tc.redrabbit-第67节

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d　not　appear　as　a　barrier　reef　to　rip　the　bottom　of　his　ship　out。　His　own　life　was　not　in　danger；　but；　as　he'd　been　pelled　by　professional　obligation　to　treat　the　money　of　his　clients　as　his　own；　so　he　had　to　regard　the　life　of　a　man　in　potential　danger　as　having　the　importance　of　the　life　of　his　own　child。
　　　And　that　was　where　the　itch　came　from。　He　could　call　Admiral　Greer；　Ryan　thought；　but　it　wasn't　even　seven　in　the　morning　in　Washington　yet；　and　he'd　be　doing　his　boss　no　favor　by　waking　him　up　to　the　trilling　sound　of　his　home　STU。　Especially　as　he　had　nothing　to　tell；　just　a　few　things　to　ask。　So　he　leaned　back　in　his　chair　and　stared　at　the　green　screen　of　his　Apple　monitor；　looking　for　something　that　just　wasn't　there。
　　　
　　　CHAPTER　17　…　FLASH　TRAFFIC
　　　Ed　foley　wrote　in　his　office：
　　　
　　　PRIORITY：　FLASH　
　　　TO：　DDO/CIA　
　　　CC：　DCI；　DDI　
　　　FROM：　COS　MOSCOW　
　　　SUBJECT：　RABBIT　
　　　TEXT　FOLLOWS：
WE　HAVE　A　RABBIT；　A　HIGHLY　PLACED　WALK…IN；　CLAIMS　TO　BE　MO　OFFICER　IN　KGB　CENTRE；　WITH　INFORMATION　OF　INTEREST　TO　USG。　ESTIMATION：　HE　IS　TRUTHFUL。　5/5。　URGENTLY　REQUEST　AUTHORIZATION　FOR　IMMEDIATE　EXFILTRATION　FROM　REDLAND。　PACKAGE　INCLUDES　RABBIT　WIFE　AND　DAUGHTER　（3）。　5/5　PRIORITY　REQUESTED。　ENDS
　　　
　　　There；　Foley　thought；　that's　concise　enough。　The　shorter　the　better　with　messages　like　this　one…it　provided　less　opportunity　for　the　opposition　to　work　on　the　text　and　crack　the　cipher；　in　the　event　they　got　their　hands　on　it。
　　　But　the　only　hands　that　would　touch　this　one　were　CIA。　He　was　betting　a　lot　on　this　op…dispatch。　5/5　meant　that　the　estimated　importance　of　the　information　available；　as　well　as　its　presumed　accuracy　and　the　priority　for　his　proposed　action；　was　class…5；　the　highest。　He　gave　an　identical　evaluation　for　the　accuracy　of　the　subject。　Four　aces…not　the　sort　of　dispatch　you　sent　out　every　day。　It　was　the　classification　he'd　give　to　a　message　from　Oleg　Penkovskiy；　or　from　Agent　CARDINAL　himself；　and　that　was　about　as　hot　a　potato　as　they　came。　He　thought　for　a　moment；　wondering　if　he　was　guessing　correctly；　but；　over　his　career；　Ed　Foley　had　learned　to　go　with　his　instincts。　He'd　also　measured　his　own　thoughts　against　those　of　his　wife；　and　her　instincts　were　just　as　finely　tuned。　Their　Rabbit…the　CIA　term　of　art　for　a　person　wanting　a　fast　ticket　out　of　whatever　bad　place　he　found　himself　in…claimed　a　lot；　but　he　gave　every　sign　of　being　what　he　claimed：　the　possessor　of　some　very　hot　information。　That　made　him　a　conscience　defector；　and　thus　pretty　reliable。　If　he　were　a　plant；　a　false…flag；　he　would　have　asked　for　money；　because　that's　how　KGB　thought　defectors　thought…and　CIA　had　never　done　anything　to　disabuse　them　of　that　notion。
　　　So；　it　just　felt　right；　though　〃feels　right〃　isn't　something　you　send　by　Diplomatic　Courier　to　the　Seventh　Floor。　They'd　have　to　play　along　with　this。　They　had　to　trust　him。　He　was　Chief　of　Station　in　Moscow；　the　CIA's　top　field　posting；　and　with　that　came　a　truckload　of　credibility。　They'd　have　to　weigh　it　against　whatever　misgivings　they　were　feeling。　If　a　summit　meeting　were　scheduled；　then　that　might　queer　the　deal；　but　the　President　had　no　such　plans；　nor　did　SecState。　So　there　was　nothing　in　the　way　of　Langley　approving　some　form　of　action…if　they　thought　he　was　right。。。
