tc.redrabbit-第135节

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　　　〃If　he's　here；　he's　bloody　invisible；〃　Sharp　said；　standing　next　to　Ryan。　They　were　eight　or　ten　yards　from　the　interlocking　steel　barriers　brought　in　for　the　Pope's　weekly　appearance。　They　looked　heavy。　Two　men　to　put　them　on　the　truck；　or　four？　Jack　wondered。　He　discovered　that　the　mind　liked　to　wander　at　times　like　this；　and　he　had　to　guard　against　that。　Keep　scanning　the　crowd；　he　told　himself。
　　　There's　too　many　goddamned　faces！　the　self　responded　angrily。　And　as　soon　as　the　fucker　gets　into　place；　he'll　be　looking　away。
　　　〃Tom；　how　about　we　edge　forward　and　sweep　along　the　railing？〃
　　　〃Good　idea；〃　Sharp　agreed　at　once。
　　　The　crowd　was　difficult；　but　not　impossible；　to　slip　through。　Ryan　checked　his　watch。　Fifteen　minutes。　People　were　now　edging　against　the　barriers；　wanting　to　get　close。　There　was　a　belief　from　medieval　times　that　the　mere　touch　of　a　king　could　cure　the　ill　or　bring　good　fortune；　and　evidently　that　belief　lingered…and　how　much　more　true　if　the　man　in　question　was　the　Pontifex　Maximus？　Some　of　the　people　here　would　be　cancer　victims；　entreating　God　for　a　miracle。　Maybe　some　miracles　actually　happened。　Docs　called　that　spontaneous　remission　and　wrote　it　off　to　biological　processes　they　didn't　yet　understand。　But　maybe　they　really　were　miracles…to　the　recipients　they　certainly　were　exactly　that。　It　was　just　one　more　thing　Ryan　didn't　understand。
　　　People　were　leaning　forward　more；　heads　were　turning　to　the　face　of　the　church。
　　　〃Sharp/Ryan；　Sparrow。　Possible　target；　twenty　feet　to　your　left；　standing　three　ranks　back　of　the　barrier。　Blue　coat；〃　Jack's　earpiece　crackled。　He　headed　that　way　without　waiting　for　Sharp。　It　was　hard　pressing　through　the　crowd；　but　it　wasn't　a　New　York　subway　crush。　Nobody　turned　to　curse　at　him。　Ryan　looked　forward。。。
　　　Yes。。。　right　there。　He　turned　to　look　at　Sharp　and　tapped　his　nose　twice。
　　　〃Ryan　is　on　the　target；〃　he　said　into　his　lapel。　〃Steer　me　in；　John。〃
　　　〃Forward　ten　feet；　Jack；　immediately　left　of　the　Italian…looking　woman　in　the　brown　dress。　Our　friend　has　light　brown　hair。　He　is　looking　to　his　left。〃
　　　Bingo；　Jack　thought　in　silent　celebration。　It　took　two　more　minutes　and　he　was　standing　right　behind　the　cocksucker。　Hello；　Colonel　Strokov。
　　　Hidden　in　the　thickness　of　the　crowd；　Jack　unbuttoned　his　jacket。
　　　The　man　was　farther　back　than　he　would　have　done　it；　Jack　thought。　His　field　of　fire　was　limited　by　the　bodies　around　him；　but　the　woman　directly　in　front　of　him　was　short　enough　that　he　could　easily　draw　and　fire　right　over　her；　and　his　field　of　view　was　fairly　unrestricted。
　　　Okay；　Boris　Andreyevich；　if　you　want　to　play；　this　game's　going　to　surprise　you　some。　If　the　Army　or　the　Navy　ever　look　on　heaven's　scenes/They　will　find　the　streets　are　guarded　by　United　States　Marines；　motherfucker。
　　　Tom　Sharp　took　the　chance　to　slide　through　the　crowd　in　front　of　Strokov；　brushing　past　as　he　went。　On　the　other　side；　he　turned　in　Ryan's　direction　and　reached　up　with　his　fist　into　the　sky。　Strokov　was　armed。
　　　The　noise　of　the　crowd　rose　in　frequency；　and　the　languages　all　melded　into　one　murmuring　hiss　of　noise　that　suddenly　went　dead　still。　A　bronze　door　had　opened　out　of　Ryan's　view。
　　　Sharp　was　four　feet　away；　just　one　person；　an　adolescent　boy；　between　him　and　Strokov。。。　easy　for　him　to　dart　right　and　get　his　hands　on　the　man。
　　　Then　a　cavalcade　of　screams　erupted。　Ryan　inched　back　and　pulled　out　his　pistol；　thumbing　the　hammer　back；　putting　his　pistol　fully　in　battery。　His　eyes　were　locked　on　Strokov。
　　　〃King；　the　Pope　is　ing　out　now！　Vehicle　is　in　view。〃
　　　But　Ryan　couldn't　answer。　Neither　could　he　see　the　Popemobile。
　　　〃Sparrow；　I　see　him。　Ryan/Sharp；　he　will　enter　your　field　of　view　in　a　few　seconds。〃
　　　Unable　to　say　a　word；　unable　to　see　His　Holiness　approach；　Jack's　eyes　were　locked　on　his　target's　shoulders。　You　can't　move　your　arm　without　having　them　move；　too；　and　when　he　did　that。。。
　　　Shooting　a　man　in　the　back　is　murder；　Jack。。。
　　　In　his　peripheral　vision；　Ryan　saw　the　front…left　corner　of　the　white　jeep/golf　cart　slowly　moving　left　to　right。　The　man　in　front　of　him　was　looking　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