tc.redrabbit-第113部分

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at　and　the　Belugyminiszterium；　their　Interior　Ministry；　might　take　notice。　Better　to　avoid　that；〃　Hudson　reminded　him。
　　　〃But　if　this　is　the　back　door　into　the　Warsaw　Pact…hell；　KGB's　gotta　know；　right？〃
　　　Hudson　pleted　the　question。　〃So；　why　don't　they　shut　things　down？　I　suppose　they　could；　but　the　local　economy　would　suffer；　and　the　Sovs　get　a　lot　of　the　things　they　like　here；　too。　Trent　tells　me　that　our　friend　has　made　some　major　purchases　here。　Tape　machines　and　pantyhose…bloody　pantyhose；　their　women　kill　for　the　things。　Probably　most　are　overtly　intended　for　friends　and　colleagues　back　in　Moscow。　So；　if　KGB　intervened；　or　forced　the　AVH　to　do　so；　then　they　would　lose　a　source　of　things　they　themselves　want。　So　a　little　corruption　doesn't　do　any　major　damage；　and　it　supplies　the　greed　of　the　other　side。　Never　forget　that　they　have　their　weaknesses；　too。　Probably　more　than　we　do；　in　fact；　much　as　people　argue　to　the　contrary。　They　want　the　things　we　have。　Official　channels　can't　work　very　well；　but　the　unofficial　ones　do。　There's　a　saying　in　Hungarian　that　I　like：　A　nagy　kapu　mellett；　mindig　van　egy　kis　kapu。　Next　to　the　big　gate；　there　is　always　a　little　door。　That　little　door　is　what　makes　things　work　over　here。〃
　　　〃And　I'm　going　through　it。〃
　　　〃Correct。〃　Andy　finished　his　wine　and　decided　against　another。　He　had　a　ways　to　drive　tonight；　in　the　dark；　over　inferior　roads。　Instead；　he　lit　one　of　his　cigars。
　　　Ryan　lit　a　smoke　of　his　own。　〃I've　never　done　this　before；　Andy。〃
　　　〃Frightened？〃
　　　〃Yeah；〃　Jack　admitted　freely。　〃Yeah；　I　am。〃
　　　〃First　time　is　never　easy。　I've　never　had　people　with　machine　guns　e　into　my　home。〃
　　　〃I　don't　remend　it　as　after…dinner　entertainment；〃　Jack　replied；　with　a　twisted　smile。　〃But　we　managed　to　luck　our　way　out　of　it。〃
　　　〃I　don't　really　believe　in　luck…well；　sometimes；　perhaps。　Luck　does　not　go　about　in　search　of　a　fool；　Sir　John。〃
　　　〃Maybe　so。　Kinda　hard　to　notice　from　the　inside。〃　Ryan　thought　back；　again；　to　that　dreadful　night。　The　feel　of　the　Uzi　in　his　hands。　Having　to　get　that　one　shot　right。　No　second　chance　in　that　ballgame。　And　he'd　dropped　to　one　knee；　taken　aim；　and　gotten　it　right。　He'd　never　learned　the　name　of　the　guy　in　the　boat　he'd　stitched　up。　Strange；　he　reflected。　If　you　kill　a　man　right　by　your　home；　you　should　at　least　know　his　name。
　　　But；　yeah；　if　he　could　do　that；　he　could　damned　well　do　this。　He　checked　his　watch。　It　would　be　a　while　still；　and　he　wasn't　driving　tonight；　and　another　glass　of　wine　seemed　a　good　idea。　But　he'd　stop　it　there。
　　　Back　at　the　Astoria；　the　Zaitzevs　got　their　little　Bunny　to　bed；　and　Oleg　ordered　some　vodka　to　be　brought　up。　It　was　the　generic　Russian　vodka　brand　that　the　working　class　drank；　a　half…liter　bottle　with　a　foil　closure　at　the　top　that　essentially　forced　you　to　drink　it　all　in　one　sitting。　Not　an　altogether　bad　idea　for　this　night。　The　bottle　arrived　in　five　minutes；　and　by　then　zaichik　was　asleep。　He　sat　on　the　bed。　His　wife　sat　in　the　one　upholstered　chair。　They　drank　from　tumblers　out　of　the　bathroom。