　　　Foley　didn't　even　know　why　he　was　questioning　himself。　He　was　The　Man　in　Moscow；　and　that；　by　God；　was　that。　He　lifted　the　phone　and　punched　three　buttons。
　　　〃Russell；〃　a　voice　said。
　　　〃Mike；　this　is　Ed。　I　need　you　here。〃
　　　〃Right。〃
　　　It　took　a　minute　and　a　half。　The　door　opened。
　　　〃Yeah；　Ed？〃
　　　〃Something　for　the　bag。〃
　　　Russell　checked　his　watch。　〃Not　much　margin；　guy。〃
　　　〃It's　short。　I'll　have　to　e　down　with　you　on　this　one。〃
　　　〃Well；　let's　get　it　on；　then；　bro。〃　Russell　walked　out　the　door；　with　Foley　in　pursuit。　Fortunately；　the　corridor　was　empty；　and　his　office　was　not　far。
　　　Russell　sat　down　in　his　swivel　chair　and　lit　up　his　cipher　machine。　Foley　handed　the　sheet　over。　Russell　clipped　it　to　a　fixture　right　over　the　keyboard。　〃Short　enough；〃　he　said　approvingly；　and　started　typing。　He　was　nearly　as　skillful　as　the　Ambassador's　own　secretary；　and　he　finished　the　job　in　a　minute；　including　some　padding…sixteen　surnames　taken　at　random　from　the　Prague　telephone　book。　When　the　new　page　came　out　of　the　machine；　Foley　took　it；　folded　it；　tucked　it　in　a　manila　envelope；　and　sealed　it。　Wax　was　dripped　over　the　closure；　and　Foley　handed　the　envelope　back　to　Russell。
　　　〃Back　in　five；　Ed；〃　the　munications　officer　said　on　his　way　out　the　door。　He　took　the　elevator　down　to　the　first　floor。　The　diplomatic　courier　was　there。　His　name　was　Tommy　Cox；　a　former　Army　warrant　officer/helicopter　pilot　who'd　been　shot　down　four　times　in　the　Central　Highlands　as　part　of　the　First　Cavalry　Division；　and　a　man　who　had　only　the　most　negative　feelings　for　his　country's　adversaries。　The　Diplomatic　Bag　was　a　canvas　carry…on…type　bag　that　would　be　handcuffed　to　his　wrist　during　transit。　He　was　already　booked　on　a　Pan　Am　747　direct　flight　to　New　York's　Kennedy　International；　a　flight　of　eleven　hours；　during　which　he　would　neither　drink　nor　sleep；　though　he　did　have　three　paperback　mysteries　to　read　along　the　way。　He'd　be　leaving　the　embassy　in　an　official　car　in　ten　minutes；　and　his　diplomatic　credentials　meant　he　wouldn't　be　troubled　with　security　or　immigration　procedures。　The　Russians　were　actually　fairly　cordial　about　that；　though　they　probably　drooled　over　the　chance　of　seeing　what　was　inside　the　canvas　bag。　For　sure；　it　wasn't　Russian　perfume　or　pantyhose　for　a　friend　in　New　York　or　Washington。
　　　〃Good　flight；　Tommy。〃
　　　Cox　nodded。　〃Roger　that；　Mike。〃
　　　Russell　headed　back　to　Foley's　office　topside。　〃Okay；　it's　in　the　bag。　Flight　leaves　in　an　hour　and　ten　minutes；　man。〃
　　　〃Good。〃
　　　〃Is　a　Rabbit　what　I　think　it　is？〃
　　　〃Can't　say；　Mike；〃　Foley　pointed　out。
　　　〃Yeah；　I　know；　Ed。　Excuse　my　question。〃　Russell　wasn't　one　to　break　the　rules；　though　he　had　as　much　curiosity　as　the　next　man。　And　he　knew　what　a　Rabbit　was；　of　course。　He'd　spent　his　entire　life　inside　the　black　world　in　one　capacity　or　another；　and　the　jargon　wasn't　all　that　hard　to　pick　up。　But　the　black　world　had　walls；　and　that　was　that。
