tc.redrabbit-第25部分

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ne…time…pad　cipher。
　　　The　typist　looked　up　after　just　a　few　seconds：　〃Transmission　plete；　rade。〃　Zaitzev　nodded　and　walked　back　to　the　supervisor's　desk。
　　　〃If　anything　es　in　with　this　operation…reference　number；　bring　it　to　me　immediately。〃
　　　〃Yes；　rade　Captain；〃　the　supervisor　acknowledged；　making　a　notation　on　his　set　of　〃hot〃　numbers。
　　　With　that　done；　Zaitzev　headed　back　for　his　desk；　where　the　work　pile　was　already　quite　high　enough；　and　only　marginally　less　mind…numbing　than　that　of　the　robots　in　the　next　room。　Perhaps　that　was　why　something　started　whispering　at　the　back　of　his　head：　physically　close　to　the　Pope。。。　why？
　　　The　alarm　went　off　at　a　quarter　of　six。　That　was　an　uncivilized　hour。　At　home；　Ryan　told　himself；　it　was　quarter　of　one；　but　that　thought　did　not　bear　reflection。　He　flipped　the　covers　clear　off　the　bed　and　rose；　staggering　to　the　bathroom。　There　was　still　a　lot　to　get　used　to　here。　The　toilets　flushed　pretty　much　the　same；　but　the　sink。。。　Why　the　hell；　Ryan　wondered；　did　you　need　two　spouts　to　put　water　in　the　sink；　one　for　hot　and　one　for　cold？　At　home　you　just　held　your　hand　under　the　damned　spout；　but　here　the　water　had　to　mix　up　in　the　sink　first；　and　that　slowed　you　down。　The　first　morning　look　in　the　mirror　was　difficult。　Do　I　really　look　like　that？　he　always　wondered　on　the　way　back　into　the　bedroom　to　pat　his　wife　on　the　rump。
　　　〃It's　time；　honey。〃
　　　An　oddly　feminine　grumble。　〃Yeah。　I　know。〃
　　　〃Want　me　to　get　Little　Jack？〃
　　　〃Let　him　sleep；〃　Cathy　advised。　The　little　guy　hadn't　felt　like　sleeping　the　previous　evening。　So　now；　of　course；　he　wouldn't　feel　like　waking　up。
　　　〃'Kay。〃　Jack　headed　to　the　kitchen。　The　coffee　machine　only　needed　its　button　punched；　and　Ryan　was　able　to　handle　that　task。　Just　before　flying　over；　he'd　seen　a　new　American　pany　IPO。　It　sold　premium　coffee；　and　since　Jack　had　always　been　something　of　a　coffee　snob；　he'd　invested　100；000　and　gotten　himself　some　of　their　product…as　fine　a　country　as　England　might　be；　it　was　not　a　place　you　visited　for　the　coffee。　At　least　he　could　get　Maxwell　House　from　the　Air　Force；　and　perhaps　he'd　get　this　new　Starbucks　outfit　to　ship　him　some　of　their　brew。　One　more　mental　note　to　make。　Next　he　wondered　what　Cathy　might　make　for　breakfast。　Surgeon　or　not；　she　regarded　the　kitchen　as　her　domain。　Her　husband　was　allowed　to　make　sandwiches　and　fix　drinks；　but　that　was　about　it。　That　suited　Jack；　for　whom　a　stove　was　terra　incognita。　The　stove　here　was　gas；　like　his　mom　had　used；　but　with　a　different　trademark。　He　stumbled　to　the　front　door；　hoping　to　find　a　newspaper。
