tc.redrabbit-第70部分

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　　　〃What　do　you　think　of　our　cousins？〃
　　　〃Basil　is　pretty　smart；〃　Ryan　observed。　〃But　he's　careful　about　what　he　shows　me。　That's　fair；　I　suppose。　He　knows　that　I'm　reporting　back　to　Langley；　and　I　really　don't　need　to　know　much　about　sources。。。　But　I　can　make　some　guesses。　'Six'　has　gotta　have　some　good　people　in　Moscow。〃　Ryan　paused。　〃Damned　if　I'd　ever　play　that　game。　Our　prisons　are　pretty　nasty。　I　don't　even　want　to　think　about　what　the　Russian　ones　are　like。〃
　　　〃You　wouldn't　live　long　enough　to　find　out；　Jack。　They're　not　the　most　forgiving　people　in　the　world；　especially　on　espionage。　You're　a　lot　safer　whacking　a　cop　right　in　front　of　the　precinct　station　than　playing　spy。〃
　　　〃And　with　us？〃
　　　〃It's　amazing…how　patriotic　convicts　are；　that　is。　Spies　do　very　hard　time　in　the　Federal　prisons。　Them　and　child　molesters。　They　get　a　lot　of　attention　from　Bubba　and　his　armed…robber　friends…you　know；　honest　crooks。〃
　　　〃Yeah；　my　dad　talked　about　that　once　in　a　while；　how　there's　a　hierarchy　in　prison；　and　you　don't　want　to　be　on　the　bottom。〃
　　　〃Better　to　be　a　pitcher　than　a　catcher。〃　Murray　laughed。
　　　It　was　time　for　a　real　question：　〃So；　Dan；　just　how　tight　are　you　with　the　spook　shops？〃
　　　Murray　surveyed　the　horizon。　〃Oh；　we　get　along　pretty　nicely〃　was　all　he　was　willing　to　say。
　　　〃You　know；　Dan；〃　Jack　observed；　〃if　there's　anything　I've　learned　to　worry　about　over　here；　it's　understatement。〃
　　　Murray　liked　that　one。　〃Well；　then　you're　living　in　the　wrong　place；　son。　They　all　talk　like　that　over　here。〃
　　　〃Yeah；　especially　in　the　spook　shops。〃
　　　〃Well；　if　we　talked　like　everybody　else；　then　the　mystique　would　be　gone；　and　people　would　understand　how　screwed　up　everything　really　is。〃　Murray　had　a　sip　and　grinned　broadly。　〃We　couldn't　maintain　the　confidence　of　the　people　that　way。　I　bet　it's　the　same　with　doctors　and　stockbrokers；〃　the　FBI　rep　suggested。
　　　〃Every　business　has　its　own　insiders　language。〃　The　supposed　reason　was　that　it　offered　more　speedy　and　efficient　munications　to　those　inside　the　fold…but　the　truth　of　the　matter；　of　course；　was　that　it　denied　knowledge　and/or　access　to　outsiders。　But　that　was　really　okay　if　you　were　one　of　the　people　on　the　inside。
　　　The　bad　news　happened　in　Budapest；　and　it　resulted　from　pure　bad　luck。　The　agent　wasn't　even　all　that　important。　He　provided　information　on　the　Hungarian　Air　Force；　but　that　was　an　organization　that　no　one　took　very　seriously　at　best；　along　with　the　rest　of　the　Hungarian　military；　which　had　rarely　distinguished　itself　on　the　field　of　battle。　Marxism…Leninism　had　never　really　taken　firm　root　here　anyway；　but　the　state　did　have　a　hardworking；　if　not　especially　petent；　intelligence/counterintelligence　service；　and　not　all　of　them　were　stupid。　Some　of　them　were　even　KGB…trained；　and　if　there　was　anything　the　Soviets　knew；　it　was　intelligence　and　counterintelligence。　This　officer；　Andreas　Morrisay；　was　just　sitting；　drinking　his　morning　coffee　in　a　shop　on　Andrassy　Utca；　when　he　saw　someone　make　a　mistake。　