tc.redrabbit-第21节

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his　cards　one　at　a　time。
　　　〃Dad　called　today；〃　Cathy　said；　perusing　her　medical　journal。　This　was　The　New　England　Journal　of　Medicine；　one　of　the　six　she　subscribed　to。
　　　〃What　did　Joe　want？〃
　　　〃Just　asked　how　we　were　doing；　how　the　kids　are；　that　sort　of　thing；〃　Cathy　responded。
　　　Didn't　waste　any　words　about　me；　did　he？　Ryan　didn't　bother　asking。　Joe　Muller；　senior　VP　of　Merrill　Lynch；　didn't　approve　of　the　way　his　son…in…law　had　left　the　trading　business；　after　having　had　the　bad　grace　to　run　off　with　his　own　daughter；　first　to　teach；　and　then　to　play　fox…and…hounds　with　spies　and　other　government　employees。　Joe　didn't　much　care　for　the　government　and　its　minions…he　deemed　them　unproductive　takers　of　what　he　and　others　made。　Jack　was　sympathetic；　but　someone　had　to　deal　with　the　tigers　of　the　world；　and　one　of　those　somebodies　was　John　Patrick　Ryan。　Ryan　liked　money　as　much　as　the　next　guy；　but　to　him　it　was　a　tool；　not　an　end　in　itself。　It　was　like　a　good　car…it　could　take　you　to　nice　places　but；　once　there；　you　didn't　sleep　in　the　car。　Joe　didn't　see　things　that　way　and　didn't　even　try　to　understand　those　who　thought　otherwise。　On　the　other　hand；　he　did　love　his　daughter；　and　he　had　never　hassled　her　about　being　a　surgeon。　Perhaps　he　figured　taking　care　of　sick　people　was　okay　for　girls；　but　making　money　was　man's　work。
　　　〃That's　nice；　honey；〃　Ryan　said　from　behind　the　FT。　The　Japanese　economy　was　starting　to　look　shaky　to　Ryan；　though　not　to　the　paper's　editorial　board。　Well；　they'd　been　wrong　before。
　　　It　was　a　sleepless　night　in　Moscow。　Yuriy　Andropov　had　smoked　more　than　his　usual　plement　of　Marlboros；　but　had　held　himself　to　only　one　vodka　after　he'd　gotten　home　from　a　diplomatic　reception　for　the　ambassador　from　Spain…a　total　waste　of　his　time。　Spain　had　joined　NATO；　and　its　counterintelligence　service　was　depressingly　effective　at　identifying　his　attempts　to　get　a　penetration　agent　into　their　government。　He'd　probably　be　better　advised　to　try　the　king's　court。　Courtiers　were　notoriously　talkative；　after　all；　and　the　elected　government　would　probably　keep　the　newly　restored　monarch　informed；　for　no　other　reason　than　their　desire　to　suck　up　to　him。　So　he　had　drunk　the　wine；　nibbled　on　the　finger　food；　and　chattered　on　with　the　usual　small　talk。　Yes；　it　has　been　a　fine　summer；　hasn't　it？　Sometimes　he　wondered　if　his　elevation　to　the　Politburo　was　worth　the　demands　on　his　time。　He　hardly　ever　had　time　to　read　anymore…just　his　work　and　his　diplomatic/political　duties；　which　were　endless。　Now　he　knew　what　it　must　be　like　to　be　a　woman；　Andropov　thought。　No　wonder　they　all　nagged　and　groused　so　much　at　their　men。
