tc.redrabbit-第65章

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d　a　very　direct　way　of　dealing　with　people　it　didn't　like。　CIA　did　not。　They　hadn't　actually　killed　anyone　since　the　fifties；　when　President　Eisenhower　had　used　CIA…actually　quite　skillfully…as　an　alternative　to　employing　uniformed　troops　in　an　overt　fashion。　But　that　skill　hadn't　been　conveyed　to　the　Kennedy　Administration；　which　had　screwed　up　nearly　everything　it　touched。　Too　many　James　Bond　books；　probably。　Everything　in　fiction　was　simpler　than　the　real　world；　even　fiction　written　by　a　former　field　spook。　In　the　real　world；　zipping　your　zipper　could　be　hard。
　　　But　he　was　planning　a　fairly　plex　operation　and　telling　himself　that　it　wasn't　all　that　plex。　Was　he　making　a　mistake？　Foley's　mind　wandered　while　the　rest　of　his　consciousness　slept。　Even　asleep；　he　kept　going　over　and　over　things。　In　his　dreams；　he　saw　rabbits　running　around　a　green　field　while　foxes　and　bears　watched。　The　predators　didn't　move　on　them；　perhaps　because　they　were　too　fast　and/or　too　close　to　their　rabbit　holes　for　them　to　waste　a　chase。　But　what　happened　when　the　rabbits　got　too　far　away　from　their　holes？　Then　the　foxes　could　catch　them；　and　the　bears　could　move　in　to　swallow　them　whole。。。　And　his　job　was　to　protect　the　little　bunnies；　wasn't　it？
　　　Even　so；　in　his　dream　the　foxes　and　bears　just　watched　while　he；　the　eagle；　circled　high　and　looked　down。　He；　the　eagle；　had　sworn　off　rabbits；　though　a　fox　might　be　a　nice　morsel　to　rip　apart；　if　his　talons　got　it　properly；　just　behind　the　head　to　snap　the　neck；　and　leave　him　for　the　bear　to　eat；　because　bears　didn't　really　care　whom　they　ate。　No；　Mr。　Bear　didn't　care　one　little　bit。　He　was　just　a　big　old　bear；　and　his　belly　was　always　empty。　He'd　even　eat　an　eagle　if　he　got　the　chance；　but　the　eagle　was　too　swift　and　too　smart；　wasn't　he？　Only　so　long　as　he　kept　his　eyes　open；　the　noble　eagle　told　himself；　he　had　great　abilities　and　fine　sight；　but　even　he　had　to　be　careful。　And　so　the　eagle　soared　aloft；　riding　the　thermals　and　watching。　He　couldn't　enter　the　fray；　exactly。　At　most；　he　could　swoop　down　and　warn　the　cute　little　bunnies　that　there　was　danger　about；　but　the　bunnies　were　proverbially　dumb　bunnies；　munching　their　grass　and　not　looking　around　as　much　as　they　ought　to。　That　was　his　job；　the　noble　eagle　told　himself；　to　use　his　superb　eyesight　to　make　sure　he　knew　everything　he　needed　to　know。　The　bunny's　job　was　to　run　when　he　needed　to　run；　and　with　help　from　the　eagle；　to　run　to　a　different　field；　one　without　foxes　and　bears　around　it；　so　that　he　could　be　free　to　raise　more　cute　little　bunnies　and　live　happily　ever　after；　like　Beatrix　Potter's　little　Flopsy；　Mopsy；　and　Cotton…tail。
　　　Foley　rolled　over；　and　the　dream　ended；　the　eagle　watching　for　danger；　and　the　rabbits　eating　their　grass；　and　the　foxes　and　bears　a　good　way　off；　just　watching　but　not　moving；　because　they　didn't　know　which　bunny　would　stray　too　far　from　its　safe　little　hole。
　　　The　alarm　clock's　deliberately　annoying　buzz　caused　Foley's　eyes　to　snap　open；　and　he　rolled　over　to　switch　it　off。　Then　he　jerked　himself　out　of　bed　and　into　the　bathroom。　He　suddenly　missed　his　house　in　Virginia。　It　had　more　than　one　bathroom…two　and　a　half；　in　fact；　which　allowed　some　degree　of　flexibility　should　an　emergency　occur。　Little　Eddie　got　up　when　summoned；　then　almost　immediately　sat　on　the　floor　in　front　of　the　TV　set　and　called　out　〃Worker…womannnn！〃　when　the　exercise　show　came　on。　That　generated　a　smile　from　his　mom　and　dad。　Even　the　KGB　guys　on　the　other　end　of　the　bug　wires　probably　had　a　little　chuckle　at　that。
　　　〃Anything　important　planned　for　the　office　today？〃　Mary　Pat　asked　in　the　kitchen。
　　　〃Well；　ought　to　be　the　usual　weekend　traffic　from　Washington。　I　have　to　run　over　to　the　Brit　Embassy　before　lunch。〃
