tc.redrabbit-第111章

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oking　in　that　general　direction。。。　but　not　quite。。。　why？
　　　But　then　his　right　shoulder　moved　ever　so　slightly。。。　At　the　bottom　of　Ryan's　field　of　view；　his　right　elbow　came　into　view；　meaning　that　his　forearm　was　now　parallel　to　the　ground。
　　　And　then　his　right　foot　moved　back；　ever　so　slightly。　The　man　was　getting　ready　to…
　　　Ryan　pressed　the　muzzle　of　his　pistol　against　the　base　of　his　spine。　He　could　feel　the　vertebrae　of　his　backbone　on　the　muzzle　of　his　Browning。　Jack　saw　his　head　rock　back；　just　a　few　millimeters。　Ryan　leaned　forward　and　rasped　a　whisper　into　his　ear。
　　　〃If　that　gun　in　your　hand　goes　off；　you'll　be　pissing　into　a　diaper　the　rest　of　your　life。　Now；　real　slow；　with　your　fingertips；　hand　it　back　to　me；　or　I　will　shoot　you　where　you　stand。〃
　　　Mission　acplished；　Ryan's　brain　announced。　This　fucker　isn't　going　to　kill　anybody。　Go　ahead；　resist　if　you　want。　Nobody's　that　fast。　His　finger　was　so　tight　on　the　trigger　that　if　Strokov　turned　suddenly；　the　pistol　would　go　off　on　its　own　accord；　and　sever　his　spine　for　all　time　to　e。
　　　The　man　hesitated；　and　surely　his　mind　was　running　at　the　speed　of　light　through　various　options。　There　were　drills　for　what　to　do　when　someone　had　a　gun　in　one's　back；　and　he'd　even　practiced　them　in　his　intelligence　academy；　but　here；　now；　twenty　years　later；　with　a　real　pistol　against　his　spine；　those　lessons　with　play　guns　seemed　a　very　distant　thing；　and　could　he　bat　the　gun　away　so　fast　to　keep　it　from　destroying　a　kidney？　Probably　not。　And　so；　his　right　hand　came　back　just　as　he'd　just　been　told。。。
　　　Ryan　jumped　at　the　sound　of　one…two…three　pistol　shots；　not　fifteen　feet　away。　It　was　the　sort　of　moment　in　which　the　world　stops　its　turning；　hearts　and　lungs　stop　functioning；　and　every　mind　has　an　instant　of　total　clarity。　Jack's　eyes　were　drawn　to　the　sound。　There　was　the　Holy　Father；　and　on　his　snow…white　cassock　was　a　spot　of　red；　the　size　of　a　half…dollar；　in　the　chest；　and　on　his　handsome　face　was　the　shock　of　something　too　fast　for　him　yet　to　feel　the　pain；　but　his　body　was　already　collapsing；　slumping　and　turning　to　the　left；　folding　into　itself　as　he　started　to　go　down。
　　　It　required　all　of　Ryan's　discipline　not　to　squeeze　the　trigger。　His　left　hand　snatched　the　pistol　out　of　his　subject's　hand。
　　　〃Stand　still；　you　motherfucker。　Don't　take　a　step；　don't　turn；　don't　do　anything。　Tom！〃　he　called　loudly。
　　　〃Sparrow；　they　have　him；　they　have　the　gunman。　The　gunman　is　down　on　the　pavement；　must　be　ten　people　on　him。　The　Pope　took　two；　possibly　three；　hits。〃
　　　The　reaction　of　the　crowd　was　almost　binary　in　character。　Those　closest　to　the　shooter　jumped　on　him　like　cats　on　a　single　unlucky　mouse；　and　whoever　the　shooter　was；　he　was　invisible　under　a　mound　of　tourists；　perhaps　ten　feet　from　where　Ryan；　Sharp；　and　Strokov　stood。　The　people　immediately　around　Ryan　were　drawing　away…rather　slowly；　actually。。。
