tc.redrabbit-第102部分

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h　the　picture。　The　same　was　true　of　the　grown　woman；　though　her　body　mass　and　configuration　were　about　right。　Her　face　was　virtually　untouched　by　the　fire；　the　toxic　gasses　of　which　had　ended　her　life。　And　so　both　of　them　would　have　to　be　grossly　disfigured　to　be　usable　for　Operation　BEATRIX。　This　was　done　with　propane　blowtorches。　First；　the　senior　of　the　two　turned　on　the　powerful　exhaust　fan　in　the　ceiling。　Both　then　donned　fire…protective　coveralls　and　lit　their　torches。　These　were　heartlessly　applied　to　both　faces。　Hair　color　was　wrong　in　both　cases；　and　so　that　was　burned　off　first　of　all。　Then　the　torches　were　applied　at　close　range　to　both　faces。　It　went　quickly；　but　not　quickly　enough　for　the　two　SIS　employees。　The　one　doing　the　little　girl　breathed　a　series　of　prayers　for　her　child's　soul；　knowing　that　she　was　wherever　innocent　children　went。　That　which　remained　was　just　cold　meat；　of　no　value　to　its　previous　owner；　but　of　some　value　to　the　United　Kingdom…and　doubtless　the　United　States　of　America　as　well；　else　they　would　not　be　doing　such　ghoulish　work　as　this。　It　was　when　the　little　girl's　left　eye　exploded　from　internal　pressure　that　her　tormentor　had　to　turn　away　and　vomit。　But　it　had　to　be　done。　Her　eyes　were　the　wrong　color。
　　　Hands　and　feet　had　to　be　well…charred；　and　both　bodies　were　examined　for　tattoos；　scars；　or　other　distinguishing　characteristics；　but　none　were　found；　not　even　an　appendectomy　scar。
　　　All　in　all；　it　took　ninety　minutes　before　they　were　satisfied　with　their　work。　Then　the　bodies　had　to　be　dressed。　Clothing　of　Soviet　origin　was　maneuvered　onto　the　bodies；　and　then　that　had　to　be　burned　so　that　the　fibers　would　be　enmeshed　with　the　surface　burns。　With　all　this　grisly　work　done；　the　bodies　were　reloaded　into　their　transport　boxes；　and　more　dry　ice　was　added　to　keep　them　cool　enough　to　retard　decay。　The　boxes　were　set　near　a　third　identical　such　box　in　the　corner　of　the　room。　By　then　it　was　lunchtime；　but　neither　of　them　cared　much　for　food　at　the　moment。　A　few　shots　of　whiskey　were　more　what　they　needed；　and　there　were　plenty　of　pubs　within　walking　distance。
　　　〃Jack？〃　Sir　Basil　stuck　his　head　through　the　door　to　find　Ryan　going　over　his　documents；　like　a　good　analyst。
　　　〃Yes；　sir；〃　Ryan　responded；　looking　up。
　　　〃Are　you　packed？〃
　　　〃My　stuff　is　at　home；　but　yes；　sir。〃
　　　〃Good。　You're　on　the　BA　flight　from　Heathrow　Terminal　Three　at　eight　this　evening。　We'll　have　a　car　to　run　you　home　to　pick　up　your　things…say；　about　three…thirty？〃
　　　〃I　haven't　gotten　my　passport　and　visa　yet；〃　Ryan　told　C。
　　　〃You'll　have　it　after　lunch。　Your　overt　cover　is　as　an　auditor　from　the　Foreign　Office。　As　I　recall；　you　had　an　accountant's　charter　once　upon　a　time。　Perhaps　you　can　look　over　the　books　while　you're　there。〃　This　was　funny；　Charleston　thought。
　　　Ryan　tried　to　return　the　favor。　〃Probably　more　interesting　than　the　local　stock　market。　Anyone　going　with　me？〃
　　　〃No；　but　you'll　be　met　at　the　airport　by　Andy　Hudson。　He's　our　Station　Chief　in　Budapest。　Good　man；〃　Sir　Basil　promised。　〃Stop　in　to　see　me　before　you　head　off。〃
