jamesclavell.noblehouse-第141节
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irting Government House where the governor lived； and the Botanical Gardens。 Passing the palace； Suslev had wondered absently when the Hammer and Sickle would fly atop the empty flagpole。 Soon； he had thought contentedly。 With Arthur's help and Sevrin's … very soon。 Just a few more years。
He peered at his watch。 He would be a little late but that did not worry him。 Arthur was always late； never less than ten minutes； never more than twenty。 Dangerous to be a man of habit in our profession； he thought。 But dangerous or not； Arthur's an enormous asset and Sevrin； his creation； a brilliant； vital tool in our KGB armament； buried so deep； waiting so patiently； like all the other Sevrins throughout the world。 Only ninety…odd thousands of us KGB officers and yet we almost rule the world。 We've already changed it； changed it permanently； already we own half 。。。 and in such a short time； only since 1917。
So few of us； so many of them。 But now our tentacles reach out into every corner。 Our armies of assistants … informers； fools； parasites； traitors； the twisted self…deluders and misshapen； misbegotten believers we so deliberately recruit are in every land； feeding off one another like the vermin they all are； fueled by their own selfish wants and fears； all expendable sooner or later。 And everywhere one of us； one of the elite； the KGB officers； in the center of each web； controlling guiding eliminating。 Webs within webs up to the Presidium of all the Soviets and now so tightly woven into the fabric of Mother Russia as to be indestructible。 We are modern Russia； he thought proudly。 We're Lenin's spearhead。 Without us and our techniques and our orchestrated use of terror there would be no Soviet Russia； no Soviet Empire； no driving force to keep the rulers of the Party all powerful … and nowhere on earth would there be a munist state。 Yes； we're the elite。
His smile deepened。
It was hot and sultry inside the taxi even though the windows were open as it curled upward through this residential area with its ribbons of great gardenless apartment blocks that sat on small pads chewed out of the mountainside。 A bead of sweat trickled down his cheek and he wiped it off； his whole body feeling clammy。
I'd love a shower； he thought； letting his mind wander。 A shower with cool sweet Georgian water； not this saline filth they put through Hong Kong's pipes。 I'd love to be in the dacha near Tiflis； oh that would be grand！ Yes； back in the dacha with Father and Mother and I'd swim in the stream running through our land and dry off in the sun； a great Georgian wine cooling in the stream and the mountains nearby。 That's Eden if there ever was an Eden。 Mountains and pastures； grapes and harvest and the air so clean。
He chuckled as he remembered the fabrication about his past he had told Travkin。 That parasite！ Just another fool； another tool to be used and； when blunt； discarded。
His father had been a munist since the very early days … first in the Cheka； secretly； and then； since its inception in 1917； in the KGB。 Now in his late seventies； still tall and upright and in honored retirement； he lived like an old…fashioned prince with servants and horses and bodyguards。 Suslev was sure that he would inherit the same dacha； the same land； the same honor in due course。 So would his son； a fledgling in the KGB； if his service continued to be excellent。 His own work merited it； his record was impressive and he was only fifty…two。
Yes； he told himself confidently； in thirteen years I'm due for retirement。 Thirteen great more years； helping the attack move forward； never easing up whatever the enemy does。
And who is the enemy； the real enemy？
All those who disobey us； all those who refuse our eminence … Russians most of all。
He laughed out loud。
The weary sour…faced young driver glanced up briefly at the rear mirror then went back to his driving； hoping his passenger was drunk enough to misread the meter and give him a great tip。 He pulled up at the address he had been given。
Rose Court on Kotewall Road was a modern fourteen…story apartment block。 Below were three floors of garage space and around it a small ribbon of concrete and below that； down a slight concrete embankment； was Sinclair Road and Sinclair Towers and more apartment blocks that nestled into the mountainside。 This was a choice area to live。 The view was grand； the apartments were below the clouds that frequently shrouded the upper reaches of the Peak where walls would sweat； linens would mildew and everything would seem to be perpetually damp。