　　　It　was　there。　Ryan　had　signed　up　for　the　Times；　to　go　with　the　International　Herald　Tribune　he　picked　up　at　the　train　station　in　London。　Finally；　he　switched　on　the　TV。　Remarkably；　there　was　a　start…up　version　of　cable　TV　in　this　subdivision；　and；　mirabile　dictu；　it　had　the　new　American　CNN　news　service…just　in　time　for　baseball　scores。　So　England　was　civilized　after　all。　The　Orioles　had　knocked　off　Cleveland　the　previous　night；　5…4；　in　eleven　innings。　The　ballplayers　were　doubtless　in　bed　right　now；　sleeping　off　the　postgame　beers　they'd　quaffed　at　their　hotel　bar。　What　a　pleasant　thought　that　was。　They　had　a　good　eight　hours　of　sack　time　ahead　of　them。　At　the　turn　of　the　hour；　the　CNN　night　crew　in　Atlanta　summarized　the　previous　day's　events。　Nothing　overly　remarkable。　The　economy　was　still　a　little　fluky。　The　Dow　Jones　had　snapped　back　nicely；　but　the　unemployment　rate　always　lagged　behind；　and　so　did　working…class　voters。　Well；　that　was　democracy　for　you。　Ryan　had　to　remind　himself　that　his　view　of　the　economy　was　probably　different　from　that　of　the　guys　who　made　the　steel　and　assembled　the　Chevys。　His　dad　had　been　a　union　member；　albeit　a　police　lieutenant　and　part　of　management　rather　than　labor；　and　his　dad　had　voted　Democrat　most　of　the　time。　Ryan　hadn't　registered　in　either　party；　opting　instead　to　be　an　independent。　It　limited　the　junk　mail　you　got；　and　who　cared　about　primaries；　anyway？
　　　〃Morning；　Jack；〃　Cathy　said；　entering　the　kitchen　in　her　pink　housecoat。
　　　It　was　shabby；　which　was　surprising；　since　his　wife　was　always　a　fastidious　dresser。　He　hadn't　asked；　but　supposed　it　had　sentimental　significance。
　　　〃Hey；　babe。〃　Jack　rose　to　give　his　wife　the　first　kiss　of　the　day；　acpanied　by　a　rather　limp　hug。　〃Paper？〃
　　　〃No。　I'll　save　it　for　the　train。〃　She　pulled　open　the　refrigerator　door　and　pulled　some　things　out。　Jack　didn't　look。
　　　〃Having　coffee　this　morning？〃
　　　〃Sure。　I　don't　have　any　procedures　scheduled。〃　If　she　had　a　surgery　scheduled；　Cathy　kept　off　the　coffee；　lest　the　caffeine　give　her　hands　a　minor　tremor。　You　couldn't　have　that　when　you　were　screwing　an　eyeball　back　together。　No；　today　was　get…acquainted　day　with　Professor　Byrd。　Bernie　Kate　knew　him　and　called　him　a　friend；　which　boded　well；　and　besides；　Cathy　was　about　as　good　as　eye　surgeons　got；　and　there　was　no　reason　for　her　to　be　the　least　bit　concerned　about　a　new　hospital　and　a　new　boss。　Still；　such　concerns　were　human；　though　Cathy　was　too　macho　to　let　it　show。　〃How　does　bacon　and　eggs　grab　you？〃　she　asked。
　　　〃I'm　allowed　to　have　some　cholesterol？〃　her　husband　asked　in　surprise。
　　　〃Once　a　week；〃　Mrs。　Dr。　Ryan　replied；　imperiously。　Tomorrow　she'd　serve　him　oatmeal。
　　　〃Sounds　good　to　me；　babe；〃　Ryan　said；　with　some　pleasure。
　　　〃I　know　you'll　get　something　bad　for　you　at　the　office　anyway。〃
　　　〃Mm？〃
　　　〃Yeah；　croissant　and　butter；　probably。　They're　made　entirely　out　of　butter　anyway；　you　know。〃
　　　〃Bread　without　butter　is　like　a　shower　without　soap。〃
　　　〃Tell　me　that　when　you　get　your　first　heart　attack。〃
　　　〃My　last　physical；　my　cholesterol　was。。。　what？〃
　　　〃One　fifty…two；〃　Cathy　answered；　with　an　annoyed　yawn。
　　　〃And　that's　pretty　good？〃　her　husband　persisted。
　　　〃It's　acceptable；〃　she　admitted。　But　hers　had　been　one　forty…six。
　　　〃Thank　you；　honey；〃　Ryan　acknowledged；　turning　to　the　op…ed　page　of　the　Times。　The　letters　to　the　editor　here　were　a　positive　hoot；　and　the　quality　of　the　writing　throughout　the　papers　was　superior　to　anything　he　found　in　the　American　print　media。　Well；　they　had　invented　the　language　over　here；　Ryan　figured；　and　fair　was　fair。　The　turn　of　phrase　here　was　often　as　elegant　as　poetry；　and　occasionally　too　subtle　for　his　American　eye　to　appreciate。　He'd　pick　it　up；　he　figured。