　　　But　the　thought　that　never　left　his　mind　was　the　Warsaw　Letter。　If　the　government　of　Warsaw　persists　in　its　unreasonable　repression　of　the　people；　I　will　be　pelled　to　resign　the　papacy　and　return　to　be　with　my　people　in　their　time　of　trouble。　That　bastard！　Threatening　the　peace　of　the　world。　Had　the　Americans　put　him　up　to　it？　None　of　his　field　officers　had　turned　up　anything　like　that；　but　one　could　never　be　sure。　The　American　President　was　clearly　no　friend　to　his　country；　he　was　always　looking　for　ways　to　sting　Moscow…the　nerve　of　that　intellectual　nonentity；　saying　that　the　Soviet　Union　was　the　center　of　evil　in　the　world！　That　fucking　actor　saying　such　things！　Even　the　howls　of　protest　from　the　American　news　media　and　academia　hadn't　lessened　the　sting。　Europeans　had　picked　up　on　it…worst　of　all；　the　Eastern　European　intelligentsia　had　seized　on　it；　which　had　caused　all　manner　of　problems　for　his　subordinate　counter…intelligence　throughout　the　Warsaw　Pact。　As　if　they　weren't　busy　enough　already；　Yuriy　Vladimirovich　grumbled；　as　he　pulled　another　cigarette　out　of　the　red…and…white　box　and　lit　it　with　a　match。　He　didn't　even　listen　to　the　music　that　was　playing；　as　his　brain　turned　the　information　over　and　over　in　his　head。
　　　Warsaw　had　to　clamp　down　on　those　counterrevolutionary　troublemakers　in　Danzig…strangely；　Andropov　always　thought　of　that　port　city　by　the　old　German　name…lest　its　government　e　pletely　unglued。　Moscow　had　told　them　to　sort　things　out　in　the　most　direct　terms；　and　the　Poles　knew　how　to　follow　orders。　The　presence　of　Soviet　Army　tanks　on　their　soil　would　help　them　understand　what　was　necessary　and　what　was　not。　If　this　Polish　〃Solidarity〃　rubbish　went　much　further；　the　infection　would　begin　to　spread…west　to　Germany；　south　to　Czechoslovakia。。。　and　east　to　the　Soviet　Union？　They　couldn't　allow　that。
　　　On　the　other　hand；　if　the　Polish　government　could　suppress　it；　then　things　would　quiet　down　again。　Until　the　next　time？　Andropov　wondered。
　　　Had　his　outlook　been　just　a　little　broader；　he　might　have　grasped　the　fundamental　problem。　As　a　Politburo　member；　he　was　insulated　from　the　more　unpleasant　aspects　of　life　in　his　country。　He　lacked　for　nothing。　Good　food　was　no　farther　away　than　his　telephone。　His　lavish　apartment　was　well　furnished；　outfitted　with　German　appliances。　The　furniture　was　fortable。　The　elevator　in　his　building　was　never　out　of　service。　He　had　a　driver　to　take　him　to　and　from　the　office。　He　had　a　protective　detail　to　make　sure　that　he　was　never　troubled　by　street　hooligans。　He　was　as　protected　as　Nikolay　II　had　been　and；　like　all　men；　he　assumed　that　his　living　conditions　were　normal；　even　though　intellectually　he　knew　that　they　were　anything　but。　The　people　outside　his　windows　had　food　to　eat；　TV　and　films　to　watch；　sports　teams　to　cheer　for；　and　the　chance　to　own　an　automobile；　didn't　they？　In　return　for　giving　them　all　those　things；　he　enjoyed　a　somewhat　better　lifestyle。　That　was　entirely　reasonable；　wasn't　it？　Didn't　he　work　harder　than　they　all　did？　What　the　hell　else　did　those　people　want？
　　　And　now　this　Polish　priest　was　trying　to　upset　the　entire　thing。
　　　And　he　just　might　do　it；　too；　Andropov　thought。　Stalin　had　once　famously　asked　how　many　divisions　the　Pope　had　at　his　mand；　but　even　he　must　have　known　that　not　all　the　power　in　the　world　grew　out　of　the　barrel　of　a　gun。
