tc.redrabbit-第42节

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one　into　the　Andropov　file　at　Langley。
　　　〃Well；　he　wouldn't　have　been　much　of　a　judge；〃　Arthur　Moore　observed。　He'd　read　the　file；　too。　〃At　least　not　at　the　appeals　level。　Too　interested　in　hanging　the　poor　son　of　a　bitch　just　to　see　if　the　rope　breaks　or　not。〃　Not　that　Texas　hadn't　had　a　few　judges　like　that；　once　upon　a　time；　but　it　was　much　more　civilized　now。　There　were　fewer　horses　that　needed　stealing　than　men　who　needed　killing；　after　all。　〃Okay；　Robert；　what　can　we　do　to　flesh　him　out　a　little？　Looks　like　he's　going　to　be　their　next　General　Secretary；　after　all。　Strikes　me　as　a　good　idea。〃
　　　〃I　can　rattle　some　cages。　Why　not　ask　Sir　Basil　what　he　can　do？　They're　better　at　the　social　stuff　than　we　are；　and　it　takes　the　heat　off　our　people。〃
　　　〃I　like　Bas；　but　I　don't　like　having　him　hold　that　many　markers　for　us；〃　Judge　Moore　answered。
　　　〃Well；　James；　your　protege　is　over　there。　Have　him　ask　the　question。　You　get　him　an　STU　at　home　yet？〃
　　　〃Ought　to　have　gotten　there　today；　yes。〃
　　　〃So　call　your　lad　and　have　him　ask；　nice　and　casual…like。〃
　　　Greer's　eyes　went　to　the　Judge。　〃Arthur？〃
　　　〃Approved。　Lowercase　this；　though。　Tell　Ryan　that　it's　for　his　personal　interest；　not　ours。〃
　　　The　Admiral　checked　his　watch。　〃Okay；　I　can　do　that　before　I　head　home。〃
　　　〃Now；　Bob；　any　progress　on　MASQUE　OF　THE　RED　DEATH？〃　the　DCI　asked　with　amusement；　just　to　close　down　the　afternoon　meeting。　It　was　a　fun　idea；　but　not　a　very　serious　one。
　　　〃Arthur；　let's　not　discount　it　too　much；　shall　we？　They　are　vulnerable　to　the　right　sort　of　bullet；　once　we　load　it　in　the　gun。〃
　　　〃Don't　talk　that　way　in　front　of　Congress。　They　might　foul　their　panties；〃　Greer　warned；　with　a　laugh。　〃We're　supposed　to　enjoy　peaceful　coexistence　with　them。〃
　　　〃That　didn't　work　very　well　with　Hitler。　Stalin　and　Chamberlain　both　tried　to　make　nice　with　the　son　of　a　bitch。　Where　did　it　get　them？　They　are　our　enemies；　gentlemen；　and　the　sad　truth　is　that　we　can't　have　a　real　peace　with　them；　like　it　or　not。　Their　ideas　and　ours　are　too　out　of　sync　for　that。〃　He　held　up　his　hands。　〃Yeah；　I　know；　we're　not　supposed　to　think　that　way；　but　thank　God　the　President　does；　and　we　still　work　for　him。〃
　　　They　didn't　have　to　ment　on　that。　All　three　had　voted　for　the　current　President；　despite　the　institutional　joke　that　the　two　things　one　never　found　at　Langley　were　munists　and。。。　Republicans。　No；　the　new　President　had　a　little　iron　in　his　spine　and　a　fox's　instinct　for　opportunity。　It　especially　appealed　to　Ritter；　who　was　the　cowboy　of　the　three；　if　also　the　most　abrasive。
　　　〃Okay。　I　have　some　budget　work　to　do　for　that　hearing　with　the　Senate　day　after　tomorrow；〃　Moore　announced；　breaking　up　the　meeting。
　　　Ryan　was　at　his　puter；　thinking　over　the　Battle　of　Leyte　Gulf；　when　the　phone　rang。　It　was　the　first　time　for　it；　with　its　oddly　trilling　ringer。　He　reached　in　his　pocket　for　the　plastic　key；　slid　it　into　the　appropriate　slot；　then　lifted　the　receiver。
