tc.redrabbit-第3节

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t　started　getting　paid　now　in　certificate　rubles；　and　so　was　able　to　shop　in　the　〃closed〃　stores　for　Western　consumer　goods…and；　best　of　all；　with　shorter　lines。　His　wife　appreciated　that。　He'd　soon　be　in　the　entry　level　of　the　nomenklatura；　like　a　minor　czarist　prince；　looking　up　the　ladder　and　wondering　how　far　he　might　climb。　But　unlike　the　czars；　he　was　here　not　by　blood　but　by　merit…a　fact　that　appealed　to　his　manhood；　Captain　Zaitzev　thought。
　　　Yes；　he'd　earned　his　way　here；　and　that　was　important。　That's　why　he　was　trusted　with　secrets；　this　one　for　example：　an　agent　code…named　CASSIUS；　an　American　living　in　Washington；　it　seemed　he　had　access　to　valuable　political　intelligence　that　was　treasured　by　people　on　the　fifth　floor；　and　which　was　often　seconded　to　experts　in　the　U。S。…Canada　Institute；　which　studied　the　tea　leaves　in　America。　Canada　wasn't　very　important　to　the　KGB；　except　for　its　participation　in　the　American　air…defense　systems；　and　because　some　of　its　senior　politicians　didn't　like　their　powerful　southern　neighbor；　or　so　the　rezident　in　Ottawa　regularly　told　his　superiors　upstairs。　Zaitzev　wondered　about　that。　The　Poles　might　not　love　their　eastern　neighbor　either；　but　the　Poles　mostly　did　what　they　were　told…the　Warsaw　rezident　had　reported　with　unconcealed　pleasure　in　his　dispatch　the　previous　month…as　that　union　hothead　had　found　out　to　his　disfort。　〃Counterrevolutionary　scum〃　had　been　the　term　used　by　Colonel　Igor　Alekseyevich　Tomachevskiy。　The　Colonel　was　thought　to　be　a　rising　star；　due　for　a　posting　to　the　West。　That's　where　the　really　good　ones　went。
　　　Two　and　a　half　miles　across　town；　Ed　Foley　was　first　in　the　door；　with　his　wife；　Mary　Patricia；　just　behind　him；　leading　Eddie　by　the　hand。　Eddie's　young　blue　eyes　were　wide　with　a　child's　curiosity；　but　even　now　the　four…and…a…half…year…old　was　learning　that　Moscow　wasn't　Disney　World。　The　culture　shock　was　about　to　fall　like　Thor's　own　hammer；　but　it　would　expand　his　horizons　a　bit；　his　parents　thought。　As　it　would　theirs。
　　　〃Uh…huh；〃　Ed　Foley　said　on　his　first　look。　An　embassy　consular　officer　had　lived　here　before；　and　he'd　at　least　made　an　effort　to　clean　the　place　up；　no　doubt　helped　by　a　Russian　domestic…the　Soviet　government　provided　them；　and　diligent　they　were。。。　for　both　their　bosses。　Ed　and　Mary　Pat　had　been　thoroughly　briefed　for　weeks…nay；　months…before　taking　the　long　Pan　Am　flight　out　of　JFK　for　Moscow。
　　　〃So；　this　is　home；　eh？〃　Ed　observed　in　a　studiously　neutral　voice。
　　　〃Wele　to　Moscow；〃　Mike　Barnes　told　the　newbies。　He　was　another　consular　officer；　a　career　FSO　on　the　way　up；　and　had　this　week's　duty　as　the　embassy　greeter。　〃The　last　occupant　was　Charlie　Wooster。　Good　guy；　back　at　Foggy　Bottom　now；　catching　the　summer　heat。〃
　　　〃How　are　the　summers　here？〃　Mary　Pat　asked。
　　　〃Kinda　like　Minneapolis；〃　Barnes　answered。　〃Not　real　hot；　and　the　humidity's　not　too　bad；　and　the　winters　are　actually　not　as　severe…I　grew　up　in　Minneapolis；〃　he　explained。　〃Of　course；　the　German　army　might　not　agree；　or　Napoleon；　but；　well；　nobody　ever　said　Moscow　was　supposed　to　be　like　Paris；　right？〃
