tc.redrabbit-第2部分

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　back　and　forth　to　Langley　at　least　once　a　month…not　the　greatest　thing　for　a　reluctant　flyer。
　　　〃The　moving　going　okay？　You　can　trust　this　bunch；　you　know。　Bas　has　used　them　for　twenty…plus　years；　my　friends　at　the　Yard　like　them；　too。　Half　of　these　guys　are　ex…cops。〃　And　cops；　he　didn't　have　to　say；　were　more　reliable　than　spooks。
　　　〃No　bugs　in　the　bathroom？　Great；〃　Ryan　observed。　During　his　very　short　experience　of　it　so　far；　Ryan　had　learned　that　life　in　the　intelligence　service　was　a　little　different　from　teaching　history　at　the　Naval　Academy。　There　probably　were　bugs…but　wired　to　Basil's　office。。。
　　　〃I　know。　Me；　too。　Good　news；　though：　You'll　be　seeing　a　lot　of　me…if　you　don't　mind。〃
　　　Ryan　nodded　tiredly；　trying　to　manage　a　grin。　〃Well；　at　least　I'll　have　somebody　to　have　a　beer　with。〃
　　　〃That's　the　national　sport。　More　business　gets　done　in　pubs　than　at　the　office。　Their　version　of　the　country　club。〃
　　　〃The　beer's　not　too　bad。〃
　　　〃Better　than　the　piss　we　have　at　home。　I'm　fully　converted　on　that　score。〃
　　　〃They　told　me　at　Langley　that　you　do　a　lot　of　Intel　work　for　Emil　Jacobs。〃
　　　〃Some。〃　Murray　nodded。　〃Fact　of　the　matter　is；　we're　better　at　it　than　a　lot　of　you　Agency　types。　The　Operations　people　haven't　recovered　from　seventy…seven　yet；　and　I'm　not　sure　that'll　happen　for　a　while。〃
　　　Ryan　had　to　agree。　〃Admiral　Greer　thinks　so；　too。　Bob　Ritter　is　pretty　smart…maybe　a　little　too　smart；　if　you　know　what　I　mean…but　he　doesn't　have　enough　friends　in　Congress　to　get　his　empire　expanded　the　way　that　he　wants。〃
　　　Greer　was　the　CIA's　chief　analyst；　Ritter　the　Ops　director。　The　two　were　often　at　odds。
　　　〃They　don't　trust　Ritter　like　they　do　the　DDL　Carryover　from　the　Church　mittee　mess　ten　years　ago。　You　know；　the　Senate　never　seems　to　remember　who　ran　those　operations。　They　canonize　the　boss　and　crucify　the　troops　who　tried　to　follow　his　orders…though　badly。　Damn；　was　that　a…〃　Murray　searched　for　the　word。　〃The　Germans　call　it　a　schweinerei。　No　translation；　exactly；　but；　you　know；　it　just　sounds　like　what　it　is。〃
　　　Jack　grunted　with　amusement。　〃Yeah；　better　than　fuckup。〃
　　　The　CIA's　effort　to　assassinate　Fidel　Castro；　which　had　been　run　out　of　the　office　of　the　Attorney　General　during　the　time　of　Camelot；　had　been　right　out　of　Woody　Woodpecker；　with　a　sprinkling　of　the　Three　Stooges：　politicians　trying　to　imitate　James　Bond；　a　character　made　up　by　a　failed　Brit　spook。　The　movies　just　weren't　the　real　world；　as　Ryan　had　learned　the　hard　way；　first　in　London；　and　then　in　his　own　living　room。
　　　〃So；　Dan；　how　good　are　they　really？〃
　　　〃The　Brits？〃　Murray　led　Ryan　out　onto　the　front　lawn。　The　removers　were　vetted　by　SIS…but　Murray　was　FBI。　〃Basil　is　world…class。　That's　why　he's　lasted　so　long。　He　was　a　brilliant　field　spook；　and　he　was　the　first　guy　to　get　a　bad　vibe　about　Philby…and　remember；　Basil　was　just　a　rookie。　He's　good　at　administration；　one　of　the　most　agile　thinkers　I've　ever　e　across。　The　local　politicians　on　both　sides　of　the　aisle　like　him　and　trust　him。　That　isn't　easy。　Kinda　like　Hoover　was　for　us　once；　but　without　the　cult…of…personality　thing。　I　like　him。　Good　dude　to　work　with。　And　Basil　likes　you　a　lot；　Jack。〃
