tc.redrabbit-第84节

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oked　dramatic　but　could　actually　be　quite　boring；　since　it　involved　writing　endless　reports。　He　ran　field　tasks　himself。　That　ran　the　risk　of　his　being　burned；　as　Jim　Szell　had　been…bloody　awful　luck；　nothing　more　than　that；　Hudson　had　learned　from　a　source　named　BOOT；　who　was　right　inside　the　AVH。　But　in　the　danger　came　the　charm　of　the　job。　It　was　less　dangerous　than　jumping　out　the　back　of　a　Lockheed　Hercules　with　sixty　pounds　of　weapons　and　rations　strapped　to　your　back。　Also　less　dangerous　than　patrolling　Belfast　with　Provos　about。　But　it　was　the　skills　learned　in　the　city　streets　of　Ulster　that　gave　him　his　street　smarts　as　a　spook。　As　with　everything　else　in　life；　you　took　the　bitter　with　the　sweet。　But　better；　he　told　himself；　to　take　his　bitter　by　the　pint。
　　　He　had　a　rabbit　ing　out。　That　ought　not　to　be　difficult；　though　this　rabbit　had　to　be　an　important　one；　so　much　so　that　CIA　was　asking　for　assistance　from　〃Six；〃　and　that　didn't　happen　every　day。　Only　when　the　bloody　Yanks　buggered　things　up；　which　was；　Hudson　thought；　not　too　infrequent。
　　　There　was　nothing　for　him　to　do　as　yet。　He　could　not　know　what　needed　to　be　done　until　he　had　a　lot　more　specifics；　but　in　the　abstract　he　knew　how　to　get　people　out　of　Hungary。　It　wasn't　all　that　hard。　The　Hungarians　were　insufficiently　wedded　to　Marxism　to　be　that　serious　an　adversary。　So；　he　sent　off　a　〃message　received〃　dispatch　to　Century　House　and　awaited　further　developments。
　　　The　british　airways　noon　flight　to　Moscow　was　a　Boeing　737　twin…engine　jet。　The　flight　took　about　four　hours；　depending　on　winds；　which　were　fairly　calm　today。　On　arriving　at　Sheremetyevo　Airport；　the　Diplomatic　Courier　walked　out　the　forward　door　and　breezed　through　immigration　control　on　the　strength　of　his　canvas　bag　and　diplomatic　passport；　then　walked　to　the　waiting　embassy　car　for　the　drive　into　town。　The　courier　had　been　there　and　done　that　many　times；　enough　so　that　his　driver　and　the　embassy　guards　knew　him　by　sight；　and　he　knew　his　own　way　around　the　embassy。　With　his　delivery　made；　he　headed　down　to　the　canteen　for　a　hot　dog　and　a　beer；　and　settled　into　his　newest　paperback　book。　It　occurred　to　him　that　he　needed　to　exercise　some；　since　his　job　was　entirely　occupied　with　sitting　down；　in　cars　and　mainly　in　airplanes。　It　couldn't　be　healthy；　he　thought。
　　　Mike　Russell　looked　over　the　monstrous　one…time　pad　he'd　been　sent；　hoping　that　he　wouldn't　have　to　use　it　all　in　one　day。　The　sheer　drudgery　of　transposing　random　letters　was　enough　to　drive　a　man　mad；　and　there　had　to　be　an　easier　way。　That　was　what　his　KH…7　encrypting　machines　were　for；　but　Foley　had　suggested　to　him　that　the　…7　was　not　fully　secure；　which　thought　outraged　the　professional　in　him。　The　KH…7　was　the　most　sophisticated　encryption　machine　ever　made；　easy　to　use；　and　utterly　impossible…so　he　thought…to　crack。　He　knew　the　design　team　of　mathematicians　who'd　figured　out　the　algorithms。　The　algebraic　formulas　used　in　the　…7　were　sufficiently　over　his　head　that　he　had　to　strain　to　see　the　bottom。。。　But　what　one　mathematician　could　make；　another；　in　theory；　could　break；　and　the　Russians　had　good　ones。　And　from　that　fact　came　the　nightmare：　The　munications　that　it　was　his　job　to　protect　were　being　read　by　the　enemy。