　　　〃Yeah；　they　told　me　about　the　nightlife；〃　Ed　chuckled。　It　was　all　right　with　him。　They　didn't　need　a　stealthy　Station　Chief　in　Paris；　and　this　was　the　biggest；　ripest　plum　assignment　he'd　never　expected　to　get。　Bulgaria；　maybe；　but　not　the　very　belly　of　the　beast。　Bob　Ritter　must　have　been　really　impressed　by　his　time　in　Tehran。　Thank　God　Mary　Pat　had　delivered　Eddie　when　she　had。　They'd　missed　the　takeover　in　Iran　by；　what；　three　weeks？　It　had　been　a　troublesome　pregnancy；　and　Mary　Pat's　doc　had　insisted　on　their　ing　back　to　New　York　for　the　delivery。　Kids　were　a　gift　from　God；　all　right。。。　Besides；　that　had　made　Eddie　a　New　Yorker；　too；　and　Ed　had　damned　well　wanted　his　son　to　be　a　Yankees　and　Rangers　fan　from　birth。　The　best　news　of　this　assignment；　aside　from　the　professional　stuff；　was　that　he'd　see　the　best　ice　hockey　in　the　world　right　here　in　Moscow。　Screw　the　ballet　and　the　symphony。　These　fuckers　knew　how　to　skate。　Pity　the　Russkies　didn't　understand　baseball。　Probably　too　sophisticated　for　the　muzhiks。　All　those　pitches　to　choose　from。。。
　　　〃It's　not　real　big；〃　Mary　Pat　observed；　looking　at　one　cracked　window。　They　were　on　the　sixth　floor。　At　least　the　traffic　noise　wouldn't　be　too　bad。　The　foreigners'　pound…ghetto…was　walled　and　guarded。　This　was　for　their　protection；　the　Russians　insisted；　but　street　crime　against　foreigners　wasn't　a　problem　in　Moscow。　The　average　Russian　citizen　was　forbidden　by　law　to　have　foreign　currency　in　his　possession；　and　there　was　no　convenient　way　to　spend　it　in　any　case。　So　there　was　little　profit　in　mugging　an　American　or　Frenchman　on　the　streets；　and　there　was　no　mistaking　them…their　clothing　marked　them　about　as　clearly　as　peacocks　among　crows。
　　　〃Hello！〃　It　was　an　English　accent。　The　florid　face　appeared　a　moment　later。　〃We're　your　neighbors。　Nigel　and　Penny　Haydock；〃　the　face's　owner　said。　He　was　about　forty…five；　tall　and　skinny；　with　prematurely　gray　and　thinning　hair。　His　wife；　younger　and　prettier　than　he　probably　deserved；　appeared　an　instant　later　with　a　tray　of　sandwiches　and　some　weling　white　wine。
　　　〃You　must　be　Eddie；〃　the　flaxen…haired　Mrs。　Haydock　observed。　That's　when　Ed　Foley　noticed　the　maternity　dress。　She　was　about　six　months　gone；　by　the　look　of　her。　So　the　briefings　had　been　right　in　every　detail。　Foley　trusted　CIA；　but　he'd　learned　the　hard　way　to　verify　everything；　from　the　names　of　people　living　on　the　same　floor　to　whether　the　toilet　flushed　reliably。　Especially　in　Moscow；　he　thought；　heading　for　the　bathroom。　Nigel　followed。
　　　〃The　plumbing　works　reliably　here；　but　it　is　noisy。　No　one　plains；〃　Haydock　explained。
　　　Ed　Foley　flipped　the　handle　and；　sure　enough；　it　was　noisy。
　　　〃Fixed　that　myself。　Bit　of　a　handyman；　you　see；〃　he　said。　Then；　more　quietly；　〃Be　careful　where　you　speak　in　this　place；　Ed。　Bloody　bugs　everywhere。　Especially　the　bedrooms。　The　bloody　Russians　like　to　count　our　orgasms；　so　it　seems。　Penny　and　I　try　not　to　disappoint。〃　A　sly　grin。　Well；　to　some　cities　you　brought　your　own　nightlife。