　　　〃Why？〃　Ryan　asked。　〃I　haven't　done　much　of　anything。〃
　　　〃Bas　has　an　eye　for　talent。　He　thinks　you　have　the　right　stuff。　He　flat　loved　that　thing　you　dreamed　up　last　year　to　catch　security　leaks…the　Canary　Trap…and　rescuing　their　next　king　didn't　exactly　hurt；　y'know？　You're　going　to　be　a　popular　boy　down　at　Century　House。　If　you　live　up　to　your　billing；　you　might　just　have　a　future　in　the　spook　business。〃
　　　〃Great。〃　Ryan　still　wasn't　entirely　sure　that　was　what　he　wanted　to　do；　though。　〃Dan；　I'm　a　stockbroker　who　turned　into　a　history　teacher；　remember？〃
　　　〃Jack；　that's　behind　you　now。　Look　forward；　will　ya？　You　were　pretty　good　picking　stocks　at　Merrill　Lynch；　right？〃
　　　〃I　made　a　few　bucks；〃　Ryan　admitted。　Actually；　it　was　a　lot　of　bucks；　and　his　portfolio　was　still　growing。　People　were　getting　fat　on　The　Street　back　home。
　　　〃So；　apply　your　brains　to　something　really　important；〃　Dan　suggested。　〃I　hate　to　tell　you；　Jack；　but　there　aren't　that　many　smart　people　in　the　intelligence　munity。　I　know。　I　work　there。　A　lot　of　drones；　a　lot　of　moderately　smart　people；　but　damned　few　stars；　pal。　You　have　the　stuff　to　be　a　star。　Jim　Greer　thinks　so。　So　does　Basil。　You　think　outside　the　box。　I　do；　too。　That's　why　I'm　not　chasing　bank　robbers　in　Riverside；　Philadelphia；　anymore。　But　I　never　made　any　million　bucks　playing　the　market。〃
　　　〃Getting　lucky　doesn't　make　you　a　great　guy；　Dan。　Hell；　Cathy's　dad；　Joe；　has　made　a　lot　more　'n　I　ever　will；　and　he's　an　opinionated；　overbearing　son　of　a　bitch。〃
　　　〃Well；　you　made　his　daughter　the　wife　of　an　honorary　knight；　didn't　you？〃
　　　Jack　smiled　sheepishly。　〃Yeah；　I　suppose　I　did。〃
　　　〃That'll　open　a　lot　of　doors　over　here；　Jack。　The　Brits　do　like　their　titles。〃　He　paused。　〃Now…how　about　I　drag　you　guys　out　for　a　pint？　There's　a　nice　pub　up　the　hill；　The　Gypsy　Moth。　This　moving　stuff'll　drive　you　crazy。　It's　almost　as　bad　as　building　a　house。〃
　　　His　office　was　in　the　first　basement　level　of　The　Centre；　a　security　measure　that　had　never　been　explained　to　him；　but　it　turned　out　there　was　an　exact　counterpart　room　in　the　headquarters　of　the　Main　Enemy。　There；　it　was　called　MERCURY；　messenger　of　the　gods…very　apt；　if　his　nation　acknowledged　the　concept　of　a　god。　The　messages　passed　through　the　code　and　cipher　clerks；　came　to　his　desk；　and　he　examined　them　for　content　and　code　words；　before　routing　them　to　the　proper　offices　and　officers　for　action；　then；　when　the　messages　came　back　down；　he　routed　things　the　other　way。　The　traffic　broke　into　a　regular　routine；　mornings　were　usually　inbound　traffic　and　afternoons　usually　outbound。　The　tedious　part　was　the　encrypting；　of　course；　since　so　many　of　the　people　out　in　the　field　used　one…time　pads　unique　to　themselves…the　single　copies　of　those　pads　were　located　in　the　set　of　rooms　to　his　right。　The　clerks　in　there　transmitted　and　kept　secrets　ranging　from　the　sex　lives　of　Italian　parliamentarians　to　the　precise　targeting　hierarchy　of　American　nuclear…strike　plans。
