tc.redrabbit-第32节

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sident　might　want　to　nuke　them；　and　they　have　officers　running　around　back　home　trying　to　get　a　feel　for　his　mental　state。〃
　　　〃You're　serious？〃　Fuller　asked。
　　　〃As　a　heart　attack。　I　guess　they　took　the　campaign　rhetoric　a　little　too　seriously。〃
　　　〃I　have　had　a　few　odd　questions　from　their　foreign　ministry；〃　the　Ambassador　said。　〃But　I　just　wrote　it　off　to　small　talk。〃
　　　〃Sir；　we're　investing　a　lot　of　money　in　the　military；　and　that　makes　them　nervous。〃
　　　〃Whereas；　when　they　buy　ten　thousand　new　tanks；　it's　normal？〃　General　Dalton　observed。
　　　〃Exactly；〃　Foley　agreed。　〃A　gun　in　my　hand　is　a　defensive　weapon；　but　a　gun　in　your　hand　is　an　offensive　weapon。　It's　a　matter　of　outlook；　I　suppose。〃
　　　〃Have　you　seen　this？〃　Fuller　asked；　handing　across　a　fax　from　Foggy　Bottom。
　　　Foley　scanned　it。　〃Uh…oh。〃
　　　〃I　told　Washington　it　would　worry　the　Soviets　a　good　deal。　What　do　you　think？〃
　　　〃I　concur；　sir。　In　several　ways。　Most　important　will　be　the　potential　unrest　in　Poland；　which　could　spread　throughout　their　empire。　That's　the　one　area　in　which　they　think　long…term。　Political　stability　is　their　sine　qua　non。　What　are　they　saying　in　Washington？〃
　　　〃The　Agency　just　showed　it　to　the　President；　and　he　handed　it　off　to　the　Secretary　of　State；　and　he　faxed　it　to　me　for　ment。　Can　you　rattle　any　bushes；　see　if　they're　talking　about　it　in　the　Politburo？〃
　　　Foley　thought　for　a　moment　and　nodded。　〃I　can　try。〃　It　made　him　slightly　unfortable；　but　that　was　his　job；　wasn't　it？　It　meant　getting　a　message　to　one　or　more　of　his　agents；　but　that　was　what　they　were　for。　The　troubling　part　was　that　it　meant　exposing　his　wife。　Mary　Pat　would　not　object…hell；　she　loved　the　spy　game　in　the　field…but　it　always　bothered　her　husband　to　expose　her　to　danger。　He　supposed　it　was　chauvinism。　〃What's　the　priority　on　this？〃
　　　〃Washington　is　very　interested；〃　Fuller　said。　That　made　it　important；　but　not　quite　an　emergency　tasking。
　　　〃Okay；　I'll　get　on　it；　sir。〃
　　　〃I　don't　know　what　assets　you're　running　here　in　Moscow…and　I　don't　want　to　know。　It's　dangerous　to　them？〃
　　　〃They　shoot　traitors　over　here；　sir。〃
　　　〃This　is　rougher　than　the　car　business；　Foley。　I　do　understand　that。〃
　　　〃Hell；　it　wasn't　this　rough　in　the　Central　Highlands；〃　General　Dalton　noted。　〃Ivan　plays　pretty　mean。　You　know；　I've　been　asked　about　the　President；　too；　usually　over　drinks　by　senior　officers。　They're　really　that　worried　about　him；　eh？〃
　　　〃It　sure　looks　that　way；〃　Foley　confirmed。
　　　〃Good。　Never　hurts　to　rattle　the　other　guy's　confidence　a　little；　keep　him　looking　over　his　shoulder　some。〃
　　　〃Just　so　it　doesn't　go　too　far；〃　Ambassador　Fuller　suggested。　He　was　relatively　new　to　diplomacy；　but　he　had　respect　for　the　process。　〃Okay；　anything　that　I　need　to　know　about？〃
　　　〃Not　from　my　end；〃　the　COS　replied。　〃Still　getting　used　to　things。　Had　a　Russian　reporter　in　today；　maybe　a　KGB　counterspook　checking　me　out；　guy　named　Kuritsyn。〃
　　　〃I　think　he's　a　player；〃　General　Dalton　said　at　once。
　　　〃I　caught　a　whiff　of　that。　I　expect　he'll　check　me　out　through　the　Times　correspondent。〃