　　　If　Karol　did　resign　the　papacy；　then　what？　He'd　try　to　e　back　to　Poland。　Might　the　Poles　keep　him　out…revoke　his　citizenship；　for　example？　No；　somehow　he'd　manage　to　get　back　into　Poland。　Andropov　and　the　Poles　had　their　agents　inside　the　church；　of　course；　but　such　things　only　went　so　far。　To　what　extent　did　the　church　have　his　agencies　infiltrated？　There　was　no　telling。　So　no；　any　attempt　to　keep　him　out　of　Poland　was　probably　doomed　to　failure；　and；　once　attempted；　if　the　Pope　did　get　into　Poland；　that　would　be　an　epic　disaster。
　　　They　could　try　diplomatic　contacts。　The　right　Foreign　Ministry　official　could　fly　to　Rome　and　meet　clandestinely　with　Karol　and　try　to　dissuade　him　from　following　through　on　his　threat。　But　what　cards　would　he　be　able　to　play？　An　overt　threat　on　his　life。。。　that　would　not　work。　That　sort　of　challenge　would　be　an　invitation　to　martyrdom　and　sainthood；　which　likely　would　only　encourage　him　to　make　the　trip。　For　a　believer；　it　would　be　an　invitation　to　Heaven；　one　sent　by　the　devil　himself；　and　he'd　pick　up　that　gauntlet　with　alacrity。　No；　you　could　not　threaten　such　a　man　with　death。　Even　threatening　his　people　with　harsher　measures　would　only　encourage　him　further…he'd　want　to　e　home　to　protect　them　all　the　sooner；　so　as　to　appear　more　heroic　to　the　world。
　　　The　sophistication　of　the　threat　he　had　sent　to　Warsaw　was　something　that　only　appreciated　with　contemplation；　Andropov　admitted　to　himself。　But　there　was　one　certain　answer　to　it：　Karol　would　have　to　find　out　for　himself　if　there　really　was　a　god。
　　　Is　there　a　god？　Andropov　wondered。　A　question　for　the　ages；　answered　by　many　people　in　many　ways　until　Karl　Marx　and　Vladimir　Lenin　had　settled　the　matter…at　least　so　far　as　the　Soviet　Union　was　concerned。　No；　Yuriy　Vladimirovich　told　himself；　it　was　too　late　for　him　to　reconsider　his　own　answer　to　that　question。　No；　there　is　no　God。　Life　was　here　and　now；　and　when　it　ended；　it　ended；　and　so　what　you　did　was　the　best　you　could；　living　your　life　as　fully　as　possible；　taking　the　fruit　you　could　reach　and　building　a　ladder　to　seize　those　you　could　not。
　　　But　Karol　was　trying　to　change　that　equation。　He　was　trying　to　shake　the　ladder…or　perhaps　the　tree？　That　question　was　a　little　too　deep。
　　　Andropov　turned　in　his　chair　and　poured　some　vodka　out　of　the　decanter；　then　took　a　contemplative　sip。　Karol　was　trying　to　enforce　his　false　beliefs　on　his　own；　trying　to　shake　the　very　foundations　of　the　Soviet　Union　and　its　far…flung　alliances；　trying　to　tell　people　that　there　was　something　better　to　believe　in。　In　that；　he　was　trying　to　upset　the　work　of　generations；　and　he　and　his　country　could　not　permit　it。　But　he　could　not　forestall　Kami's　effort。　He　could　not　persuade　him　to　turn　away。　No；　Karol　would　have　to　be　stopped　in　a　manner　that　would　forestall　him　fully　and　finally。
　　　It　would　not　be　easy；　and　it　would　not　be　entirely　safe。　But　doing　nothing　was　even　less　safe；　for　him；　for　his　colleagues；　and　for　his　country。
　　　And　so；　Karol　had　to　die。　First；　Andropov　would　have　to　e　up　with　a　plan。　Then　he'd　have　to　take　it　to　the　Politburo。　Before　he　proposed　action；　he'd　have　to　have　the　action　fully　plotted　out；　with　a　guarantee　of　success。　Well；　that