　　　〃Two　years　here？〃　The　toilet　seemed　to　run　forever。　Foley　was　tempted　to　lift　the　tank　cover　to　see　if　Haydock　had　replaced　the　plumbing　hardware　inside　with　something　special。　He　decided　he　didn't　have　to　look　to　check　that。
　　　〃Twenty…nine　months。　Seven　to　go。　It's　a　lively　place　to　work。　I'm　sure　they　told　you；　everywhere　you　go；　you'll　have　a　'friend'　handy。　Don't　underestimate　them；　either。　The　Second　Directorate　chaps　are　thoroughly　trained。。。〃　The　toilet　ran　its　course；　and　Haydock　changed　his　voice。　〃The　shower…the　hot　water　is　pretty　reliable；　but　the　spray　pipe；　it　rattles；　just　like　the　one　in　our　flat。。。〃　He　turned　the　faucet　to　demonstrate。　Sure　enough；　it　rattled。　Had　someone　worked　on　the　wall　to　loosen　it？　Ed　wondered。　Probably。　Probably　this　very　handyman　with　him。
　　　〃Perfect。〃
　　　〃Yes；　you　will　get　a　lot　of　work　done　in　here。　Shower　with　a　friend　and　save　water…isn't　that　what　they　say　in　California？〃
　　　Foley　managed　his　first　laugh　in　Moscow。　〃Yeah；　that's　what　they　say；　all　right。〃　He　gave　his　visitor　a　look。　He　was　surprised　that　Haydock　had　introduced　himself　so　early；　but　maybe　it　was　just　reverse…English　tradecraft　to　be　so　obvious。　The　business　of　espionage　had　all　manner　of　rules；　and　the　Russians　were　rule…followers。　So；　Bob　Ritter　had　told　him；　toss　away　part　of　the　rulebook。　Stick　to　your　cover　and　be　a　dumbass　unpredictable　American　every　chance　you　get。　He'd　also　told　the　Foleys　that　Nigel　Haydock　was　one　guy　they　could　trust。　He　was　the　son　of　another　intelligence　officer…a　man　betrayed　by　Kim　Philby　himself；　one　of　the　poor　bastards　who'd　parachuted　into　Albania　into　the　waiting　arms　of　the　KGB　reception　mittee。　Nigel　had　been　five　years　old　then；　just　old　enough　always　to　remember　what　it　was　like　to　lose　your　father　to　the　enemy。　Nigel's　motivation　was　probably　as　good　as　Mary　Pat's；　and　that　was　pretty　damned　good。　Better　even　than　his　own；　Ed　Foley　might　admit　after　a　few　drinks。　Mary　Pat　hated　the　bastards　as　the　Lord　God　Himself　hated　sin。　Haydock　wasn't　the　Station　Chief　here；　but　he　was　the　head　bird…dog　for　the　SIS's　operation　in　Moscow；　and　that　made　him　pretty　good。　The　CIA's　Director；　Judge　Moore；　trusted　the　Brits：　after　Philby；　he'd　seen　them　go　through　SIS　with　a　flamethrower　hotter　than　even　James　Jesus　Angleton's　fly　rod　and　cauterize　every　possible　leak。　In　turn；　Foley　trusted　Judge　Moore；　and　so　did　the　President。　That　was　the　craziest　part　of　the　intelligence　business：　You　couldn't　trust　anybody…but　you　had　to　trust　somebody。
　　　Well；　Foley　thought；　checking　the　hot　water　with　his　hand；　nobody　ever　said　the　business　made　much　sense。　Like　classical　metaphysics。　It　just　was。
　　　〃When's　the　furniture　get　here？〃
　　　〃The　container　ought　to　be　on　a　truck　in　Leningrad　right　now。　Will　they　tamper　with　it？〃
　　　Haydock　shrugged。　〃Check　everything；〃　he　warned；　then　softened。　〃You　can　never　know　how　thorough　they　are；　Edward。　The　KGB　is　a　great　bloody　bureaucracy…you　don't　know　the　meaning　of　the　word　until　you　see　it　in　operation　here。　For　example；　the　bugs　in　your　flat…how　many　of　them　actually　work？　They're　not　British　Tel