　　　〃Will　do；　sir。〃　And　Basil's　head　vanished　back　into　the　corridor。　〃Simon；　how　about　a　pint　and　a　sandwich？〃　Ryan　said　to　his　workmate。　〃Fine　idea。〃　Harding　stood　and　got　his　coat。　They　walked　off　to　the　Duke　of　Clarence。
　　　Lunch　on　the　train　was　pleasant：　borscht；　noodles；　black　bread；　and　a　proper　dessert…strawberries　from　some　farm　or　other。　The　only　problem　was　that　Svetlana　didn't　care　for　borscht；　which　was　odd　for　a　Russian　native；　even　a　child。　She　picked　at　the　sour　cream　topping；　then　later　attacked　the　noodles　with　gusto　and　positively　devoured　the　late…season　strawberries。　They'd　just　climbed　through　the　low　Transylvanian　mountains　on　the　Bulgarian　border。　The　train　would　pass　through　Sofia；　then　turn　northwest　for　Belgrade；　Yugoslavia；　and　finally　Hungary。
　　　The　Zaitzevs　lingered　over　lunch；　Svetlana　peering　out　the　windows　as　the　train　approached　Sofia。
　　　Oleg　Ivanovich　did　the　same；　puffing　on　his　cigarette。　Passing　through　Sofia；　he　found　himself　wondering　which　building　housed　the　Dirzhavna　Sugurnost。　Was　Colonel　Bubovoy　there；　working　on　his　plot；　probably　with　that　Colonel　Strokov？　How　far　along　might　they　be？　Was　the　Pope's　life　in　immediate　danger？　How　would　he　feel　if　the　Polish　priest　was　murdered　before　he　could　get　his　warning　out？　Could　he　or　should　he　have　moved　faster？　These　damned　questions；　and　no　one　in　whom　he　could　confide　them！　You　are　doing　your　best；　Oleg　Ivan'ch；　he　told　himself；　and　no　man　can　do　more　than　that！
　　　The　Sofia　station　looked　like　a　cathedral；　an　impressive　stone　building　with　an　almost　religious　purpose。　Somehow　he　wasn't　worried　now　about　a　KGB　arrest　team　boarding　the　train。　His　only　thoughts　were　to　press　on；　get　to　Budapest；　and　see　what　the　CIA　did　there。。。　and　hope　they　were　petent。　KGB　could　do　a　job　like　this　with　consummate　professionalism；　almost　like　stage　magicians。　Was　CIA　also　that　good？　On　Russian　TV；　they　were　frequently　portrayed　as　evil　but　bumbling　adversaries…but　that　wasn't　what　they　said　at　The　Centre。　No；　at　#2　Dzerzhinskiy　Square；　they　were　thought　to　be　evil　spirits；　always　on　the　prowl；　clever　as　the　devil　himself；　the　most　deadly　of　enemies。　So；　which　was　true？　Certainly　he'd　find　out　quickly　enough…one　way　or　another。　Zaitzev　stubbed　out　his　cigarette　and　led　his　family　back　to　their　partments。
　　　〃Looking　forward　to　the　mission；　Jack？〃　Harding　asked。
　　　〃Yeah；　like　the　dentist。　And　don't　tell　me　how　easy　it'll　be。　You've　never　gone　out　in　the　field　either。〃
　　　〃Your　own　people　suggested　this；　you　know。〃
　　　〃So；　when　I　get　home…if　I　get　home…I'll　slug　Admiral　Greer；〃　Ryan　responded；　half…but　only　half…joking。　〃I'm　not　trained　for　this；　Simon；　remember？〃
　　　〃How　many　people　are　trained　to　deal　with　a　direct　physical　attack？　You've　done　that；〃　Simon　reminded　him。