　　　〃You　know　him？〃
　　　〃Anthony　Prince。〃　Foley　nodded。　〃And　that　pretty　much　sums　him　up。　Groton　and　Yale。　I　bumped　into　him　a　few　times　in　New　York　when　I　was　at　the　paper。　He's　very　smart；　but　not　quite　as　smart　as　he　thinks　he　is。〃
　　　〃How's　your　Russian？〃
　　　〃I　can　pass　for　a　native…but　my　wife　can　pass　for　a　poet。　She's　really　good　at　it。　Oh；　one　other　thing。　I　have　a　neighbor　in　the　pound；　Haydock；　husband　Nigel；　wife　Penelope。　I　presume　they're　players；　too。〃
　　　〃Big…time；〃　General　Dalton　confirmed。　〃They're　solid。〃
　　　Foley　thought　so；　but　it　never　hurt　to　be　sure。　He　stood。　〃Okay；　let　me　get　some　work　done。〃
　　　〃Wele　aboard；　Ed；〃　the　Ambassador　said。　〃Duty　here　isn't　too　bad　once　you　get　used　to　it。　We　get　all　the　theater　and　ballet　tickets　we　want　through　their　foreign　ministry。〃
　　　〃I　prefer　ice　hockey。〃
　　　〃That's　easy；　too；〃　General　Dalton　responded。
　　　〃Good　seats？〃　the　spook　asked。
　　　〃First　row。〃
　　　Foley　smiled。　〃Dynamite。〃
　　　For　her　part；　Mary　Pat　was　out　on　the　street　with　her　son。　Eddie　was　too　big　for　a　stroller；　which　was　too　bad。　You　could　do　a　lot　of　interesting　things　with　a　stroller；　and　she　figured　the　Russians　would　be　hesitant　to　mess　with　an　infant　and　a　diaper　bag…especially　when　they　both　came　with　a　diplomatic　passport。　She　was　just　taking　a　walk　at　the　moment；　getting　used　to　the　environment；　the　sights　and　smells。　This　was　the　belly　of　the　beast；　and　here　she　was；　like　a　virus…a　deadly　one；　she　hoped。　She'd　been　born　Mary　Kaminsky；　the　granddaughter　of　an　equerry　to　the　House　of　Romanov。　Grandfather　Vanya　had　been　a　central　figure　of　her　youth。　From　him　she'd　learned　Russian　as　a　toddler；　and　not　the　base　Russian　of　today；　but　the　elegant；　literary　Russian　of　a　bygone　time。　She　could　read　the　poetry　of　Pushkin　and　weep；　and　in　this　she　was　more　Russian　than　American；　for　the　Russians　had　venerated　their　poets　for　centuries；　while　in　America　they　were　mainly　relegated　to　writing　pop　songs。　There　was　much　to　admire　and　much　to　love　about　this　country。
　　　But　not　its　government。　She'd　been　twelve；　looking　forward　to　her　teens　with　enthusiasm；　when　Grandfather　Vanya　had　told　her　the　story　of　Aleksey；　the　crown　prince　of　Russia…a　good　child；　so　her　grandfather　said；　but　an　unlucky　one；　stricken　with　hemophilia　and　for　that　reason　a　fragile　child。　Colonel　Vanya　Borissovich　Kaminsky；　a　minor　nobleman　in　the　Imperial　Horse　Guards；　had　taught　the　boy　to　ride　a　horse；　because　that　was　one　physical　skill　a　prince　needed　in　that　age。　He'd　had　to　be　ever　so　careful…Aleksey　often　went　about　in　the　arms　of　a　sailor　in　the　Imperial　navy；　lest　he　trip　and　fall　and　bleed…but　he'd　acplished　the　task；　to　the　gratitude　of　Nikolay　II　and　Czarina　Alexandra；　and　along　the　way　the　two　had　bee　as　close　as；　if　not　father　and　son；　then　uncle　and　nephew。　Grandfather　Vanya　had　gone　to　the　front　and　fought　against　the　Germans；　but　early　in　the　war　had　been　captured　at　the　Battle　of　Tannenberg。　It　had　been　in　a　German　prisoner…of…war　camp　that　he'd　learned　of　the　revolution。　He'd　managed　to　e　back　to　Mother　Russia；　and　fought　with　the　White　Guards　in　the　doomed　counterrevolutionary　effort…then　learned　that　the　czar　and　his　entire　family　had　been　murdered　by　the　usurpers　at　Ekaterinberg。　He'd　known　then　that　the　war　was　lost；　and　he'd　managed　to　escape　and　make　his　way　to　America；　where　he'd　begun　a　new　life；　but　one　in　perpetual　mourning　for　the　dead。
