tc.redrabbit-第46部分

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ow；　and　so　would　his　wife。　If　the　price　of　it　was　the　death　of　some　foreigner　who　was　a　political　inconvenience　to　his　country；　well；　that　was　just　too　bad。　He　should　have　been　more　careful　about　who　he　was　offending。
　　　〃Thank　you　for　ing　and　for　giving　me　your　expertise；　rade　Colonel。　You　will　be　hearing　from　me。〃
　　　Bubovoy　stood。　〃I　serve　the　Soviet　Union；〃　he　said；　and　made　his　way　through　the　hidden　door。
　　　Rozhdestvenskiy　was　in　the　secretaries'　room；　waiting　for　him。
　　　〃How　did　it　go；　Ilya？〃
　　　〃I　am　not　sure　I　am　allowed　to　say〃　was　the　guarded　reply。
　　　〃If　this　is　about　Operation　…666；　then　you　are　allowed；　Ilya　Fedorovich；〃　Rozhdestvenskiy　assured　him；　leading　him　out　the　door　into　the　corridor。
　　　〃Then　the　meeting　went　well；　Aleksey　Nikolay'ch。　More　than　that；　I　can　only　say　with　the　Chairman's　approval。〃　This　might　be　a　security　test；　after　all；　however　much　a　friend　Rozhdestvenskiy　might　be。
　　　〃I　told　him　you　could　be　relied　upon；　Ilya。　This　could　be　good　for　both　of　us。〃
　　　〃We　serve；　Aleksey；　just　like　everybody　else　in　this　building。〃
　　　〃Let　me　get　you　to　your　car。　You　can　make　the　noon　flight　easily。〃　A　few　minutes　later；　he　was　back　in　Andropov's　office。
　　　〃Well？〃　the　Chairman　asked。
　　　〃He　says　the　meeting　went　well；　but　he　will　not　say　another　word　with　out　your　permission。　Ilya　Fedorovich　is　a　serious　professional；　rade　Chairman。　Am　I　to　be　your　contact　for　the　mission？　〃
　　　〃Yes；　you　are；　Aleksey；〃　Andropov　confirmed。　〃I　will　send　a　signal　to　that　effect。〃　Andropov　didn't　feel　the　need　to　run　the　operation　himself。　His　was　a　big…picture　mind；　not　an　operational　one。　〃What　do　you　know　of　this　Colonel　Boris　Strokov？〃
　　　〃Bulgarian？　The　name　is　familiar。　He's　a　senior　intelligence　officer　who　has　in　the　past　specialized　in　assassination　operations。　He　has　ample　experience…and　obviously　Ilya　knows　him　well。〃
　　　〃How　does　one　specialize　in　assassinations？〃　the　Chairman　asked。　It　was　an　aspect　of　the　KGB　he　hadn't　been　briefed　in　on。
　　　〃His　real　work　is　something　else；　obviously；　but　the　DS　has　a　small　group　of　officers　with　experience　in　this　sort　of　thing。　He　is　the　most　experienced。　His　operational　record　is　flawless。　If　memory　serves；　he's　personally　eliminated　seven　or　eight　people　whose　deaths　were　necessary…mostly　Bulgarians；　I　think。　Probably　a　Turk　or　two　as　well；　but　no　Westerners　that　I　know　of。〃
　　　〃Is　it　difficult　to　do？〃　Yuriy　Vladimirovich　asked。
　　　〃I　have　no　such　experience　myself；〃　Rozhdestvenskiy　admitted。　He　didn't　add　that　he　didn't　especially　want　any。　〃Those　who　do　say　that　their　concern　is　not　so　much　in　acplishing　the　mission　as　in　pleting　it…that　is；　avoiding　police　investigation　afterwards。　Modern　police　agencies　are　fairly　effective　at　investigating　murders；　you　see。　In　this　case；　you　can　expect　a　most　vigorous　investigation。〃
　　　〃Bubovoy　wants　this　Strokov　fellow　to　go　on　the　mission　and　then　eliminate　the　assassin　immediately　afterward。〃
　　　Rozhdestvenskiy　nodded　thoughtfully。　〃That　makes　good　sense。　We　have　discussed　that　option　ourselves；　as　I　recall。〃
