按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
One nice thing about Merrill Lynch： You always knew who the hell you were。 Sure； Jack's mind went on； let the whole damned world know you were a flunky of Joe Muller。 Not in this lifetime。 Any opinionated asshole could make money； and his father…in…law was one of them。
〃Finished？〃 Cathy asked from behind him。
〃Just about； babe；〃 Jack answered。
〃It's not dangerous； what you're doing； is it？〃
〃I don't expect it to be； babe。〃 But Jack couldn't lie； and his uncertainty conveyed just enough。
〃Where are you going？〃
〃I told you； remember； Germany。〃 Uh…oh。 She caught me again。
〃Some NATO thing？〃
〃That's what they tell me。〃
〃What do you do in London； Jack？ Century House； that's intelligence stuff； and…〃
〃Cathy； I've told you before。 I'm an analyst。 I go over information from various sources； and I try to figure out what it means； and I write reports for people to read。 You know； it's not all that different from what I did at Merrill Lynch。 My job is to look at information and figure out what it really means。 They think I'm good at it。〃
〃But nothing with guns？〃 Half a question and half an observation。 Jack supposed it was from her work in the Emergency Room at Hopkins。 As a group； doctors didn't much care for firearms； except the ones who liked hunting birds in the fall。 She didn't like the Remington shotgun in his closet； unloaded； and she liked the Browning Hi…Power hidden on the shelf in his closet； loaded； even less。
〃Honey； no； no guns； not at all。 I'm not that kind of spook。〃
〃Okay；〃 she semi…conceded。 She didn't believe him pletely； but she knew he couldn't say what he was doing any more than she could discuss her patients with him。 In that understanding came her frustration。 〃Just so you're not away too long。〃
〃Babe； you know I hate being away from you。 I can't even sleep worth a damn unless you're next to me。〃
〃So take me with you？〃
〃So you can go shopping in Germany？ For what？ Dirndls for Sally？〃
〃Well； she likes the Heidi movies。〃 It was a weak offering。
〃Nice try； babe。 Wish you could； but you can't。〃
〃Oh； damn；〃 Lady Ryan observed。
〃We live in an imperfect world； babe。〃
She especially hated that aphorism of his； and her reply was an un…grammatical grunt。 But； really； there was no reply she could make。
Minutes later； in bed； Jack wondered what the hell he would be doing。 Reason told him that it would be routine in every respect； except for the location。 But except for one little thing； Abe Lincoln had enjoyed that play at Ford's Theater。 He'd be on foreign soil…no； hostile foreign soil。 He was already living in a foreign place； and； friendly as the Brits were； only home was home。 But the Brits liked him。 The Hungarians wouldn't。 They might not take a shot at him； but neither would they give him the key to the city。 And what if they found out he was traveling on a false passport？ What did the Vienna Convention say about that？ But he couldn't wimp out on this one； could he？ He was an ex…Marine。 He was supposed to be fearless。 Yeah； sure。 About the only good thing that had happened at his house a few months back was that he'd made a head call before the bad guys had crashed the party； and so hadn't been able to wet his pants with a gun to his head。 He'd gotten it done； but he damned sure didn't feel heroic。 He'd managed to survive； managed to kill that one guy with the Uzi； but the only thing he felt good about was not killing that bastard Sean Miller。 No； he'd let the State of Maryland handle that one； by the numbers； unless the Supreme Court stepped in again； and that didn't strike him as very likely in this particular case； with a bunch of Secret Service agents dead。 The courts didn't ignore dead cops very often。
But what would happen in Hungary？ He'd just be a watcher； the semiofficial CIA officer overseeing the evacuation of some fool Russian who wanted to move out of his place in Moscow。 Damn； why the hell does this sort of thing always seem to happen to me？ Jack wondered。 It was like hitting the devil's lottery； and his number kept ing up。 Would that ever stop？ He was paid to look into the future and make his predictions； but inside he knew that he couldn't do it worth a damn。 He needed other people to tell him what was happening； so that then he could pare it with things that everyone knew had happened； and then bine the two into a wild…ass guess on what somebody might do。 And； sure； he'd done okay at that in the trading business； but nobody ever got killed over a few shares of mon stock。 And now； maybe； his cute little ass would be on the line。 Great。 Just fucking great。 He stared at the ceiling。 Why were they always white？
Wouldn't black be a better color for sleeping？ You could always see white ceilings； even in a darkened room。 Was there a reason for that？
Was there a reason why he couldn't sleep？ Why was he asking damned…fool questions with no answers？ However this played out； he'd almost certainly be okay。 Basil wouldn't let anything happen to him。 It would look very bad to Langley； and the Brits couldn't afford that…too embarrassing。 Judge Moore wouldn't forget； and it would bee part of CIA's institutional memory； and that would be bad for the next ten years or more。 So； no； SIS wouldn't let anything bad happen to him。
On the other hand； they wouldn't be the only players on the field and； as in baseball； the problem was that both teams played to win； and you needed the right timing to send that 95…mph fastball out to the cheap seats。
But you can't wimp out； Jack； he told himself。 Others； whose opinions he valued； would be ashamed of him…worse； he'd be ashamed of himself。 So； like it or not； he had to suit up and go out on the field and hope he didn't drop the damned ball。
Or just go back to Merrill Lynch； but； no； he'd rather face bayonets than do that。 I really would； Ryan realized； in considerable surprise。 Did that make him brave； or just hardheaded？ There's a question； he thought。 And the only answer had to e from someone else； someone who would only see one side of the equation。 You could only see the physical part； never the thought that went into it。 And that wasn't enough to judge from； much as newsmen and historians tried to shape reality in that way； as though they really understood such things at a distance of miles or years。 Yeah； sure。
In any case； his bags were packed； and with luck the worst part of this trip would be the airplane ride。 Much as he hated it； it was fairly predictable。。。 unless a wing fell off。
〃What the fuck is this all about？〃 John Tyler asked nobody in particular。 The telex in his hand only gave orders； not the reasons behind them。
The bodies had been transported to the city coroner； with a request for no action to be taken with them。 Tyler thought for a moment and then called the Assistant U。S。 Attorney he usually worked with。
〃You want what？ Peter Mayfair asked in some incredulity。 He'd graduated third in his Harvard Law School class three years before and was racing up the career ladder at the U。S。 Attorney's office。 People called him Max。
〃You heard me。〃
〃What is this all about？〃
〃I don't know。 I just know it es straight from Emil's office。 It sounds like stuff from the other side of the river； but the telex doesn't say beans。 How do we do it？〃
〃Where are the bodies？〃
〃Coroner's office； I guess。 There's a note on them…mother and daughter…that says don't post them。 So I suppose they're in the freezer。〃
〃And you want them raw； like？〃
〃Frozen； I suppose； but yeah； raw。〃 What a hell of a way to put it； the Assistant Special Agent in Charge thought。
〃Any families involved？〃
〃The police haven't located any yet that I know of。〃
〃Okay； we hope it stays that way。 If there's no family to say no； we declare them indigent and get the coroner to release them to federal custody； you know； like a dead drunk on the street。 They just put them in a cheap box and bury them in Potter's Field。 Where you going to take them？〃
〃Max； I don't know。 Guess I send a reply telex to Emil and he'll tell me。〃
〃Fast？〃 Mayfair asked； wondering what priority went on this。
〃Last week； Max。〃
〃Okay； if you want； I'll drive down to the coro