He　would　not　have　caught　it　had　he　not　been　bored　with　his　newspaper；　but　there　it　was。　A　Hungarian　national…you　could　tell　from　his　clothing…dropped　something。　It　was　about　the　size　of　a　tin　of　pipe　tobacco。　He　quickly　bent　down　to　pick　it　up；　and　then；　remarkably　enough；　he　stuck　it　to　the　underside　of　his　table。　And；　Andreas　saw；　it　didn't　fall　off。　It　must　have　some　sort　of　adhesive　on　the　side。　And　that　sort　of　thing　was　not　only　unusual；　but　also　one　of　the　things　he'd　been　shown　in　a　training　film　at　the　KGB　Academy　outside　Moscow。　It　was　a　very　simple　and　obsolete　form　of　dead…drop；　something　used　by　enemy　spies　to　transfer　information。　It　was；　Andreas　thought；　like　walking　unexpectedly　into　the　cinema　and　watching　a　spy　film　and　knowing　what　was　happening　just　on　pure　instinct。　His　immediate　reaction　was　to　walk　off　to　the　men's　room；　where　there　was　a　pay　phone。　There　he　dialed　his　office　and　spoke　for　less　than　thirty　seconds。　Next　he　made　use　of　the　men's　room；　because　this　might　take　a　while；　and　he　was　suddenly　excited。　No　harm　was　done。　The　head　office　of　his　agency　was　only　a　half…dozen　blocks　away；　and　two　of　his　coworkers　came　in；　took　their　seats；　and　ordered　their　coffee；　talking　with　apparent　animation　about　something　or　other。　Andreas　was　relatively　new　in　his　job…just　two　years…and　he'd　yet　to　catch　anyone　doing　anything。　But　this　was　his　day；　the　officer　knew。　He　was　looking　at　a　spy。　A　Hungarian　national　who　was　working　for　some　foreign　power；　and　even　if　he　were　giving　information　to　the　Soviet　KGB；　he　was　mitting　a　crime　for　which　he　could　be　arrested…though　in　that　case；　it　would　be　cleared　up　quickly　by　the　KGB　liaison　officer。　After　another　ten　minutes；　the　Hungarian　rose　and　walked　out；　with　one　of　the　two　other　officers　in　trail。
　　　What　followed　was；　well；　nothing；　for　more　than　an　hour。　Andreas　ordered　some　strudel…every　bit　as　tasty　here　as　it　was　in　Vienna；　three　hundred　kilometers　away；　and　this　despite　the　Marxist　government　in　the　country；　because　the　Hungarians　loved　their　food；　and　Hungary　was　a　productive　agricultural　country；　despite　the　mand　economy　imposed　on　the　farmers　to　the　east。　Andreas　lit　up　a　string　of　cigarettes；　read　his　newspaper；　and　just　waited　for　something　to　happen。
　　　Presently；　it　did。　A　man　dressed　a　little　too　well　to　be　a　Hungarian　citizen　took　his　seat　at　the　table　next　to　his；　lit　a　cigarette　of　his　own；　and　read　his　newspaper。
　　　Here　it　worked　for　Andreas　that　he　was　badly　nearsighted。　His　glasses　were　so　thick　that　it　took　a　few　seconds　for　anyone　to　see　where　his　eyes　were　pointed；　and　he　remembered　his　training　enough　not　to　allow　his　eyes　to　linger　on　any　one　spot　more　than　a　few　brief　seconds。　Mainly　he　appeared　to　be　reading　his　paper；　like　half　a　dozen　others　in　this　elegant　little　shop；　which　had　somehow　survived　the　Second　World　War。　He　watched　the　American…Andreas　had　it　fixed　in　his　mind　that　this　one　had　to　be　an　American…sip　his　own　coffee　and　read　his　own　paper；　until　he　set　his　coffee　cup　down　in　the　saucer；　then　reached　into　his　hip　pocket　for　a　handkerchief；　which　he　used　to　wipe　his　nose；　and　then　replaced　in　the　pocket。。。
