tc.redrabbit-第6章

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　　　〃You　really　think　so；　Bob？〃　the　DDI　asked。
　　　〃I　don't　think　it…I　damned　well　know　it！〃　the　DDO　shot　back。　〃They　are　vulnerable；　and　best　of　all；　they　don't　yet　know　that　they　are　vulnerable。　It's　time　to　do　something。　We've　got　a　President　now　who'll　back　our　play　if　we　can　e　up　with　something　good　enough　for　him　to　invest　his　political　capital。　Congress　is　so　afraid　of　him；　they　won't　stand　in　the　way。〃
　　　〃Robert；〃　the　DCI　said；　〃it　sounds　to　me　like　you've　got　something　rattling　up　your　sleeve。〃
　　　Ritter　thought　for　a　few　seconds　before　going　on。　〃Yes；　Arthur；　I　do。　I've　been　thinking　about　this　since　they　brought　me　in　from　the　field　eleven　years　ago。　I　haven't　written　a　single　word　of　it　down。〃　He　didn't　have　to　explain　why。　Congress　could　subpoena　any　piece　of　paper　in　the　building…well；　almost　any　piece…but　not　something　carried　only　in　a　man's　mind。　But　perhaps　this　was　the　time　to　set　it　down。　〃What　is　the　Soviets'　fondest　wish？〃
　　　〃To　bring　us　down；〃　Moore　answered。　That　didn't　exactly　require　a　Nobel…class　intellect。
　　　〃Okay；　what　is　our　fondest　wish？〃
　　　Greer　took　that　one。　〃We　aren't　allowed　to　think　in　those　terms。　We　want　to　find　a　modus　vivendi　with　them。〃　That　was　what　The　New　York　Times　said；　anyway；　and　wasn't　that　the　voice　of　the　nation？　〃Okay；　Bob。　Spit　it　out。〃
　　　〃How　do　we　attack　them？〃　Ritter　asked。　〃And　by　that　I　mean　nail　the　bastards　right　where　they　live；　hurt　them…〃
　　　〃Bring　them　down？〃　Moore　asked。
　　　〃Why　the　hell　not？〃　Ritter　demanded。
　　　〃Is　it　possible？〃　the　DCI　asked；　interested　that　Ritter　was　thinking　along　such　lines。
　　　〃Well；　Arthur；　if　they　can　aim　that　big　a　gun　at　us；　why　can't　we　do　it　to　them？〃　Ritter　had　the　bit　in　his　teeth　now。　〃They　send　money　into　political　groups　in　our　country　to　try　and　make　it　hard　on　our　political　process。　They　have　antinuclear　demonstrations　all　across　Europe；　calling　to　eliminate　our　Theater　Nuclear　Weapons　while　they　rebuild　theirs。　We　can't　even　leak　what　we　know　about　that　to　the　media…〃
　　　〃And　if　we　did；　the　media　wouldn't　print　it；〃　Moore　observed。　After　all；　the　media　didn't　like　nuclear　weapons　either；　though　it　was　willing　to　tolerate　Soviet　weapons　because　they；　for　one　reason　or　another；　were　not　destabilizing。　What　Ritter　really　wanted　to　do；　he　feared；　was　to　see　if　the　Soviets　had　influence　on　the　American　mass　media。　But　even　if　it　did；　such　an　investigation　would　bear　only　poisoned　fruit。　The　media　held　on　to　their　vision　of　its　integrity　and　balance　as　a　miser　held　his　hoard。　But　they　knew　without　having　the　evidence　that　KGB　did　have　some　power　over　the　American　media；　because　it　was　so　easy　to　establish　and　exercise。　Flatter　them；　let　them　in　on　supposed　secrets；　and　then　bee　a　trusted　source。　But　did　the　Soviets　know　how　dangerous　a　game　that　could　be？　The　American　news　media　did　have　a　few　core　beliefs；　and　tampering　with　them　was　like　tinkering　with　a　live　bomb。　One　wrong　move　could　be　expensive。　No　one　in　this　Seventh…Floor　office　was　under　much　illusion　about　the　genius　of　the　Russian　intelligence　service。　It　had　skilled　people；　certainly；　and　trained　them　thoroughly　and　well；　but　KGB　also　had　its　weaknesses。　Like　the　society　it　served；　KGB　applied　a　political　template　to　reality；　and　largely　ignored　the　information　that　didn't　match　up　with　the　holes。　And　so；　after　months；　even　years；　of　painstaking　planning　and　preparation；　they　often　had　operations　go　bad　because　one　of　their　officers　had　decided　that　life　in　the　land　of　the　enemy　wasn't　quite　so　bad　as　it　was　portrayed。　The　cure　for　a　lie　was　always　the　truth。　It　just　had　a　way　of　smacking　you　in　the　face；　and　the　smarter　you　were；　the　worse　it　hurt。
　　　〃That's　not　important；〃　Ritter　said；　surprising　both　his　colleagues。