　　　Foley　took　his　copy　of　the　message；　tucked　it　in　his　office　safe；　and　set　both　the　bination　and　the　alarm。　Then　he　headed　down　to　the　embassy　cafeteria；　where　a　TV　was　tuned　in　to　ESPN。　There　he　learned　that　his　Yankees　had　lost　another　one…three　straight；　and　in　a　pennant　race！　Is　there　no　fairness　in　the　world？　he　grumbled。
　　　Mary　Pat　was　doing　housework；　which　was　boring；　but　a　good　opportunity　for　her　to　put　her　brain　in　neutral　while　her　imagination　ran　wild。　Okay；　she'd　be　meeting　Oleg　Ivanovich　again。　It　would　be　up　to　her　to　figure　a　way　to　get　the　〃package〃…yet　another　CIA　term　of　art；　meaning　the　material　or　person（s）　to　be　taken　out　of　the　country…to　a　safe　place。　There　were　many　ways　to　do　such　a　thing。　They　were　all　dangerous；　but　she　and　Ed　and　other　CIA　field　spooks　were　trained　to　do　dangerous　things。　Moscow　was　a　city　of　millions；　and　in　such　an　environment　three　people　on　the　move　were　just　part　of　the　background　noise；　like　one　single　leaf　falling　in　an　autumn　forest；　one　more　buffalo　in　the　herd　in　Yellowstone　National　Park；　one　more　car　on　the　L。A。　Freeway　during　rush　hour。　That　wasn't　hard；　was　it？
　　　Well；　actually；　it　was。　In　the　Soviet　Union；　every　aspect　of　personal　life　was　subject　to　control。　As　applied　to　America；　sure；　the　package　was　just　one　more　car　on　the　L。A。　Freeway；　but　going　to　Las　Vegas　meant　crossing　a　state　line；　and　you　had　to　have　a　reason　for　that。　Nothing　was　easy　here　in　the　sense　that　everything　was　easy　in　America。
　　　And　there　was　something　else。。。
　　　It　would　be　better；　Mary　Pat　thought；　that　the　Russians　didn't　know　he　was　gone。　After　all；　it　was　not　a　murder　if　there　wasn't　a　corpse　to　let　every　one　know　that　somebody　had　died。　And　it　wasn't　a　defection　unless　they　knew　that　one　of　their　citizens　had　turned　up　somewhere　else…where　he　wasn't　supposed　to　be。　So；　how　much　the　better。。。　was　it　possible。。。？　she　wondered。
　　　Wouldn't　that　be　a　kick　in　the　ass？　But　how　to　make　it　happen？　It　was　something　to　speculate　on　while　she　vacuumed　the　living　room　rug。　And；　oh；　by　the　way；　vacuuming　would　invalidate　whatever　bugs　the　Russians　had　implanted　in　the　walls。。。　And　so　she　stopped　at　once。　Why　waste　that　chance？　She　and　Ed　could　municate　with　their　hands；　but　the　bandwidth　was　like　maple　syrup　in　January。
　　　She　wondered　if　Ed　would　go　for　this。　He　might；　she　thought。　It　wasn't　the　sort　of　thing　he'd　think　up。　Ed；　for　all　his　skills；　wasn't　a　cowboy。　Though　he　had　his　talents；　and　good　ones　they　were；　he　was　more　a　bomber　pilot　than　a　fighter　pilot。　But　Mary　Pat　thought　like　Chuck　Yeager　in　the　X…1；　like　Pete　Conrad　in　the　lunar　module。　She　was　just　better　at　thinking　long…ball。
　　　The　idea　also　had　strategic　implications。　If　they　could　get　their　Rabbit　out　unknown　to　the　opposition；　then　they　could　make　indefinite　use　of　whatever　he　knew；　and　that　possibility；　if　you　could　figure　out　how　to　make　it　happen；　was　very　enticing　indeed。　It　wouldn't　be　easy；　and　it　might　be　a　needless　plication…and　if　so；　it　could　be　discarded…bu