　　　Strangely；　none　of　them　talked　about　what　they　did　or　what　they　encrypted；　inbound　or　outbound。　The　clerks　were　pretty　mindless。　Perhaps　they　were　recruited　with　those　psychological　factors　in　mind…it　would　not　have　surprised　him。　This　was　an　agency　designed　by　geniuses　for　operation　by　robots。　If　someone　could　actually　build　such　robots；　he　was　sure　they'd　have　them　here；　because　you　could　trust　machines　not　to　diverge　too　greatly　from　their　intended　path。
　　　Machines　couldn't　think；　however；　and　for　his　own　job；　thinking　and　remembering　were　useful　things；　if　the　agency　was　to　function…and　function　it　must。　It　was　the　shield　and　the　sword　of　a　state　which　needed　both。　And　he　was　the　postmaster　of　sorts；　he　had　to　remember　what　went　where。　He　didn't　know　everything　that　went　on　here；　but　he　knew　a　lot　more　than　most　people　in　this　building：　operation　names　and　locations；　and；　often　enough；　operational　missions　and　taskings。　He　generally　did　not　know　the　proper　names　and　faces　of　field　officers；　but　he　knew　their　targets；　knew　the　code　names　of　their　recruited　agents；　and；　for　the　most　part；　knew　what　those　agents　were　providing。
　　　He'd　been　here；　in　this　department；　for　nine　and　a　half　years。　He'd　started　in　1973；　just　after　graduating　from　Moscow　State　University　with　a　degree　in　mathematics；　and　his　highly　disciplined　mind　had　gotten　him　spotted　early　on　by　a　KGB　talent　scout。　He　played　a　particularly　fine　game　of　chess；　and　that；　he　supposed；　was　where　his　trained　memory　came　from；　all　that　study　of　the　games　of　the　old　grandmasters；　so　that　in　a　given　situation　he'd　know　the　next　move。　He'd　actually　thought　of　making　chess　his　career；　but　though　he'd　studied　hard；　it　wasn't　quite　hard　enough；　it　seemed。　Boris　Spassky；　just　a　young　player　himself　then；　had　annihilated　him　six　games　to　none；　with　two　desperate　draws；　and　so　ended　his　hopes　of　fame　and　fortune。。。　and　travel。　He　sighed　at　his　desk。　Travel。　He'd　studied　his　geography　books；　too；　and　in　closing　his　eyes　could　see　the　images…mainly　black…and…white：　Venice's　Grand　Canal；　London's　Regent　Street；　Rio　de　Janeiro's　magnificent　Copacabana　beach；　the　face　of　Mt。　Everest；　which　Hillary　had　climbed　when　he　himself　had　just　been　learning　to　walk。。。　all　those　places　he　would　never　get　to　see。　Not　him。　Not　a　person　with　his　access　and　his　security　clearances。　No；　KGB　was　very　careful　with　such　people。　It　trusted　no　one；　a　lesson　that　had　been　learned　the　hard　way。　What　was　it　about　his　country　that　so　many　tried　to　escape　from　it？　And　yet　so　many　millions　had　died　fighting　for　the　rodina。。。　He'd　been　spared　military　service　because　of　his　mathematics　and　his　chess　potential；　and　then；　he　supposed；　because　of　his　recruitment　to　#2　Dzerzhinskiy　Square。　Along　with　it　came　a　nice　flat；　fully　seventy…five　square　meters；　in　a　recently　finished　building。　Military　rank；　too…he'd　bee　a　senior　captain　within　weeks　of　his　majority；　which；　on　the　whole；　wasn't　too　bad。　Even　better；　he'd　just　started　getting　paid　now　in　certificate　rubles；　and　so　was　able　to　shop　in　the　〃closed〃　stores　for