　　　〃Oh？　What　for？〃　his　wife　asked。
　　　〃I　want　to　stop　over　and　see　Nigel　Haydock　about　a　couple　of　things；〃　he　told　her；　as　she　set　the　bacon　frying。　Mary　Pat　always　did　bacon　and　eggs　on　the　day　of　important　spook　work。　He　wondered　if　their　KGB　listeners　would　ever　tumble　to　that。　Probably　not。　Nobody　was　that　thorough；　and　American　eating　habits　probably　interested　them　only　insofar　as　foreigners　usually　ate　better　than　Russians。
　　　〃Well；　say　hello　for　me。〃
　　　〃Right。〃　He　yawned　and　took　a　sip　of　coffee。
　　　〃We　need　to　have　them　over…maybe　next　weekend？〃
　　　〃Works　for　me。　Roast　beef　and　the　usual？〃
　　　〃Yeah；　I'll　try　to　get　some　frozen　corn　on　the　cob。〃　Russians　grew　corn　you　could　buy　in　the　open　farmers'　markets；　and　it　was　okay；　but　it　wasn't　the　Silver　Queen　that　they'd　e　to　love　in　Virginia。　So　they　usually　settled　for　the　frozen　corn　the　Air　Force　flew　in　from　Rhein…Main；　along　with　the　Chicago　Red　hot　dogs　that　they　served　in　the　embassy　canteen　and　all　the　other　tastes　of　home　that　became　so　important　on　a　posting　like　this　one。　It　was　probably　just　as　true　in　Paris；　Ed　thought。　Breakfast　went　quickly；　and　half　an　hour　later；　he　was　almost　dressed。
　　　〃Which　tie　today；　honey？〃
　　　〃Well；　in　Russia；　you　should　wear　red　once　in　a　while；〃　she　said；　handing　the　tie　over　with　a　wink；　along　with　the　lucky　silver　tie　bar。
　　　〃Um…hmm；〃　he　agreed；　looking　in　the　mirror　to　snug　it　into　his　collar。　〃Well；　here　is　Edward　Foley；　Senior；　foreign…service　officer。〃
　　　〃Works　for　me；　honey。〃　She　kissed　him；　a　little　loudly。
　　　〃Bye；　Daddy；〃　Junior　said　as　his　father　headed　for　the　door。　A　high　five　instead　of　a　kiss。　He'd　gotten　a　little　too　old　for　the　sissy　stuff。
　　　The　rest　of　the　trip　was　stultifyingly　routine。　Walk　to　the　metro。　Buy　his　paper　at　the　kiosk　and　catch　the　exact　same　train　for　the　same　five…kopeck　fare；　because　if　he　caught　the　same　one　going　home；　so　as　to　be　marked　by　KGB　as　a　creature　of　strict　routine；　then　he　had　to　mirror…image　morning　and　afternoon　habits。　At　the　embassy；　he　entered　his　office　and　waited　for　Mike　Russell　to　bring　in　the　morning　message　traffic。　More　than　usual；　he　saw　at　once；　flipping　through　the　messages　and　checking　the　headers。
　　　〃Anything　about　what　we　talked　about？〃　the　munications　officer　asked；　lingering　for　a　moment。
　　　〃Doesn't　look　like　it；〃　Foley　replied。　〃Got　you　a　little　torqued？〃
　　　〃Ed；　getting　secure　stuff　in　and　out　is　my　only　job；　y'know？〃
　　　〃Look　at　it　from　my　side；　Mike。　If　they　tumble　to　me；　I'm　as　useless　as　tits　on　a　boarhog。　Not　to　mention　the　guys　who　get　killed　because　of　it。〃
　　　〃Yeah；　I　hear　you。〃　Russell　paused。　〃I　just　can't　believe　they　can　crack　my　systems；　Ed。　Like　you　said；　you'd　be　losing　people　left　and　right。〃
　　　〃I　want　to　agree　with　you；　but　we　can't　be　too　careful；　can　we？〃
　　　〃Roger　that；　man。　I　catch　anybody　dicking　around　in　my　shop；　they　won't　live　long　enough　to　talk　to　the　FBI；〃　he　promised　darkly。
　　　〃Don't　get　too　carried　away。〃
　　　〃Ed；　when　I　was　in　Vietnam；　nonsecure　signals　got　soldiers　killed。　That's　as　important　as　things　get；　y'know？〃
　　　〃If　I　hear　anything；　I'll　make　sure　you　know　about　it；　Mike。〃
　　　〃Okay。〃　Russell　headed　out；　not　quite　trailing　smoke　out　of　his　ears。