　　　〃Okay；　I　was　a　marine　lieutenant　once；　for…what　was　it？…eleven　months　or　so；　before　the　helicopter　crunched　on　Crete　and　I　got　my　back　broke。　Shit；　I　don't　even　like　roller…coasters。　My　mom　and　dad　loved　the　goddamned　things；　they　were　always　taking　me　up　in　them　at　Gwynn　Oak　Amusement　Park　when　I　was　a　little　kid。　Expected　me　to　like　the　damned　things；　too。　Dad；〃　Ryan　explained；　〃was　a　paratrooper　in　the　One　hundred　first　Airborne；　back　forty　years　ago。　Falling　out　of　the　sky　didn't　worry　him　too　much。〃　That　was　followed　by　a　snort。　One　nice　thing　about　the　Marine　Corps；　they　didn't　make　you　jump　out　of　an　airplane。　Well；　damn；　Jack　thought　suddenly。　Was　he　more　worried　about　this　than　the　airline　flight？　That　caused　a　downward　look　and　an　ironic　chuckle。　〃Do　your　field　officers　carry　weapons？〃
　　　That　generated　a　laugh。　〃Only　in　the　movies；　Jack。　They're　bloody　heavy　to　lug　about；　and　they　can　be　difficult　to　explain。　There　are　no　double…o　people　in　SIS…at　least　not　to　my　knowledge。　The　French　occasionally　kill　people；　and　they　are　actually　rather　good　at　it。　So　are　the　Israelis；　but　people　do　make　mistakes；　even　trained　professionals；　and　that　sort　of　thing　can　be　difficult　to　explain　to　the　press。〃
　　　〃You　can't　invoke　a　D…notice？〃
　　　〃Theoretically；　yes；　but　they　can　be　difficult　to　enforce。　Fleet　Street　has　its　own　rules；　you　see。〃
　　　〃So　does　The　Washington　Post；　as　Nixon　found　out。　So　I　ought　not　to　kill　anyone。〃
　　　〃I　would　try　to　avoid　it；〃　Simon　agreed；　munching　on　his　turkey　sandwich。
　　　Belgrade…Beograd　to　its　natives…also　had　a　fine　station。　In　the　previous　century；　evidently；　architects　had　worked　hard　to　outdo　each　other；　like　the　pious　ones　who'd　built　cathedrals　in　the　Middle　Ages。　The　train　was　several　hours　late；　he　saw　with　surprise。　He　couldn't　see　why。　The　train　hadn't　stopped　for　any　length　of　time　anywhere。　Perhaps　it　wasn't　traveling　as　fast　as　it　was　supposed　to。　Leaving　Belgrade；　it　snaked　up　some　modest　hills；　and　none　too　quickly　at　that。　He　imagined　this　country　would　be　pretty　in　winter。　Wasn't　there　an　uping　Olympiad　hereabouts？　The　winter　probably　came　here　about　the　same　time　it　did　in　Moscow；　It　was　a　little　late　this　year；　but　that　usually　meant　it　would　be　unusually　harsh　when　it　arrived。　He　wondered　what　winter　would　be　like　in　America。。。
　　　〃Ready；　Jack？〃　Charleston　asked　in　his　office。
　　　〃I　suppose。〃　Jack　looked　at　his　new　passport。　Since　it　was　a　diplomatic　one；　it　was　a　little　more　ornate　than　the　usual；　and　bound　in　red　leather；　with　the　Royal　Coat　of　Arms　on　the　front　cover。　He　paged　through　it　to　see　the　stamps　of　all　the　places　he　had　not　visited。　Thailand；　the　People's　Republic　of　China。　Damn；　Jack　thought；　I　really　do　get　around。　〃Why　this　visa？〃　he　asked。　The　U。K。　didn't　require　them　for　anybody。
　　　〃Hungary　controls　movement　in　and　out　rather　sternly。　They　require　an　entry　and　exit　visa。　You'll　not　be　needing　the　latter；　I　expect；〃　C　observed。　〃Hudson　will　probably　be　taking　you　out　in　a　southerly　direction。　He　has　good　relations　with　the　local　smugglers。〃
　　　〃Walking　over　any　mountains？〃　Ryan　asked。
　　　Basil　shook　his　head。　〃No；　we　don't　often　do　that。　Car　or　truck；　I　should　think。　Ought　not　to　be　any　problem　at　all；　my　boy。〃　He　looked　up。　〃It　really　is　quite　routine；　Jack。〃
　　　〃You　say　so；　sir。〃　It　damned　sure　isn't　for　me；
　　　Charleston　stood。　〃Good　luck；　Jack。　S