　　　〃Stand　by；〃　a　mechanical　voice　said；　〃SYNCHRONIZING　THE　LINE；　STAND　BY；　SYNCHRONIZING　THE　LINE；　STAND　BY；　SYNCHRONIZING　THE　LINELINE　is　SECURE；〃　it　said　at　last。
　　　〃Hello；〃　Ryan　said；　wondering　who　had　an　STU　and　would　call　him　this　late。　It　turned　out　to　be　the　obvious　answer。
　　　〃Hi；　Jack；〃　a　familiar　voice　greeted　him。　One　nice　thing　about　the　STU：　The　digital　technology　made　voices　as　clear　as　if　the　speaker　were　sitting　in　the　room。
　　　Ryan　checked　the　desk　clock。　〃Kinda　late　there；　sir。〃
　　　〃Not　as　late　as　in　Jolly　Old　England。　How's　the　family？〃
　　　〃Mainly　asleep　at　the　moment。　Cathy　is　probably　reading　a　medical　journal；〃　which　was　what　she　did　instead　of　watching　TV；　anyway。　〃What　can　I　do　for　you；　Admiral？〃
　　　〃I　have　a　little　job　for　you。〃
　　　〃Okay；〃　Ryan　responded。
　　　〃Ask　around…casual…like…about　Yuriy　Andropov。　There　are　a　few　things　about　him　we　don't　know。　Maybe　Basil　has　the　information　we　want。〃
　　　〃What　exactly；　sir？〃　Jack　asked。
　　　〃Is　he　married；　and　does　he　have　any　kids？〃
　　　〃We　don't　know　if　he's　married？〃　Ryan　realized　that　he　hadn't　seen　that　information　in　the　dossier；　but　he'd　assumed　it　was　elsewhere；　and　had　taken　no　particular　note　of　it。
　　　〃That's　right。　The　Judge　wants　to　see　if　Basil　might　know。〃
　　　〃Okay；　I　can　ask　Simon。　How　important　is　this？〃
　　　〃Like　I　said；　casual…like；　like　it's　your　own　interest。　Then　call　me　back　from　there；　your　home；　I　mean。〃
　　　〃Will　do；　sir。　We　know　his　age；　birthday；　education；　and　stuff；　but　not　if　he's　married　or　has　any　kids；　eh？〃
　　　〃That's　how　it　works　sometimes。〃
　　　〃Yes；　sir。〃　And　that　got　Jack　thinking。　They　knew　everything　about　Brezhnev　but　his　dick　size。　They　did　know　his　daughter's　dress　size…12…which　someone　had　thought　important　enough　to　get　from　the　Belgian　milliner　who'd　sold　the　silken　wedding　dress　to　her　doting　father；　through　the　ambassador。　But　they　didn't　know　if　the　likely　next　General　Secretary　of　the　Soviet　Union　was　married。　Christ；　the　guy　was　pushing　sixty；　and　they　didn't　know？　What　the　hell？　〃Okay；　I　can　ask。　That　ought　not　to　be　too　hard。〃
　　　〃Otherwise；　how's　London？〃
　　　〃I　like　it　here；　and　so　does　Cathy；　but　she's　a　little　dubious　about　their　state　medical…care　system。〃
　　　〃Socialized　medicine？　I　don't　blame　her。　I　still　get　everything　done　at　Bethesda；　but　it　helps　a　little　that　I　have　'admiral'　in　front　of　my　name。　It's　not　quite　as　fast　for　a　retired　chief　bosun's　mate。〃
　　　〃I　bet。〃　In　Ryan's　case；　it　helped　a　whole　lot　that　his　wife　was　on　the　faculty　at　Johns　Hopkins。　He　didn't　talk　to　anyone　in　a　lab　coat　without　〃professor〃　on　his　nametag；　and　he'd　learned　that　in　the　field　of　medicine；　the　really　smart　ones　were　the　teachers；　unlike　the　rest　of　society。