　　　Foley　organized　his　message　traffic…it　was　addressed　to　the　Chief　of　Station；　of　course；　not　to　anyone's　name…and　started　reading　through　it。　There　was　still　concern　about　KGB　and　the　Pope；　but；　aside　from　the　Rabbit；　he　had　nothing　new　to　report；　and　it　was　only　hope　that　told　him　the　Flopsy　had　anything　to　report　on　that　subject。　A　lot　of　interest　in　last　week's　Politburo　meeting；　but　for　that　he'd　have　to　wait　for　his　sources　to　report　in。　Questions　about　Leonid　Brezhnev's　health；　but　while　they　knew　the　names　of　his　physicians…a　whole　team　of　them…none　of　them　talked　to　CIA　directly。　You　could　see　the　picture　on　TV　and　know　that　Leonid　Ilyich　wasn't　going　to　be　running　the　marathon　in　the　next　Olympics。　But　people　like　that　could　linger　for　years；　good　news　and　bad　news。　Brezhnev　wasn't　going　to　be　doing　anything　new　and　different；　but；　as　he　became　increasingly　irrational；　there　was　no　telling　what　dumbass　things　he　might　try…damned　sure　he　wasn't　going　to　be　pulling　out　of　Afghanistan。　He　didn't　care　a　rap　about　the　lives　of　young　Russian　soldiers；　not　when　he　heard　Death's　footsteps　approaching　his　own　door。　The　succession　was　of　interest　to　CIA；　but　it　was　fairly　settled　that　Yuriy　Vladimirovich　Andropov　would　be　the　next　guy　at　the　seat　at　the　head　of　the　table；　absent　a　sudden　death　or　a　major　foot　put　wrong　in　a　political　sense。　Andropov　was　too　canny　a　political　operator　for　that；　however。　No；　he　was　the　current　czarevich；　and　that　was　that。　Hopefully；　he　wouldn't　be　too　vigorous…and　he　wouldn't　if　the　stories　about　his　liver　disease　were　true。　Every　time　Foley　saw　him　on　Russian　TV；　he　looked　for　the　yellow　tinge　on　his　skin　that　announced　that　particular　ailment…but　makeup　could　hide　that；　if　they　used　makeup　on　their　political　chieftains。。。　Hmm；　how　to　check　that？　he　wondered。　Something　to　send　back　to　the　Science　and　Technology　Directorate　at　Langley；　maybe。
　　　Zaitzev　took　his　seat；　after　relieving　Kolya　Dobrik；　and　looked　over　his　message　traffic。　He　decided　to　memorize　as　much　as　possible；　and　so　he　took　a　little　longer　than　usual　forwarding　the　messages　to　their　end…recipients。　There　was　one　from　Agent　CASSIUS　again；　routed　for　political…intelligence　people　upstairs；　and　also　at　the　U。S。…Canada　Institute；　where　the　academicians　read　the　tea　leaves　for　The　Centre　as　a　backup。　There　was　one　from　NEPTUNE；　requesting　money　for　the　agent　who　was　giving　KGB　such　good　munications　intelligence。　NEPTUNE　suggested　the　sea；　didn't　it？　Zaitzev　searched　his　memory　for　previous　signals　from　that　source。　Wasn't　it　mainly　about　the　American　navy？　And　he　was　the　reason　he　worried　about　American　signals　security。　Surely　KGB　was　paying　him　a　huge　amount　of　money；　hundreds　of　thousands　of　dollars　in　American　cash；　something　KGB　had　a　problem　getting　ahold　of…it　was　far　easier　for　the　Soviet　Union　to　pay　in　diamonds；　since　it　could　mine　for　diamonds　in　eastern　Siberia。　They'd　paid　some　Americans　in　diamonds；　but　they'd　been　caught　by　the　vigilant　American　FBI；　and　KGB　had　never　tried　to　negotiate　their　release。。。　so　much　for　loyalty。　The　Americans　tried　to　do　that；　he　knew；　but　most　of　the　time　the　people　they　tried　to　get　out　had　already　been　executed…a　thought　that　stopped　his　thoughts　cold　in　their　tracks。
　　　But　there　was　no　turning　back　now；　and　CIA　was　petent　enough　that　KGB　feared　it；　and　didn't　that　mean　that　he　was　in　good　hands？
　　　Then　he　remembered　one　other　thing　he　had　to　do　today。　In　his　drawer　was　a　pad　of　contact　reports。　Mary　had　suggested　he　report　their　meeting；　and　so　he　did。　He　described　her　as　pretty；　in　her　late　twenties　or　early　thirties；　mother　of　a　fairly　nice　little　son；　and　none　too　bright…very　American　in　mannerisms；　he　wrote…with　modest　language　skills；　good　vocabulary　but　poor　syntax　and　pronunciation；　which　made　her　Russian　understandable　but　stilted。　He　didn't　make　an　evaluation　of　her　likelihood　to　be　an　intelligence　officer；　which；　he　figured；　was　the　smart　thing　to　do。　After　fifteen　minutes　of　writing；　he　walked　it　over　to　the　department　security　officer。
　　　〃This　was　a　waste　of　time；〃　he　said；　handing　it　to　the　man；　a　captain　passed　over　for　promotion　twice。
　　　The　security　officer　scanned　it。　〃Where　did　you　meet　her？〃
　　　〃It's　right　there。〃　He　pointed　to　the　contact　form。　〃I　took　my　zaichik　for　a　walk　in　the