　　　〃Jack；　let's　get　our　friend　away　from　here；　shall　we？〃　And　the　three　men　moved　into　the　escape　arch；　as　Ryan　had　e　to　think　of　it。
　　　〃Sharp　to　all。　We　have　Strokov　with　us。　Leave　the　area　separately　and　rendezvous　at　the　embassy。〃
　　　A　minute　later；　they　were　in　Sharp's　official　Bentley。　Ryan　got　in　back　with　the　Bulgarian。
　　　Strokov　was　clearly　feeling　better　about　things　now。　〃What　is　this？　I　am　member　of　Bulgarian　embassy　and…〃
　　　〃We'll　remember　you　said　that；　old　man。　For　now；　you　are　a　guest　of　Her　Britannic　Majesty's　government。　Now；　be　a　good　chap　and　sit　still；　or　my　friend　will　kill　you。〃
　　　〃Interesting　tool　of　diplomacy；　this。〃　Ryan　lifted　the　gun　he'd　taken　from　Strokov…East　Bloc　issue；　with　a　large　and　awkward　can…type　silencer　screwed　on　the　business　end。　Sure　as　hell　he'd　been　planning　to　shoot　somebody。
　　　But　whom？　Suddenly；　Ryan　wasn't　sure。
　　　〃Tom？〃
　　　〃Yes；　Jack？〃
　　　〃Something　was　more　wrong　than　we　thought。〃
　　　〃I　think　you're　right；〃　Sharp　agreed。　〃But　we　have　someone　to　clear　that　up　for　us。〃
　　　The　drive　back　to　the　embassy　illustrated　what　had　been　to　Ryan　a　hidden　talent。　The　Bentley　had　an　immensely　powerful　engine；　and　Sharp　knew　how　to　use　it；　exploding　away　from　the　Vatican　like　a　drag…racing　top　fuel　eliminator。　The　car　screeched　to　a　halt　in　the　small　parking　lot　next　to　the　embassy；　and　the　three　of　them　went　in　through　a　side　door；　and　from　there　to　the　basement。　With　Ryan　covering；　Sharp　handcuffed　the　Bulgarian　and　sat　him　in　a　wooden　chair。
　　　〃Colonel　Strokov；　you　must　answer　for　Georgiy　Markov；〃　Sharp　told　him。　〃We've　been　after　you　for　some　years　now。〃
　　　Strokov's　eyes　went　as　wide　as　doorknobs。　As　fast　as　the　Bentley　had　gone；　Tom　Sharp's　mind　had　been　driving　faster　still。
　　　〃What　do　you　mean？〃
　　　〃I　mean；　we　have　these　photos　of　you　leaving　Heathrow　Airport　after　killing　our　good　friend　on　Westminster　Bridge。　The　Yard　was　onto　you；　old　boy；　but　you　left　minutes　before　they　got　permission　to　arrest　you。　That's　your　bad　luck。　So；　now；　it　was　our　job　to　arrest　you。　You　will　find　us　rather　less　civilized　that　the　Yard；　Colonel。　You　murdered　a　man　on　British　soil。　Her　Majesty　the　Queen　does　not　approve　of　that　sort　of　thing；　Colonel。〃
　　　〃But…〃
　　　〃Why　are　we　bothering　to　talk　with　this　bastard；　Tom？〃　Ryan　asked；　catching　on。　〃We　have　our　orders；　don't　we？〃
　　　〃Patience；　Jack；　patience。　He's　not　going　anywhere　at　the　moment；　is　he？〃
　　　〃I　want　to　have　a　phone　to　call　my　embassy；〃　Strokov　said…rather　weakly；　Ryan　thought。
　　　〃Next　he'll　want　a　lawyer；〃　Sharp　observed　humorously。　〃Well；　in　London　you　could　have　a　solicitor　to　assist　you；　but　we　are　not　in　London；　are　we；　old　boy？〃