　　　The　familiar　sound　and　pleasant　smell　of　frying　bacon　soon　permeated　the　room。　The　coffee…tempered　with　milk　instead　of　cream…was　agreeable；　and　the　news　wasn't　of　the　sort　to　ruin　breakfast。　Except　for　the　ungodly　rime；　things　were　not　all　that　bad；　and　besides；　the　worst　part　of　waking　up　was　already　behind　him。
　　　〃Cathy？〃
　　　〃Yeah；　Jack？〃
　　　〃Have　I　told　you　yet　that　I　love　you？〃
　　　She　ostentatiously　checked　her　watch。　〃You're　a　little　late；　but　I'll　write　that　off　to　the　early　hour。〃
　　　〃What's　your　day　look　like；　honey？〃
　　　〃Oh；　meet　the　people；　look　around　at　how　things　are　laid　out。　Meet　my　nurses　especially。　I　hope　I　get　good　ones。〃
　　　〃Is　that　important？〃
　　　〃Nothing　screws　surgery　up　worse　that　a　clumsy　scrub　nurse。　But　the　people　at　Hammersmith　are　supposed　to　be　pretty　good；　and　Bernie　says　that　Professor　Byrd　is　about　the　best　guy　they　have　over　here。　He　teaches　at　Hammersmith　and　Moorefields。　He　and　Bernie　go　back　about　twenty　years。　He's　been　to　Hopkins　a　lot；　but　somehow　I've　never　bumped　into　him。　Over　easy？〃　she　asked。
　　　〃Please。〃
　　　Then　came　the　sound　of　cracking　eggs。　Like　Jack；　Cathy　believed　in　a　proper　cast…iron　skillet。　Harder　to　clean；　perhaps；　but　the　eggs　tasted　a　lot　better　that　way。　Finally　came　the　sound　of　the　toaster　lever　being　depressed。
　　　The　sports　page…it　was　called　〃sport〃　（singular）　over　here…told　Jack　everything　he'd　ever　need　to　know　about　soccer；　which　wasn't　much。
　　　〃How'd　the　Yankees　do　last　night？〃　Cathy　asked。
　　　〃Who　cares？〃　her　husband　countered。　He'd　grown　up　with　Brooks　Robinson　and　Milt　Pappas　and　the　Orioles。　His　wife　was　a　Yankees　fan。　It　was　hard　on　the　marriage。　Sure；　Mickey　Mantle　had　been　a　good　player…probably　loved　his　mother；　too…but　he'd　played　in　pinstripes；　i　that　was　that。　Ryan　rose　and　fixed　the　coffee　for　his　wife；　handing　it　icr　with　a　kiss。
　　　〃Thanks；　honey。〃　Cathy　handed　Jack　his　breakfast。　The　eggs　looked　a　little　different；　as　though　the　chickens　had　eaten　orange　corn　to　makes　the　yellows　e　out　so　bright。　But　they　tasted　just　fine。　Five　satisfying　minutes　after　that；　Ryan　headed　for　the　shower　to　make　room　for　his　wife。
　　　Ten　minutes　later；　he　was　picking　out　a　shirt…white　cotton；　buttondown…striped　tie；　and　his　Marine　Corps　tie　pin。　At　6：40；　there　was　a　knock　at　the　door。
　　　〃Good　morning。〃　It　was　Margaret　van　der　Beek；　the　nanny/governess。　She　lived　just　a　mile　away　and　drove　herself。　Remended　from　an　agency　vetted　by　the　SIS；　she　was　a　South　Africa　native；　the　daughter　of　a　minister；　thin；　pretty；　and　seemingly　very　nice。　She　carried　a　huge　purse。　Her　hair　was　napalm…red；　which　hinted　at　Irish　ancestry；　but　it　was　apparently　strictly　South　African…Dutch。　Her　accent　was　different　from　those　most　locals；　but　nonetheless　pleasant　to　Jack's　ear。　〃Good　morning；　Miss　Margaret。〃　Ryan　waved　her　into　the　house。　〃The　kids　are　still　asleep；　but　I　expect　them　up　at　an