　　　Oleg　Ivan'ch　had　one　task　yet　to　perform。　His　wife　didn't　know　his　plan。　He　didn't　know　how　she'd　react　to　it。　He　knew　she　was　unhappy。　He　knew　that　this　trip　was　the　high　point　of　their　marriage。　He　knew　she　hated　her　job　at　GUM；　that　she　wanted　to　enjoy　the　finer　things　in　life。　But　would　she　willingly　leave　her　motherland　behind？
　　　On　the　plus　side　of　the　ledger；　Russian　women　did　not　enjoy　much　in　the　way　of　freedom；　within　their　marriages　or　without。　They　usually　did　what　their　husbands　told　them　to　do…the　husband　might　pay　for　it　later；　but　only　later。　And　she　loved　him　and　trusted　him；　and　he'd　shown　her　the　best　of　good　times　in　the　past　few　days；　and　so；　yes；　she'd　go　along。
　　　But　he'd　wait　before　telling　her。　Why　spoil　things　by　taking　a　risk　right　now？　Right　across　the　street　was　the　KGB's　Budapest　rezidentura。　And　if　they　got　word　of　what　he　had　planned；　then　he　was　surely　a　dead　man。
　　　Back　at　the　British　Embassy；　sergeants　Bob　Small　and　Rod　Truelove　lifted　the　plastic　bags　and　carried　them　to　the　embassy's　nondescript　truck…the　license　tags　had　already　been　switched。　Both　tried　to　ignore　the　contents；　then　went　back　to　get　the　alcohol　containers；　plus　a　candle　and　a　cardboard　milk　carton。　Then　they　were　ready。　Neither　had　so　much　as　a　glass　of　beer　that　night；　though　both　wished　otherwise。　They　drove　off　just　after　midnight；　planning　to　take　their　time　to　scout　the　objective　before　mitting　to　a　course　of　action。　The　hard　part　would　be　getting　the　right　parking　place；　but；　with　more　than　hour　to　pick　it；　they　were　confident　that　one　would　appear　in　due　course。
　　　The　bar　was　emptying　out；　and　Hudson　didn't　wish　to　be　the　last　one　in　there。　The　bar　bill　was　fifty　forints；　which　he　paid；　not　leaving　a　tip；　because　it　wasn't　the　local　custom；　and　it　wouldn't　do　to　be　remembered。　He　motioned　to　Ryan　and　headed　out　but；　on　second　thought；　made　his　way　to　the　loo。　The　thought　struck　Ryan　as　very　practical；　too。
　　　Outside；　Ryan　asked　what　came　next。
　　　〃We　take　a　stroll　up　the　street；　Sir　John；〃　Hudson　answered；　using　the　knightly　title　as　an　unfair　barb。　〃Thirty…minute　stroll　to　the　hotel；　I　think；　will　be　about　right。〃　The　exercise　would　also　give　them　a　chance　to　make　sure　they　weren't　being　followed。　If　the　opposition　were　onto　their　operation；　they'd　be　unable　to　resist　the　temptation　to　shadow　the　two　intelligence　officers；　and；　on　mainly　empty　city　streets；　it　wouldn't　be　too　difficult　to　〃make〃　them　along　the　way。。。　unless　the　opposition　consisted　of　KGB。　They　were　cleverer　than　the　locals　by　a　sizable　margin。
　　　Zaitzev　and　his　wife　had　the　fortable　glow　of　three　very　stiff　drinks　each。　Oddly；　his　wife　showed　little　sign　of　approaching　sleep；　however。　Too　excited　by　the　night's　fine　entertainment；　Oleg　thought。　Maybe　it　was　for　the　better。　Just　that　one　more　worry　to　go…except　for　how　the　CIA　planned　to　get　them　out　of　Hungary。　What　would　it　be？　A　helicopter　near　the　border；　flying　them　under　Hungarian　radar　coverage？　That　was　what　he　would　have　chosen。　Would　CIA　be　able　to　hop　them　from　inside　Hungary　to　Austria？　Just　how　clever　were　they？　Would　they　let　him　know？　Might　it　be　something　really　clever　and　daring？　And　frightening？　he　wondered。