　　　〃And　we　are　not　Scotland　Yard；〃　Jack　added；　taking　his　lead　from　Sharp。　〃I　should　have　just　done　him　at　the　church；　Tom。〃
　　　Sharp　shook　his　head。　〃Too　noisy。　Better　we　just　let　him。。。　disappear；　Jack。　I'm　sure　Georgiy　would　understand。〃
　　　It　was　clear　from　Strokov's　face　that　he　was　not　accustomed　to　having　men　discuss　his　own　fate　in　the　way　that　he　had　so　often　determined　for　himself　the　fates　of　others。　It　was　easier　to　be　brave；　he　was　finding；　when　he　was　the　fellow　holding　the　gun。
　　　〃Well；　I　wasn't　going　to　kill　him；　Tom；　just　sever　his　spine　below　the　waist。　You　know；　put　him　in　a　wheelchair　the　rest　of　his　life；　make　him　as　incontinent　as　a　baby。　How　loyal　you　suppose　his　government　will　be　to　him？〃
　　　Sharp　nearly　gagged　on　the　thought。　〃Loyal；　the　Dirzhavna　Sugurnost　Please；　Jack。　Be　serious。　They'd　just　put　him　in　a　hospital；　probably　a　mental　hospital；　and　they'll　wipe　his　ass　once　or　twice　a　day　if　he's　lucky。〃
　　　That　one　went　through　the　hoop；　Ryan　saw。　None　of　the　East　Bloc　services　were　big　on　loyalty…down；　even　to　those　who'd　shown　a　lot　of　loyalty…up。　And　Strokov　knew　it。　No；　once　you　screwed　the　pooch；　you　were　in　very　deep　shit；　and　your　friends　evaporated　like　the　morning　mist…and　somehow　Strokov　didn't　strike　Ryan　as　one　who　had　all　that　many　friends　anyway。　Even　in　his　own　service　he'd　be　like　an　attack　dog…valuable；　perhaps；　but　not　loved　or　trusted　around　the　kids。
　　　〃In　any　case；　while　Boris　and　I　discuss　the　future；　you　have　a　flight　to　catch；〃　Sharp　told　him。　It　was　just　as　well。　Ryan　was　running　out　of　impromptu　lines。　〃Give　my　regards　to　Sir　Basil；　will　you？〃
　　　〃You　bet；　Tommy。〃　Ryan　left　the　room　and　took　a　deep　breath。　Mick　King　and　the　rest　were　waiting　out　there　for　him。　Someone　at　Sharp's　official　residence　had　packed　his　bags；　and　there　was　an　embassy　minibus　waiting　to　take　them　all　to　the　airport。　There；　a　British　Airways　Boeing　737　was　waiting；　and　they　caught　it　just　in　time；　all　with　first…class　tickets。　Ryan　was　next　to　King　for　the　flight。
　　　〃What　the　hell；〃　Jack　asked；　〃are　we　going　to　do　with　him？〃
　　　〃Strokov？　Good　question；〃　Mick　replied。　〃Are　you　sure　you　want　to　know　the　answer？〃
　　　
　　　CHAPTER　32　…　MASQUED　BALL
　　　On　the　two…hour　flight　back　to　Heathrow；　Ryan　availed　himself　of　three　miniatures　of　single…malt　scotch；　mainly　because　it　was　the　only　hard　stuff　they　had。　Somehow；　his　fear　of　flying　receded　into　the　background…it　helped　that　the　flight　was　so　smooth　that　the　aircraft　might　as　well　have　been　sitting　still　on　the　ground；　but　Ryan　also　had　a　head　full　of　other　thoughts。
　　　〃What　went　wrong；　Mick？〃　Ryan　asked　over　the　Alps。
　　　〃What　went　wrong　was　that　our　friend　Strokov　wasn't　planning　to　do　the　assassination　himself。　He　got　someone　else　to　do　the　actual　shooting。〃
　　　〃Then　why　was　he　carrying　a　pistol　with　a　silencer　on　the　front　end？〃