　　　〃Okay；　keep　going；〃　Moore　ordered。
　　　〃What　we　need　to　do　is　examine　their　vulnerabilities　and　attack　them…with　the　objective　of　destabilizing　their　entire　country。〃
　　　〃That's　a　very　tall　order；　Robert；〃　Moore　observed。
　　　〃You　take　an　ambition　pill；　Bob？〃　Greer　asked；　intrigued　even　so。　〃Our　political　masters　will　blanch　at　that　large　an　objective。〃
　　　〃Oh；　I　know。〃　Ritter　held　up　his　hands。　〃Oh；　no；　we　mustn't　hurt　them。　They　might　nuke　us。　e　on；　they're　a　hell　of　a　lot　less　likely　to　lash　out　than　we　are。　People；　they　are　afraid　of　us；　a　lot　more　than　we　are　of　them。
　　　They　are　afraid　of　Poland；　for　Christ's　sake。　Why？　Because　there's　a　disease　in　Poland　that　their　own　people　might　catch。　It's　called　rising　expectations。　And　rising　expectations　are　the　one　thing　they　can't　satisfy。　Their　economy　is　as　stagnant　as　stump　water。　If　we　give　them　a　little　push。。。〃
　　　〃'All　we　have　to　do　is　kick　in　the　door；　and　the　whole　rotten　structure　will　collapse；'　〃　Moore　quoted。　〃That's　been　said　before；　but　Adolf　had　himself　a　nasty　little　surprise　when　the　snow　started　falling。〃
　　　〃He　was　an　idiot　who　didn't　read　his　Machiavelli；〃　Ritter　retorted。　〃First；　you　conquer　'em；　then　you　murder　'em。　Why　give　them　warning？〃
　　　〃Whereas　our　current　adversaries　could　have　taught　old　Niccolo　a　lesson　or　two；〃　Greer　agreed。　〃Okay；　Bob；　exactly　what　do　you　propose？〃
　　　〃A　systematic　examination　of　Soviet　weaknesses　with　an　eye　to　exploitation。　In　simplest　terms；　we　investigate　the　possible　shape　of　a　plan　to　cause　great　disfort　to　our　enemy。〃
　　　〃Hell；　we　ought　to　be　doing　that　all　the　time　anyway；〃　Moore　said；　agreeing　at　once　with　the　concept。　〃James？〃
　　　〃I　have　no　problem　with　it。　I　can　get　a　team　together　in　my　shop　to　toss　some　ideas　together。〃
　　　〃Not　the　usual　suspects；〃　the　DDO　urged。　〃We'll　never　get　anything　useful　from　the　regular　crew。　It's　time　to　think　way　the　hell　outside　the　usual　box。〃
　　　Greer　thought　about　that　for　a　moment；　then　nodded　agreement。　〃Okay；　I'll　do　the　picking。　Special　project。　Pick　a　name　for　it？〃
　　　〃How　about　INFECTION？〃　Ritter　asked。
　　　〃And　if　it　turns　into　an　operation；　call　it　PLAGUE？〃　the　DDI　asked　with　a　laugh。
　　　Moore　shared　in　the　chuckle。　〃No；　I've　got　it。　MASQUE　OF　THE　RED　DEATH。　Something　from　Poe　sounds　about　right　to　me。〃
　　　〃This　is　really　about　having　the　DO　take　over　the　DI；　isn't　it？〃　Greer　thought　aloud。
　　　It　wasn't　a　serious　undertaking　yet；　just　an　interesting　academic　exercise；　the　same　way　a　corporate　trader　might　look　into　the　fundamental　strengths　and　weaknesses　of　a　pany　he　might　want　to　take　over。。。　and　then；　if　the　circumstances　justified；　break　it　up　for　parts。　No；　the　Union　of　Soviet　Socialist　Republics　was　the　center　of　their　professional　world；　the　Bobby　Lee　to　their　Army　of　the　Potomac；　the　New　York　Yankees　to　their　Boston　Red　Sox。　Defeating　them；　however　attractive　a　dream　it　might　be；　was　little　more　than　that；　a　dream。
　　　Even　so；　Judge　Arthur　Moore　approved　of　that　sort　of　thinking。　If　man's　reach　didn't　exceed　his　grasp；　then　what　the　hell　was　heaven　for？
　　　Approaching　twenty…three　hours　in　Moscow；　Andropov　was　enjoying　a　cigarette…an　American　Marlboro；　in　fact…and　sipping　at　his　vodka；　the　premium　Starka　brand；　which　was　brown　like　American　bourbon。　On　the　record　player　was　another　American　product；　an　LP　of　Louis　Armstrong　on　the　trumpet；　blowing　some　superb　New　Orleans　jazz。　Like　many　Russians；　the　Chairman　of　the　KGB　regarded　blacks　as　little　more　than　monkey　cannibals；　but　the　ones　in　America　had　invented　their　own　fine　art　form。　He　knew　that　he　ought　to　have　been　a　devotee　of　Borodin　or　one　of　the　other　classical　Russian　posers；　but　there　was　just　something　about　the　vitality　of　American　jazz　that　rang　some　sort　of　bell　in　his　mind。　