　　　But　first　he　retrieved　the　tobacco　tin　from　under　the　table。　It　was　a　move　so　skillfully　done　that　only　a　trained　counterintelligence　officer　could　have　spotted　it；　but；　Andreas　told　himself；　that　was　exactly　what　he　was。　And　it　was　his　pride　that　generated　his　first　and　most　costly　mistake　of　the　day。
　　　The　American　finished　his　coffee　and　took　his　leave；　with　Andreas　in　close　pursuit。　The　foreigner　walked　toward　the　underground　station　a　block　away　and　nearly　made　it。　But　not　quite。　He　turned　in　surprise　when　he　felt　a　hand　on　his　upper　arm。
　　　〃Could　I　see　the　tobacco　tin　that　you　took　from　the　table？〃　Andreas　said；　politely；　because　this　foreigner　was　probably；　technically　speaking；　a　diplomat。
　　　〃Excuse　me？〃　the　foreigner　said；　and　his　accent　made　him　either　British　or　American。
　　　〃The　one　in　your　pants　pocket；〃　Andreas　clarified。
　　　〃I　do　not　know　what　you　are　talking　about；　and　I　have　business　to　do。〃　The　man　started　to　walk　away。
　　　He　didn't　get　far。　Andreas　pulled　out　his　pistol。　It　was　a　Czech　Agrozet　Model　50　and　it　effectively　ended　the　conversation。　But　not　quite。
　　　〃What　is　this？　Who　are　you？〃
　　　〃Papers。〃　Andreas　held　out　his　hand；　keeping　his　pistol　in　close。　〃We　already　have　your　contact。　You　are；〃　he　added；　〃under　arrest。〃
　　　In　the　movies；　the　American　would　have　drawn　his　own　side　arm　and　tried　to　make　his　escape　down　the　twenty…eight　steps　into　the　ancient　metro。　But　the　American's　fear　was　that　this　guy　had　seen　too　many　movies　himself；　and　it　might　make　him　nervous　enough　to　pull　the　trigger　on　his　Czech　piece…of…shit　handgun。　So　he　reached　into　his　coat　pocket；　very　slowly　and　deliberately；　lest　he　scare　the　idiot；　and　withdrew　his　passport。　It　was　a　black　one；　the　sort　issued　to　diplomats；　and　instantly　recognizable　to　lucky　asses　like　this　stupid；　fucking　Hunky。　The　American's　name　was　James　Szell；　and　he　was　by　ancestry　Hungarian；　one　of　the　many　minorities　weled　to　the　America　of　the　previous　century。
　　　〃I　am　an　American　diplomat；　properly　accredited　to　your　government。　You　will　take　me　to　my　embassy　immediately。〃　Inwardly；　Szell　was　seething。　His　face　didn't　show　it；　of　course；　but　his　five　years　in　the　field　had　just　e　to　a　screeching　halt。　All　this　over　a　rookie　second…rate　agent　furnishing　second…rate　information　about　a　third…rate　munist　air　force。　Goddamn　it！
　　　〃First　you　will　e　with　me；〃　Andreas　told　him。　He　motioned　with　his　pistol。　〃This　way。〃
　　　The　PAN　AM　747　landed　at　Kennedy　half　an　hour　early　due　to　favorable　winds。　Cox　put　his　books　back　in　his　carry…on　and　stood；　managing　to　be　the　first　passenger　off；　with　a　little　help　from　the　stewardess。　From　there；　it　was　a　quick　walk　through　customs…his　canvas　bag　told　everyone　who　and　what　he　was…and　from　there　to　the　next　shuttle　to　Washington　National。　A　total　of　ninety　minutes　later；　he　was　in　the　back　of　a　cab　to　the　State　Department　at　Foggy　Bottom。　Inside　that　capacious　building；　he　opened　the　Diplomatic　Bag　and　parceled　out　the　various　contents。　The　envelope　from　Foley　was　handed　to　a　courier；　who　drove　up　the　George　Washington