　　　And　that　just　wouldn't　do。
　　　So；　he　had　to　use　this　pad　for　super…critical　munications；　inconvenient　or　not。　It　wasn't　as　though　he　had　much　of　a　social　life　in　Moscow。　Ordinary　Russian　citizens　viewed　his　dark　skin　as　an　indication　of　some　relationship　with　some　tree…climbing　African　monkey；　which　was　so　offensive　to　Russell　that　he　never　talked　about　it　to　anyone；　just　let　it　generate　rage　in　his　heart；　the　sort　of　deep…soul　anger　that　he'd　felt　for　the　Ku　Klux　Klan　before　the　FBI　had　put　those　ignorant　crackers　out　of　business。　Maybe　they　still　hated　him；　but　a　steer　could　lust　after　a　lot　of　things　without　being　able　to　fuck　them；　and　so　it　was　with　those　bigoted　idiots　who'd　forgotten　that　Ulysses　Simpson　Grant　had　defeated　Bobby　Lee；　after　all。　They　could　hate　all　they　wanted；　but　the　prospect　of　Leavenworth　Federal　Pen　kept　them　in　their　dark　little　holes。　The　Russians　are　just　as　bad；　Russell　thought；　racist　cocksuckers。　But　he　had　his　books　and　his　tape　player　for　cool　jazz；　and　the　extra　pay　that　came　with　this　hardship　post。　And　for　now　he'd　show　Ivan　a　signal　he　couldn't　crack；　and　Foley　would　get　his　Rabbit　out。　He　lifted　his　phone　and　dialed　the　proper　numbers。
　　　〃Foley。〃
　　　〃Russell。　Want　to　e　down　to　my　office　for　a　minute？〃
　　　〃On　the　way；〃　the　Station　Chief　replied。　Four　minutes。　〃What　is　it；　Mike？〃　he　asked；　ing　through　the　door。
　　　Russell　held　up　the　ring　binder。　〃Only　three　copies　of　this。　Us；　Langley；　and　Fort　Meade。　You　want　secure；　my　man；　you　got　secure。　Just　try　to　keep　the　messages　short；　okay？　This　shit　can　really　jack　up　my　blood　pressure。〃
　　　〃Okay；　Mike。　Shame　there　isn't　a　better　way　of　doing　that。〃
　　　〃Maybe　someday。　Ought　to　be　a　way　to　do　it　with　a　puter…you　know；　put　the　pad　on　a　floppy　disk。　Maybe　I'll　write　to　Fort　Meade　about　it；〃　Russell　thought。　〃This　stuff　can　make　you　cross…eyed。〃
　　　Better　you　than　me；　Foley　couldn't　say。　〃Okay；　I'll　have　something　for　you　later　today。〃
　　　〃Right。〃　Russell　nodded。　He　didn't　have　to　add　that　it　would　also　be　enciphered　on　his　KH…7　and　then　super…encrypted　with　the　pad。　He　hoped　that　Ivan　would　intercept　the　signal　and　give　his　cryptanalysts　the　document　to　work　on。　Thinking　about　those　bastards　going　nuts　over　one　of　his　signals　was　one　of　the　things　he　liked　to　smile　about。　Fine；　give　their　world…class　math　aces　this　stuff　to　fool　with。
　　　But　there　was　no　telling。　If　KGB　had　managed；　for　example；　to　plant　a　bug　in　the　building；　it　would　be　powered　not　by　an　internal　battery；　but　rather　by　microwave　emanations　from　Our　Lady　of　the　Microchips　across　the　street。　He　had　two　permanent　staff　people　who　roamed　the　embassy；　searching　for　unexplained　RF　signals。　Every　so　often；　they　found　one　and　dug　the　bug　out；　but　the　last　of　those　had　been　twenty　months　before。　Now　they　said　that　the　embassy　was　fully　swept　and　fully　clean。　But　nobody　believed　that。　Ivan　was　just　too　clever。　Russell　wondered　how　Foley　kept　his　identity　a　secret；　but　that　was　not　his　problem。　Keeping　the　ms　secure　was　hard　enough。