　　　Mary　Pat　remembered　the　tears　in　his　eyes　when　he　told　the　tale；　and　the　tears　had　municated　to　her　his　visceral　hatred　for　the　Bolsheviks。　It　had　muted　somewhat。　She　wasn't　a　fanatic；　but　when　she　saw　a　Russian　in　a　uniform；　or　in　a　speeding　ZIL；　headed　for　a　Party　meeting；　she　saw　the　face　of　the　enemy；　an　enemy　that　needed　defeating。　That　munism　was　her　country's　adversary　was　merely　sauce　for　the　goose。　If　she　could　find　a　button　that　would　bring　down　this　odious　political　system；　she'd　push　it　without　a　blink　of　hesitation。
　　　And　so　the　appointment　to　Moscow　had　been　the　best　of　all　dream　assignments。　Just　as　Vanya　Borissovich　Kaminsky　had　told　her　his　ancient　and　sad　story；　so　he　had　given　her　a　mission　for　her　life；　and　a　passion　for　its　achievement。　Her　choice　to　join　CIA　had　been　as　natural　as　brushing　out　her　honey…blond　hair。
　　　And　now；　walking　about；　for　the　first　time　in　her　life　she　really　understood　her　grandfather's　passionate　love　for　things　past。　Everything　was　different　from　what　she　knew　in　America；　from　the　pitch　of　the　building　roofs　to　the　color　of　the　asphalt　in　the　streets　to　the　blank　expressions　on　the　faces　of　the　people。　They　looked　at　her　as　they　passed；　for　in　her　American　clothes　she　stood　out　like　a　peacock　among　crows。　Some　even　managed　a　smile　for　little　Eddie；　because　dour　as　the　Russians　were；　they　were　unfailingly　kind　to　children。　For　the　fun　of　it；　she　asked　for　directions　from　a　militiaman；　as　the　local　police　were　called；　and　he　was　polite　to　her；　helping　with　her　poor　pronunciation　of　his　language　and　giving　directions。　So　that　was　one　good　thing。　She　had　a　tail；　she　noted；　a　KGB　officer；　about　thirty…five；　following　behind　by　about　fifty　yards；　doing　his　best　to　remain　invisible。　His　mistake　was　in　looking　away　when　she　turned。　That's　probably　how　he　had　been　trained；　so　that　his　face　would　not　bee　too　familiar　to　his　surveillance　target。
　　　The　streets　and　sidewalks　were　wide　here；　but　not　overly　crowded　with　people。　Most　Russians　were　at　work；　and　there　was　no　population　of　free　women　here；　out　shopping　or　heading　to　social　affairs　or　golf　outings…maybe　the　wives　of　the　really　important　party　members；　that　was　all。
　　　Kind　of　like　the　idle　rich　at　home；　Mary　Pat　reflected；　if　there　were　still　such　people。　Her　mom　had　always　worked；　at　least　in　her　memory…still　did；　in　fact。　But　here　working　women　used　shovels　while　the　men　drove　dump　trucks。　They　were　always　fixing　potholes　in　the　streets；　but　never　quite　fixing　them　well　enough。　Just　like　in　Washington　and　New　York；　she　thought。
　　　There　were　street　vendors　here；　though；　selling　ice　cream；　and　she　bought　one　for　little　Eddie；　whose　eyes　were　taking　it　all　in。　It　troubled　her　conscience　to　inflict　this　place　and　this　miss