at　Quantico。　It　felt　real　John　Wayne；　but　you　just　couldn't　hit　shit　that　way。　The　sights；　the　gunnery　sergeants　had　all　told　his　class　at　the　Basic　School；　are　there　for　a　reason。　Like　Wyatt　Earp　shooting　on　TV…draw　and　fire　from　the　hip。　It　just　didn't　work　unless　your　other　hand　was　on　the　fucker's　shoulder。　The　sights　are　there　for　a　reason；　to　tell　you　where　the　weapon　is　pointed；　because　the　bullet　you're　shooting　is　about　a　third　of　an　inch　in　diameter；　and　you　are；　in　fact；　shooting　at　a　target　just　that　small；　and　a　hiccup　could　jerk　you　off　target；　and　under　stress　your　aim　just　gets　worse　。。。　unless　you're　used　to　the　idea　of　killing　people。　Like　Boris　Strokov；　colonel　of　the　Dirzhavna　Sugurnost。　What　if　he　was　one　of　those　who　just　didn't　rattle；　like　Audie　Murphy　of　the　Third　Infantry　Division　in　WWII？　But　how　many　people　like　that　were　around？　Murphy　had　been　one　in　eight　million　American　soldiers；　and　nobody　had　seen　that　deadly　quality　in　him　before　it　just　popped　out　on　the　battlefield；　probably　surprising　even　him。　Murphy　himself　probably　never　appreciated　how　different　he　was　from　everybody　else。
　　　Strokov　is　a　pro；　Jack　reminded　himself。　And　so　he'll　act　like　a　pro。　He'll　plan　every　detail；　especially　the　getaway。
　　　〃You　must　be　Ryan；〃　a　British　voice　said　quietly。　Jack　turned　to　see　a　pale　man　with　red　hair。
　　　〃Who　are　you？〃
　　　〃Mick　King；〃　the　man　replied。　〃Sir　Basil　sent　the　four　of　us　down。　Sussing　the　area　out？〃
　　　〃How　obvious　am　I？〃　Ryan　worried　suddenly。
　　　〃You　could　well　be　an　architecture　student。〃　King　blew　it　off。　〃What　do　you　think？〃
　　　〃I　think　the　shooter　would　stand　right　about　here；　and　try　to　boogie　on　out　that　way；〃　Jack　said；　pointing。　King　looked　around　before　speaking。
　　　〃It's　a　dicey　proposition；　however　one　plans　it；　with　all　the　people　sure　to　be　here；　but；　yes；　that　does　look　the　most　promising　option；〃　the　spook　agreed。
　　　〃If　I　were　planning　to　do　it　myself；　I'd　want　to　use　a　rifle　from　up　there。　We'll　need　to　have　somebody　topside　to　handle　that　possibility。〃
　　　〃Agreed。　I'll　have　John　Sparrow　go　up　there。　The　chap　with　short　hair　over　there。　He　brought　a　ton　of　cameras　with　him。〃
　　　〃One　more　man　to　camp　out　in　the　street　that　way。　Our　bird　will　probably　have　a　car　to　skip　town　with；