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n a mile away。
But by the time they got there； the paramedics in the back knew that it was just a waste of their highly valuable time。 The casualty…receiving area was ready for them。 The driver reversed direction and backed in； the rear doors were wrenched open； and the gurney was wheeled out； with a young doctor observing but not touching anything yet。
〃Smoke inhalation；〃 the fireman…paramedic said； on ing in the swinging doors。 〃Severe carbon monoxide intoxication。〃 The extensive but mainly superficial burns could wait for the moment。
〃How long？〃 the ER doc asked at once。
〃Don't know。 It does not look good； doctor。 CO poisoning； eyes fixed and dilated； fingernails red； no response to CPR or oxygen as yet；〃 the paramedic reported。
The medics all tried。 You don't just kiss off the life of a man in his early thirties； but an hour later it was clear that Owen Williams would not open his blue eyes ever again； and； on the doctor's mand； lifesaving efforts were stopped and a time of death announced； to be typed in on the death certificate。 The police were there； also； of course。 They mostly chatted with the firemen until the cause of death was established。 The blood chemistry was taken…they'd drawn blood immediately to check blood gasses…and after fifteen minutes； the lab reported that the level of carbon monoxide was 39 percent； deep into the lethal range。 He'd been dead before the firemen had rolled off their cots。 And that was that。
It was the police rather than the firemen who took it from there。 A man had died； and it had to be reported up the chain of mand。
That chain ended in London in the steel…and…glass building that was New Scotland Yard； with its revolving triangular sign that made tourists think that the name of the London police force was； in fact； Scotland Yard； when actually that had been a street name years before for the old headquarters building。 There； a Post…it note on a teletype machine announced that Chief Superintendent Nolan of Special Branch wanted to be informed at once of any death by fire or accident； and the teletype operator lifted a phone and called the appropriate number。
That number was to the Special Branch watch officer； who asked a few questions； then called York for further information。 Then it was his job to awaken 〃Tiny〃 Nolan just after four in the morning。
〃Very well；〃 the Chief Superintendent said； after collecting himself。 〃Tell them to do nothing whatsoever with the body…nothing at all。 Make sure they understand； nothing at all。〃
〃Very well； sir；〃 the sergeant in the office confirmed。 〃I will relay that。〃 And seven miles away； Patrick Nolan went back to sleep； or at least tried to； while his mind wondered again what the hell SIS wanted a roasted human body for。 It had to be something interesting； just that it was also quite disgusting to contemplate…enough that it denied him sleep for twenty minutes or so； before he faded back out。
The messages were flying back and forth across the Atlantic and Eastern Europe all that night； and all of them were processed by the signals specialists in the various embassies； the underpaid and overworked clerical people who； virtually alone； were needed to transmit all of the most sensitive information from originators to end…users； and so； virtually alone； were the people who knew it all but did nothing with it。 They were also the ones whom enemies tried so hard to corrupt； and who were； as a result； the most carefully watched of all staffers； whether at headquarters or in the various embassies； though for all the concern； there was usually no pensating solicitude for their fort。 But it was through these so often unappreciated but vital people that the dispatches found their way to the proper desks。
One recipient was Nigel Haydock； and it was to him that the most important of the morning's messages went； because only he； at this moment； knew the scope of BEATRIX； there in his office； where he was covered as mercial Attache to Her Britannic Majesty's Embassy； on the eastern bank of the Moscow River。
Haydock usually took his breakfast at the embassy； since with his wife so gravidly pregnant； he felt it improper for him to have her fix the morning meal for him…and besides； she was sleeping a lot； in preparation for not sleeping at all when the little bugger arrived； Nigel thought。 So there he was at his desk； drinking his morning tea and eating a buttered muffin when he got to the dispatch from London。
〃Bloody hell；〃 he breathed； then paused to think。 It was brilliant； this American play on MINCEMEAT…nasty and grisly； but brilliant。 And it appeared that Sir Basil was going forward with it。 That tricky old bugger。 It was the sort of thing Bas would like。 The current C was a devotee of the old school； one who liked the feel of devious operations。 His over…cleverness might be the downfall of him someday； but； Haydock thought； one has to admire his panache。 So get the Rabbit to Budapest and arrange his escape from there。。。
Andy Hudson preferred coffee in the morning； acpanied by eggs； bacon； fried tomatoes； and toast。 〃Bloody brilliant；〃 he said aloud。 The audacity of this operation appealed to his adventurous nature。 So they'd have to get three individuals…an adult male； an adult female； and a little girl…all out of Hungary covertly。 Not overly difficult； but he'd have to check his rat line； because this was one operation he didn't want to bollix up； especially if he had thoughts of promotion in the future。 The Secret Intelligence Service was singular among British government bureaucracies insofar as； while it rewarded success fairly well； it was singularly unforgiving of failure…there was no union at Century House to protect the worker bees。 But he'd known that going in； and they couldn't take his pension away in any case…once he had the seniority to qualify for one； Hudson cautioned himself。 But while this operation wasn't quite the World Cup； it would be rather like scoring the winning goal for Arsenal against Manchester United at Wembly Stadium。
So his first task of the day was to see after his cross…border connections。 Those were reliable； he thought。 He'd spent a good deal of time setting them up； and he'd checked them out before。 But he'd check them out again； starting today。 He'd also check in with his AVH contact。。。 or would he？ Hudson wondered。 What would that get him？ It could allow him to find out if the Hungarian secret police force was on a state of alert or looking for something； but if that were true； the Rabbit would not be leaving Moscow。 His information had to be highly important for an operation of this plexity to be run by CIA through SIS； and KGB was too careful and conservative an agency to take any sort of chances with information of that importance。 The other side was never predictable in the intelligence business。 There were just too many people with slightly different ideas for everyone to operate in lockstep。 So； no； AVH wouldn't know very much； if anything at all。 KGB trusted no one at all； absent direct oversight； preferably with guns。
So the only smart thing for him to do would be to look in on his escape procedures； and even to do that circumspectly； and otherwise wait for this Ryan chap to arrive from London to look over his shoulder。。。 Ryan； he thought； CIA。 The same one who…no chance of that。 Just a coincidence。 Had to be。 That Ryan was a bootneck…an American bootneck。 Just too much of a coincidence； the COS Budapest decided。
Ryan had remembered his croissants； and this time he'd taken them with him in the cab from Victoria to Century House； along with the coffee。 He arrived to see Simon's coat on the tree； but no Simon。 Probably off with Sir Basil； he decided； and sat down at his desk； looking at the pile of overnights to go through。 The croissants…he'd pigged out and bought three of them； plus butter and grape…jelly packets…were sufficiently flaky that he risked ending up wearing them instead of eating them； and this morning's coffee wasn't half bad。 He made a mental note to write to Starbucks and suggest that they open some outlets in London。 The Brits needed good coffee to get them off their damned tea； and this new Seattle pany might just pull it off； assuming