　　　Back　in　his　office；　Foley　drafted　his　next　signal　to　Langley；　trying　to　keep　it　as　short　as　possible　to　make　it　easy　for　Russell。　It　would　surely　open　some　eyes　on　the　Seventh　Floor。　He　hoped　that　the　Brits　hadn't　gotten　word　on　the　idea　to　Washington　yet。　That　would　be　seen　as　a　major　impropriety；　and　senior　officials　everywhere　got　their　noses　out　of　joint　on　trivial　crap　like　that。　But　with　some　things　you　just　didn't　have　time　to　run　it　through　channels；　and　as　a　senior　Station　Chief；　it　was　expected　that　he　would　show　some　initiative　once　in　a　while。
　　　And　along　with　initiative；　maybe　a　little　panache。
　　　Foley　checked　his　watch。　He　was　wearing　his　reddest　tie；　and　he　was　an　hour　and　a　half　from　taking　the　metro　home；　and　the　Rabbit　needed　to　see　him　and　the　flag　signal。　A　little　voice　was　telling　Foley　to　get　BEATRIX　moving　as　fast　as　practicable。　Whether　it　was　danger　to　the　Rabbit　or　something　else；　he　couldn't　tell；　but　Foley　was　one　to　trust　his　instincts。
　　　
　　　CHAPTER　21　…　VACATION
　　　It　wasn't　easy；　really；　to　make　sure　one　took　the　right　subway　train。　Both　the　Rabbit　and　Foley　were　using　the　inhuman　efficiency　of　what　had　to　be　the　only　aspect　of　Soviet　life　that　actually　functioned　properly；　and　the　remarkable　thing　was　that　the　trains　ran　on　a　schedule　that　was　as　regular　and　predictable　as　the　setting　of　the　sun；　just　far　more　frequent。　Foley　got　his　dispatch　into　Mike　Russell's　hands；　then　put　his　raincoat　on　and　walked　out　the　embassy　front　door　at　exactly　the　right　moment；　walked　at　exactly　the　usual　pace；　and　got　to　the　subway　platform　at　exactly　the　right　time；　then　turned　to　verify　it　with　the　clock　that　hung　on　the　ceiling　of　the　station。　Yeah；　he'd　done　it　again。　The　train　pulled　in；　just　as　the　previous　train　pulled　out；　and　Foley　walked　aboard　the　usual　car；　turning　to　see。。。　yes；　the　Rabbit　was　there。　Foley　unfolded　his　paper。　His　unbuttoned　raincoat　hung　loosely　on　his　shoulders。
　　　Zaitzev　was　actually　surprised　to　see　the　red　tie；　but　he　could　hardly　plain。　As　usual；　he　inched　his　way　in　the　proper　direction。
　　　It　was　almost　routine　now；　the　COS　thought。　He　felt　the　hand　surreptitiously　enter　his　pocket　and　withdraw。　Then　his　acute　senses　felt　the　man　take　a　step　away。　Hopefully；　there　would　be　little　more　of　this。　It　was　safe　for　Foley；　but　decidedly　unsafe　for　the　Rabbit；　however　skillful　he　might　have　bee　at　this　exercise。　The　presence　of　others　on　this　subway　car…some　faces　he　recognized　from　repetition…could　well　represent　people　of　the　Second　Chief　Directorate。　There　could　be　intermittent　surveillance　on　him；　using　a　bunch　of　different　officers。　That　would　be　a　sensible　tactic　for　the　opposition　to　use；　on　and　off；　to　diminish　the　chance　that　he'd　spot　them。
　　　In　due　course；　as　before；　the　train　arrived　at　the　appointed　stop；　and　Foley　walked　off。　In　a　few　more　weeks；　he'd　have　to　put　the　lining　in　his　coat；　and　maybe　even　wear　the　shapka　Mary　Pat　had　bought　him。　He　had　to　start　thinki