　　　Would　it　succeed？　If　not。。。　well；　the　consequences　of　failure　did　not　bear　much　contemplation。
　　　But　neither　would　they　go　entirely　away。　Not　for　the　first　time；　Oleg　considered　that　his　own　death　might　result　from　this　adventure；　and　prolonged　misery　for　his　wife　and　child。　The　Soviets　would　not　kill　them；　but　it　would　mark　them　forever　as　pariahs；　doomed　to　a　life　of　misery。　And　so　they　were　hostages　to　his　conscience　as　well。　How　many　Soviets　had　stopped　short　of　defection　just　on　that　basis？　Treason；　he　reminded　himself；　was　the　blackest　of　crimes；　and　the　penalties　for　it　were　equally　forbidding。
　　　Zaitzev　poured　out　the　remainder　of　the　vodka　and　gunned　it　down；　waiting　the　last　half　hour　before　the　CIA　arrived　to　save　his　life。。。
　　　Or　whatever　they　planned　to　do　with　him　and　his　family。　He　kept　checking　his　watch　while　his　wife　finally　dozed　off　and　back；　smiling　and　humming　the　Bach　concert　with　a　head　that　lolled　back　and　forth。　At　least　he'd　given　her　as　fine　a　night　as　he'd　ever　managed　to　do。。。
　　　There　was　a　parking　place　just　by　the　hotel's　side　door。　Small　drove　up　to　it　and　backed　in　neatly。　Parallel　parking　is　an　art　form　in　England　that　he　still　remembered　how　to　perform。　Then　they　sat；　Small　with　a　cigarette　and　Truelove　with　his　favorite　briar　pipe；　looking　out　at　empty　streets；　just　a　few　pedestrians　in　the　distance；　with　Small　keeping　an　eye　on　the　rearview　mirror　for　activity　at　the　KGB　residency。　There　were　some　lights　on　up　on　the　second　floor；　but　nothing　moving　that　he　could　see。　Probably　some　KGB　chap　had　just　forgotten　to　flip　the　switch　on　the　way　out。
　　　There　it　was；　Ryan　saw；　just　three　blocks；　on　the　right…hand　side　of　the　street。
　　　Showtime。
　　　The　remaining　walk　passed　seemingly　in　an　instant。　Tom　Trent；　he　saw；　was　by　the　corner　of　the　building。　People　were　ing　out　of　the　building；　probably　from　the　basement　bar　Hudson　had　shown　him；　about　right　for　closing　time；　just　in　twos　and　threes；　nobody　leaving　alone。　Must　be　a　saloon　for　the　local　singles　crowd；　Jack　thought；　setting　up　one…night　stands　for　the　terminally　lonely。　So；　they　had　them　in　munist　countries　too；　eh？
　　　As　they　approached；　Hudson　flicked　a　finger　across　his　nose。　That　was　the　sign　for　Trent　to　go　inside　and　distract　the　desk　clerk。　How　he　did　that；　Ryan　would　never　know；　but　minutes　later　when　they　walked　in　the　door；　the　lobby　was　totally　empty。
　　　〃e　on。〃　Hudson　hurried　over　to　the　stairs；　which　wrapped　around　the　elevator　shaft。　Getting　to　the　third　floor　took　less　than　a　minute。　And　there　was　Room　307。　Hudson　turned　the　knob。　The　Rabbit　had　not　locked　it。　Hudson　opened　it　slowly。
　　　Zaitzev　saw　the　door　open。　Irina　was　mostly　asleep　now。　He　looked　at　her　to　be　sure；　then　stood。
　　　〃Hello；〃　Hudson　said　in　quiet　greeting。　He　extended　his　hand。
　　　〃Hello；〃　Zaitzev　said；　in　English。　〃You　are　travel　agent？〃
　　　〃Yes；　we　both　are。　This　is　Mr。　Ryan。〃
　　　〃Ryan？〃　Zaitzev　asked。　〃There　is　KGB　operation　by　that　name。〃
　　　〃Reall