But　the　music　was　merely　an　aid　for　thinking。　Yuriy　Vladimirovich　Andropov　had　heavy　brows　over　his　brown　eyes　and　a　lantern　jaw　suggestive　of　another　ethnic　origin；　but　his　mind　was　entirely　Russian；　which　meant　part　Byzantine；　part　Tartar；　part　Mongol；　and　all　focused　on　achieving　his　own　goals。　Of　these　he　had　many；　but　above　all：　He　wanted　to　be　the　leader　of　his　country。　Someone　had　to　save　it；　and　he　knew　exactly　how　much　it　needed　saving。　One　of　the　advantages　of　being　Chairman　of　the　mittee　for　State　Security　was　that　few　things　were　secret　from　him；　and　this　in　a　society　that　was　replete　with　lies；　where　lies　were　indeed　the　highest　of　art　forms。　This　was　especially　true　of　the　Soviet　economy。　The　mand…driven　structure　of　that　flaccid　colossus　meant　that　every　factory…and　every　factory　manager…had　a　production　goal　that　both　it　and　he　had　to　meet。　The　goals　might　or　might　not　be　realistic。　That　didn't　matter。　What　did　matter　was　that　their　enforcement　was　draconian。　Not　as　draconian　as　they'd　once　been；　of　course。　In　the　1930s　and　'40s；　failure　to　meet　the　goal　set　forth　in　The　Plan　could　mean　death　right　here　in　this　very　building；　because　those　who　failed　to　meet　The　Plan　were　〃wreckers；〃　saboteurs；　enemies　of　the　state；　traitors　in　a　nation　where　state　treason　was　a　crime　worse　than　any　other；　and　so　demanded　a　penalty　worse　than　any　other；　usually　a　。44…caliber　bullet　from　one　of　the　old　Smith　&　Wesson　revolvers　the　czars　had　purchased　from　America。
　　　As　a　result；　factory　managers　had　learned　that　if　they　couldn't　meet　The　Plan's　expectations　in　fact；　they'd　do　so　on　paper；　thus　prolonging　both　their　lives　and　the　perks　of　their　office。　The　facts　of　their　failure　were　usually　lost　in　the　elephantine　bureaucracy　that　had　been　inherited　from　the　czars　and　then　nurtured　to　further　growth　under　Marxism…Leninism。　His　own　agency　had　a　lot　of　that　same　tendency；　Andropov　knew。　He　could　say　something；　even　thunder　out　the　words；　but　that　didn't　mean　that　any　real　result　had　to　happen。　Sometimes　it　did…indeed；　fairly　often　of　late；　because　Yuriy　Vladimirovich　kept　his　own　personal　notes　and　would　follow　up　a　week　or　so　later。　And；　gradually；　his　agency　was　learning　to　change。
　　　But　there　was　no　changing　the　fact　that　obfuscation　was　the　foil　of　even　his　brand　of　ruthlessness。　Even　Stalin　reborn　could　not　change　that…and　nobody　wanted　Stalin　reborn。　Institutional　obfuscation　had　reached　all　the　way　to　the　summit　of　the　Party　hierarchy。　The　Politburo　was　no　more　decisive　than　the　management　staff　of　State　Farm　〃Sunrise。〃　No　one　had　learned　efficiency；　he'd　observed　on　his　climb　to　the　top　of　the　heap；　and　as　a　result　a　great　deal　happened　with　a　wink　and　a　nod；　with　an　understanding　that　it　really　wasn't　all　that　important。
　　　And　because　so　little　progress　actually　happened；　it　devolved　on　him　and　KGB　to　make　right　all　the　things　that　went　wrong。　If　the　organs　of　the　State　could　not　e　up　with　what　the　State　needed；　then　KGB　had　to　go　steal　it　from　those　who　did　have　it。　Andropov's　spy　agency；　and　its　sister　service；　the　military's　GRU；　stole　all　manner　of　weapons　designs　from　the　West。　They　were　so　efficient；　he　thought　with　a　grunt；　that　Soviet　pilots　occasionally　died　from　the　same　design　defects　that　had　killed　American　pilots　years　before。
　　　And　that　was　the　rub。　However　efficient　KGB　was；　its　most　stirring　successes　merely　guaranteed　that　his　country's　military　was　five　years　behind　the　West　at　best。　And　the　one　thing　he　and　his　field　officers　couldn't　steal　from　the　West　was　the　quality　control　in　their　industries　that　made　advanced　weapons　possible。　How　many　times；　he　wondered；　had　his　people　secured　designs　from　America　and　elsewhere　only　to　learn　that　his　country　simply　could　not　replicate　them？
　　　And　that　was　what　he　had