　　　The　dreams　came　after　midnight；　though　he　had　no　way　of　knowing　that。　It　was　a　clear　Moscow　summer　day；　and　a　man　in　white　was　walking　across　the　Red　Square。　St。　Basil's　Cathedral　was　behind　him；　and　he　was　walking　against　the　traffic　past　Lenin's　mausoleum。　Some　children　were　with　him；　and　he　was　talking　to　them　in　a　kindly　way；　as　a　favored　uncle　might。。。　or　perhaps　a　parish　priest。　Then　Oleg　knew　that's　what　he　was；　a　parish　priest。　But　why　in　white？　With　gold　brocade；　even。　The　children；　four　or　five　each　of　boys　and　girls；　were　holding　his　hands　and　looking　up　at　him　with　innocent　smiles。　Then　Oleg　turned　his　head。　Up　at　the　top　of　the　tomb；　where　they　stood　for　the　May　Day　parades；　were　the　Politburo　members：　Brezhnev；　Suslov；　Ustinov；　and　Andropov。　Andropov　was　holding　a　rifle　and　pointing　at　the　little　procession。　There　were　other　people　around…faceless　people　walking　aimlessly；　going　about　their　business。　Then　Oleg　was　standing　with　Andropov；　listening　to　his　words。　He　was　arguing　for　the　right　to　shoot　the　man。　Be　careful　of　the　children；　Yuriy　Vladimirovich；　Suslov　warned。　Yes；　be　careful；　Brezhnev　agreed。　Ustinov　reached　over　to　adjust　the　sights　on　the　rifle。　They　all　ignored　Zaitzev；　who　moved　among　them；　trying　to　get　their　attention。
　　　But　why？　Zaitzev　asked。　Why　are　you　doing　this？
　　　Who　is　this？　Brezhnev　asked　Andropov。
　　　Never　mind　him；　Suslov　snarled。　Just　shoot　the　bastard！
　　　Very　well；　Andropov　said。　He　took　his　aim　carefully；　and　Zaitzev　was　unable　to　intervene；　despite　being　right　there。　Then　the　Chairman　squeezed　the　trigger。
　　　Zaitzev　was　back　on　the　street　now。　The　first　bullet　struck　a　child；　a　boy　on　the　priest's　right；　who　fell　without　a　sound。
　　　Not　him；　you　idiot…the　priest！　Mikhail　Suslov　screamed　like　a　rabid　dog。
　　　Andropov　shot　again；　this　time　hitting　a　little　blonde　girl　standing　at　the　priest's　left。　Her　head　exploded　in　red。　Zaitzev　bent　down　to　help　her；　but　she　said　it　was　all　right；　and　so　he　left　her　and　returned　to　the　priest。
　　　Look　out；　why　don't　you？
　　　Look　out　for　what；　my　young　rade？　The　priest　asked　pleasantly；　then　he　turned。　e；　children；　we're　off　to　see　God。
　　　Andropov　fired　again。　This　time　the　bullet　struck　the　priest　square　in　the　chest。　There　was　a　splash　of　blood；　about　the　size　and　color　of　a　rose。　The　priest　grimaced；　but　kept　going；　with　the　smiling　children　in　tow。
　　　Another　shot；　another　rose　on　the　chest；　to　the　left　of　the　first。　But　still　he　kept　going；　walking　slowly。
　　　Are　you　hurt？　Zaitzev　asked。
　　　It　is　nothing；　the　priest　replied。　But　why　didn't　you　stop　him？
　　　But　I　tried！　Zaitzev　insisted。
　　　The　priest　stopped　walking；　turning　to　look　him　square　in　the　face。　Did　you？
　　　That's　when　the　third　bullet　struck　him　right　in　the　heart。
　　　Did　you？　the　priest　asked　again。　Now　the　children　were　looking　at　him　and　not　the　priest。
　　　Zaitzev　found　himself　sitting　up　in　the　bed。　It　was　just　before　four　in　the　morning；　the　clock　said。　He　was　sweating　profusely。　There　was　only　one　thing　to　do。　He　rose　from　the　bed　and　walked　to　the　bathroom。　There　he　urinated；　then　had　himself　a　glass　of　water；　and　padded　off　to　the　kitchen。　Sitting　down　by　the　sink；　he　lit　a　cigarette。　Before　he　went　back　to　sleep；　he　wanted　to　be　fully　awake。　He　didn't　want　to　walk　back　into　that　dream。
　　　Out　the　window；　Moscow　was　quiet；　the　streets　pletely　empty…not　even　a　drunk　staggering　home。　A　good　thing；　too。　No　apartment　house　elevators　would　be　working　at　this　hour。　There　was　not　a　car　in　view；　which　was　a　little　odd；　but　not　so　much　as　in　a　Western　city。