　　　〃Yes。〃　Andropov　closed　his　eyes　for　a　moment。　Again；　the　image　paraded　itself　before　his　mind。　Certainly　it　would　solve　a　lot　of　political　problems。　〃Yes；　my　next　job　will　be　to　get　the　Politburo's　approval　for　the　mission。〃
　　　〃Quickly；　rade　Chairman？〃　Colonel　Rozhdestvenskiy　asked；　unable　to　contain　his　curiosity。
　　　〃Tomorrow　afternoon；　I　think。〃
　　　Down　in　munications；　Zaitzev　had　allowed　his　daily　routine　to　absorb　his　consciousness。　It　suddenly　struck　him　how　mindless　his　job　was。　They　wanted　this　job　to　be　done　by　machines；　and　he'd　bee　that　machine。　He　had　it　all　mitted　to　memory；　which　operational　designator　went　to　which　case　officer　upstairs　and　what　the　operations　were　all　about。　So　much　information　slid　into　his　mind　along　the　way　that　it　rather　amazed　him。　It　had　happened　so　gradually　that　he'd　never　really　noticed。　He　noticed　now。
　　　But　it　was　15…8…82…666　that　kept　swimming　around　his　mind。。。
　　　〃Zaitzev？〃　a　voice　asked。　The　municator　turned　to　see　Colonel　Rozhdestvenskiy。
　　　〃Yes；　rade　Colonel？〃
　　　〃A　dispatch　for　rezident　Sofia。〃　He　handed　across　the　message　form；　properly　made　out。
　　　〃On　the　machine　or　the　pad；　rade？〃
　　　The　colonel　paused　for　a　moment；　weighing　the　two　options。　He　came　down　on　the　side　of　consistency：　〃The　pad；　I　think。〃
　　　〃As　you　wish；　rade　Colonel。　I　will　have　it　out　in　a　few　minutes。〃
　　　〃Good。　It　will　be　waiting　for　Bubovoy　when　he　gets　back　to　his　desk。〃　He　made　the　ment　without　thinking　about　it。　People　all　over　the　world　talk　too　much；　and　no　amount　of　training　can　entirely　stop　them　from　doing　so。
　　　So；　the　Sofia　rezident　was　just　here？　Zaitzev　didn't　have　to　ask。　〃Yes；　rade　Colonel。　Shall　I　call　you　to　confirm　the　dispatch？〃
　　　〃Yes；　thank　you；　rade　Major。〃
　　　〃I　serve　the　Soviet　Union；〃　Zaitzev　assured　him。
　　　Rozhdestvenskiy　made　his　way　back　upstairs；　while　Zaitzev　went　through　the　normal；　mind…numbing　routine　of　encryption。
　　　MOST　SECRET
　　　IMMEDIATE　AND　URGENT
　　　FROM：　OFFICE　OF　CHAIRMAN；　Moscow　CENTRE
　　　To：　REZIDENT　SOFIA
　　　REFERENCE：　OPERATIONAL　DESIGNATOR　15…8…82…666
FOR　ALL　FUTURE　MUNICATIONS　YOUR　OPERATIONAL　CONTACT　WILL　BE　COLONEL　ROZHDESTVENSKIY。　BY　ORDER　OF　THE　CHAIRMAN。

　　　It　was　just　a　housekeeping　message；　but　coded　〃Immediate　and　Urgent。〃　That　meant　it　was　important　to　Chairman　Andropov；　and　the　reference　made　it　an　operation；　not　just　a　query　to　some　rezident。
　　　They　really　want　to　do　it；　Zaitzev　realized。
　　　What　the　hell　could　he　do　about　it？　No　one　in　this　room…no　one　in　the　entire　building…could　forestall　this　operation。　But　outside　the　building。。。？
　　　Zaitzev　lit　a　cigarette。　He'd　be　taking　the　metro　home　as　usual。　Would　that　American　be　there　as　well？
　　　He　was　contemplating　treason；　he　thought　chillingly。　The　crime　had　a　fearsome　sound　to　it；　with　an　even　more　fearsome　reality。　But　the　other　side　of　that　coin　was　to　sit　here　and　read　over　the　dispatches　while　an　innocent　man　was　killed。。。　and；　no；　he　could　not　do　that。