　　　〃You　want　a　guess？　I'd　wager　he　was　hoping　to　kill　the　assassin　himself　and　then　blend　into　the　crowd　and　make　his　escape。　You　can't　read　everyone's　mind；　Jack；〃　King　added。
　　　〃So；　we　failed；〃　Ryan　concluded。
　　　〃Perhaps。　It　depends　on　where　the　bullets　went。　John　said　there　was　one　hit　in　the　body；　one　perhaps　in　the　hand　or　arm；　and　one　other　that　might　have　gone　wild；　or　at　worst　was　a　peripheral　strike。　So；　whether　the　man　survives　or　not　is　up　to　whatever　surgeon　is　working　on　him　now。〃　King　shrugged。　〃Out　of　our　hands；　my　friend。〃
　　　〃Fuck；〃　Ryan　breathed　quietly。
　　　〃Did　you　do　your　best；　Sir　John？〃
　　　That　snapped　his　head　around。　〃Yes…I　mean；　of　course。　We　all　did。〃
　　　〃And　that　is　all　a　man　can　do；　isn't　it？　Jack；　I've　been　in　the　field　for；　what？　Twelve　years。　Sometimes　things　go　according　to　plan。　Sometimes　they　do　not。　Given　the　information　we　had　and　the　manpower　we　were　able　to　deploy；　I　don't　see　how　we　could　have　done　any　better。　You're　an　analyst；　aren't　you？〃
　　　〃Correct。〃
　　　〃Well；　for　a　desk　boffin；　you　acquitted　yourself　well；　and　now　you　know　a　good　deal　more　about　field　operations。　There　are　no　guarantees　in　this　line　of　work。〃　King　took　another　swallow　of　his　drink。　〃I　can't　say　that　I　like　it；　either。　I　lost　an　agent　in　Moscow　two　years　ago。　He　was　a　young　captain　in　the　Soviet　army。　Seemed　a　decent　sort。　Wife　and　a　young　son。　They　shot　him；　of　course。　Lord　only　knows　what　happened　to　his　family。　Maybe　she's　in　a　labor　camp；　or　maybe　in　some　godforsaken　town　in　Siberia；　for　all　I　know。　You　never　find　that　out；　you　know。　Nameless；　faceless　victims；　but　victims　still。〃
　　　〃The　president　is　pissed；〃　Moore　told　his　senior　executives；　his　right　ear　still　burning　from　a　conversation　ten　minutes　before。
　　　〃That　bad？〃　Greer　asked。
　　　〃That　bad；〃　the　DCI　confirmed。　〃He　wants　to　know　who　did　it　and　why；　and　he'd　prefer　to　know　before　lunch。〃
　　　〃That's　not　possible；〃　Ritter　said。
　　　〃There's　the　phone；　Bob。　You　call　him　and　tell　him　that；〃　the　Judge　suggested。　None　of　them　had　ever　seen　the　President　angry。　It　was；　for　the　most　part；　something　people　tried　to　avoid。
　　　〃So；　Jack　was　right？〃　Greer　offered。
　　　〃He　might　have　made　a　good　guess。　But　he　didn't　stop　it　from　happening；　either；〃　Ritter　observed。
　　　〃Well；　it　gives　you　something　to　say；　Arthur；〃　Greer　said；　with　a　little　hope　in　his　voice。
　　　〃Maybe　so。　I　wonder　how　good　Italian　doctors　are。〃
　　　〃What　do　we　know？〃　Greer　asked。　〃Anything？〃
　　　〃One　serious　bullet　wound　in　the　chest。　The　President　ought　to　be　able　to　identify　with　that；〃　Moore　thought　out　loud。　〃Two　other　hits；　but　not　serious　ones。〃
　　　〃So；　call　Charlie　Weathers　up　at　Harvard　and　ask　him　what　the　likely　prognosis　is。〃　This　was　from　Ritter。
　　　〃The　President's　already　talked　to　the　meatball　surgeons　at　Walter　Reed。　They're　hopeful　but　nonmittal。〃
　　　〃