The meter read 8。70 HK。 Suslev peered at a bunch of notes； gave the driver 100 instead of a 10 and got out heavily。 A Chinese woman was fanning herself impatiently。 He lurched toward the apartment inter。 She told the driver to wait for her husband and looked after Suslev disgustedly。
His feet were unsteady。 He found the button he sought and pressed it： Ernest Clinker； Esq。； Manager。
〃Yes？〃
〃Ernie； it's me； Gregor；〃 he said thickly with a belch。 〃Are you in？〃
The cockney voice laughed。 〃Not on your nelly！ 'Course I'm in； mate！ You're late！ You sound as though you've been on a pub crawl！ Beer's up； vodka's up； and me'n Mabel's here to greet you！〃
Suslev headed for the elevator。 He pressed the down button。 On the lowest level he got out into the open garage and went to the far side。 The apartment door was already open and a ruddy…faced； ugly little man in his sixties held out his hand。 〃Stone the bloody crows；〃 Clinker said； a grin showing cheap false teeth； 〃you're a bit under the weather； ain'cher？〃 Suslev gave him a bear hug which was returned and they went inside。
The apartment was two tiny bedrooms； living room； kitchen； bathroom。 The rooms were poorly furnished but pleasant； and the only real luxury a small tape deck that was playing opera loudly。
〃Beer or vodka？〃
Suslev beamed and belched。 〃First a piss； then vodka； then 。。。 then another and then 。。。 then bed。〃 He belched hugely； lurching for the toilet。
〃Right you are； Cap'n me old sport！ Hey； Mabel； say hello to the Cap'n！〃 The sleepy old bulldog on her well…chewed mat opened one eye briefly； barked once and was almost instantly wheezily asleep again。 Clinker beamed and went to the table and poured a stiff vodka and a glass of water。 No ice。 He drank some Guinness then called out； 〃How long you staying； Gregor？〃
〃Just tonight； tovarich。 Perhaps tomorrow night。 Tomorrow 。。。 tomorrow I've got to be back aboard。 But tomorrow night 。。。 perhaps； eh？〃
〃What about Ginny？ She throw you out again 。。。 ？〃
In the nondescript van that was parked down the road； Roger Crosse； Brian Kwok and the police radio technician were listening to this conversation through a loudspeaker； the quality of the bug good with little static； the van packed with radio surveillance equipment。 They heard Clinker chuckle and say again； 〃She threw you out； eh？〃
〃All evening we jig…jig and she 。。。 she says go stay with Ernie and leave me 。。。 leave me sleep！〃
〃You're a lucky bugger。 She's a princess that one。 Bring her over tomorrer。〃
〃Yes 。。。 yes I 。。。 will。 Yes she's the best。〃
They heard Suslev pour a bucket of water into the toilet and e back。
〃Here； old chum！〃
〃Thank you。〃 The sound of thirsty drinking。 〃I 。。。 I think 。。。 I think I want to lie down for 。。。 lie down。 A few minutes 。。。〃
〃A few hours more like！ Don't you fret； I'll cook breakfast。 Here； wanta 'nother drink。 。。。〃
The policemen in the van were listening carefully。 Crosse had ordered the bug put into Clinker's apartment two years ago。 Periodically it was monitored； always when Suslev was there。 Suslev； always under loose surveillance； had met Clinker in a bar。 Both men were submariners and they had struck up a friendship。 Clinker had invited him to stay and from time to time Suslev did。 At once Crosse had instituted a security check on Clinker but nothing untoward had been discovered。 For twenty years Clinker had been a sailor with the Royal Navy。 After the war he had drifted from job to job in the Merchant Marine； throughout Asia to Hong Kong； where he had settled when he retired。 He was a quiet； easygoing man who lived alone and had been Rose Court's caretaker…janitor for five years now。 Suslev and Clinker were a matched pair who drank a lot； caroused a lot and swapped stories。 None of their hours of talk had produced anything considered valuable。
〃He's had his usual tankful； Brian；〃 Crosse said。
〃Yes sir。〃 Brian Kwok was bored and tried not to show it。
In the small living room Clinker gave Suslev his shoulder。 〃e on； it's you for a kip。〃 He stepped over the glass and helped Suslev into the small bedroom。 Suslev lay down heavily and sighed。
Clinker closed the drapes then went over to another small tape deck and turned it on。 In a moment heavy breathing and the beginnings of a snore came from the tape。 Suslev got up soundlessly； his pretended drunkenness gone。 Clinker was already on his hands and knees。 He pulled away a mat and opened the trapdoor。 Noiselessly； Suslev went down into it。 Clinker grinned； slapped him on the back and closed the well…greased door after him。 The trapdoor steps led to a rough tunnel that quickly joined the large； dry； subterranean culvert storm d