　　　Zaitzev　took　a　message　blank　off　a　centimeter…thick　pad　of　them　on　his　desk。　He　set　the　single　sheet　of　paper　on　the　desk　surface　and　wrote　in　English；　using　a　#1　soft　pencil：　IF　YOU　FIND　THIS　INTERESTING；　WEAR　A　GREEN　TIE　TOMORROW。　That　was　as　far　as　his　courage　stretched　this　afternoon。　He　folded　the　form　and　tucked　it　inside　his　cigarette　pack；　careful　to　do　everything　with　normal　motions；　because　anything　the　least　bit　unusual　in　this　room　was　noticed。　Next；　he　scribbled　something　on　another　blank　form；　then　crumpled　and　tossed　it　into　the　waste　can；　and　went　back　to　his　usual　work。　For　the　next　three　hours；　Oleg　Ivan'ch　would　rethink　his　action　every　time　he　reached　in　his　pocket　for　a　smoke。　Every　time；　he'd　consider　taking　out　the　folded　sheet　of　paper　and　ripping　it　to　small　bits　before　relegating　it　to　the　waste　can　and　then　the　burn　bag。　But　every　time；　he'd　leave　it　there；　telling　himself　that　he'd　done　nothing　yet。　Above　all；　he　tried　to　set　his　mind　free；　to　do　his　regular　work　and　deliberately　put　himself　on　auto…pilot；　trying　to　let　the　day　go　by。　Finally；　he　told　himself　that　his　fate　was　in　hands　other　than　his　own。　If　he　got　home　without　anything　unusual　happening；　he'd　take　the　folded　form　out　of　his　cigarette　pack　and　burn　it　in　his　kitchen；　and　that　would　be　the　end　of　it。　About　four　in　the　afternoon；　Zaitzev　looked　up　at　the　water…stained　ceiling　of　munications　and　whispered　something　akin　to　a　prayer。
　　　Finally；　the　workday　ended。　He　took　the　usual　route　at　the　usual　pace　to　the　usual　metro　stop；　down　the　escalator；　onto　the　platform。　The　metro　schedule　was　as　predictable　as　the　ing　and　going　of　the　tides；　and　he　boarded　the　carriage　along　with　a　hundred　others。
　　　Then　his　heart　almost　stopped　cold　in　his　chest：　There　was　the　American；　standing　in　exactly　the　same　place；　reading　a　newspaper　in　his　right　hand；　with　his　left　holding　on　to　the　overhead　rail；　his　raincoat　unbuttoned　and　loose　around　his　slender　frame。　The　open　pocket　beckoned　to　him　as　the　Sirens　had　to　Odysseus。　Zaitzev　made　his　way　to　the　center　of　the　railcar；　shuffling　between　other　riders。　His　right　hand　fished　in　his　shirt　pocket　for　the　cigarette　pack。　He　deftly　removed　the　message　blank　from　the　pack　and　palmed　it；　shuffling　about　the　car　as　it　slowed　for　a　station；　making　room　for　another　passenger。　It　worked　perfectly。　He　jostled　into　the　American　and　made　the　transfer；　then　drew　back。
　　　Zaitzev　took　a　deep　breath。　The　deed　was　done。　What　happened　now　was　indeed　in　other　hands。
　　　Was　the　man　really　an　American…or　some　false…flag　from　the　Second　Chief　Directorate？
　　　Had　the　〃American〃　seen　his　face？
　　　Did　that　matter？　Weren't　his　fingerprints　on　the　message　form？　Zaitzev　didn't　have　a　clue。　He'd　been　careful　when　tearing　off　the　form…and；　if　questioned；　he　could　always　say　that　the　pad　just　lay　on　his　desk；　and　anyone　could　have　taken　a　form…even　asked　him　for　it！　It　might　be　enough　even　to　foil　a　KGB　investigation　if　he　stuck　to　his　story。　Soon　enough；　he　was　off　the　subway　car　and　walking　into　the　open　air。　He　hoped　nobody　saw　his　hands　shake　as　he　lit　up　a　smoke。
　　　Foley's　highly　trained　senses　had　failed　him。　With　his　coat　loose　about　him；　he　hadn't　noticed　any　touch；　except　f