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。 〃Stop in to see me before you head off。〃
〃Will do； sir。〃 And Basil's head vanished back into the corridor。 〃Simon； how about a pint and a sandwich？〃 Ryan said to his workmate。 〃Fine idea。〃 Harding stood and got his coat。 They walked off to the Duke of Clarence。
Lunch on the train was pleasant： borscht； noodles； black bread； and a proper dessert…strawberries from some farm or other。 The only problem was that Svetlana didn't care for borscht； which was odd for a Russian native； even a child。 She picked at the sour cream topping； then later attacked the noodles with gusto and positively devoured the late…season strawberries。 They'd just climbed through the low Transylvanian mountains on the Bulgarian border。 The train would pass through Sofia； then turn northwest for Belgrade； Yugoslavia； and finally Hungary。
The Zaitzevs lingered over lunch； Svetlana peering out the windows as the train approached Sofia。
Oleg Ivanovich did the same； puffing on his cigarette。 Passing through Sofia； he found himself wondering which building housed the Dirzhavna Sugurnost。 Was Colonel Bubovoy there； working on his plot； probably with that Colonel Strokov？ How far along might they be？ Was the Pope's life in immediate danger？ How would he feel if the Polish priest was murdered before he could get his warning out？ Could he or should he have moved faster？ These damned questions； and no one in whom he could confide them！ You are doing your best； Oleg Ivan'ch； he told himself； and no man can do more than that！
The Sofia station looked like a cathedral； an impressive stone building with an almost religious purpose。 Somehow he wasn't worried now about a KGB arrest team boarding the train。 His only thoughts were to press on； get to Budapest； and see what the CIA did there。。。 and hope they were petent。 KGB could do a job like this with consummate professionalism； almost like stage magicians。 Was CIA also that good？ On Russian TV； they were frequently portrayed as evil but bumbling adversaries…but that wasn't what they said at The Centre。 No； at #2 Dzerzhinskiy Square； they were thought to be evil spirits； always on the prowl； clever as the devil himself； the most deadly of enemies。 So； which was true？ Certainly he'd find out quickly enough…one way or another。 Zaitzev stubbed out his cigarette and led his family back to their partments。
〃Looking forward to the mission； Jack？〃 Harding asked。
〃Yeah； like the dentist。 And don't tell me how easy it'll be。 You've never gone out in the field either。〃
〃Your own people suggested this； you know。〃
〃So； when I get home…if I get home…I'll slug Admiral Greer；〃 Ryan responded； half…but only half…joking。 〃I'm not trained for this； Simon； remember？〃
〃How many people are trained to deal with a direct physical attack？ You've done that；〃 Simon reminded him。
〃Okay； I was a marine lieutenant once； for…what was it？…eleven months or so； before the helicopter crunched on Crete and I got my back broke。 Shit； I don't even like roller…coasters。 My mom and dad loved the goddamned things； they were always taking me up in them at Gwynn Oak Amusement Park when I was a little kid。 Expected me to like the damned things； too。 Dad；〃 Ryan explained； 〃was a paratrooper in the One hundred first Airborne； back forty years ago。 Falling out of the sky didn't worry him too much。〃 That was followed by a snort。 One nice thing about the Marine Corps； they didn't make you jump out of an airplane。 Well； damn； Jack thought suddenly。 Was he more worried about this than the airline flight？ That caused a downward look and an ironic chuckle。 〃Do your field officers carry weapons？〃
That generated a laugh。 〃Only in the movies； Jack。 They're bloody heavy to lug about； and they can be difficult to explain。 There are no double…o people in SIS…at least not to my knowledge。 The French occasionally kill people； and they are actually rather good at it。 So are the Israelis； but people do make mistakes； even trained professionals； and that sort of thing can be difficult to explain to the press。〃
〃You can't invoke a D…notice？〃
〃Theoretically； yes； but they can be difficult to enforce。 Fleet Street has its own rules； you see。〃
〃So does The Washington Post； as Nixon found out。 So I ought not to kill anyone。〃
〃I would try to avoid it；〃 Simon agreed； munching on his turkey sandwich。
Belgrade…Beograd to its natives…also had a fine station。 In the previous century； evidently； architects had worked hard to outdo each other； like the pious ones who'd built cathedrals in the Middle Ages。 The train was several hours late； he saw with surprise。 He couldn't see why。 The train hadn't stopped for any length of time anywhere。 Perhaps it wasn't traveling as fast as it was supposed to。 Leaving Belgrade； it snaked up some modest hills； and none too quickly at that。 He imagined this country would be pretty in winter。 Wasn't there an uping Olympiad hereabouts？ The winter probably came here about the same time it did in Moscow； It was a little late this year； but that usually meant it would be unusually harsh when it arrived。 He wondered what winter would be like in America。。。
〃Ready； Jack？〃 Charleston asked in his office。
〃I suppose。〃 Jack looked at his new passport。 Since it was a diplomatic one； it was a little more ornate than the usual； and bound in red leather； with the Royal Coat of Arms on the front cover。 He paged through it to see the stamps of all the places he had not visited。 Thailand； the People's Republic of China。 Damn； Jack thought； I really do get around。 〃Why this visa？〃 he asked。 The U。K。 didn't require them for anybody。
〃Hungary controls movement in and out rather sternly。 They require an entry and exit visa。 You'll not be needing the latter； I expect；〃 C observed。 〃Hudson will probably be taking you out in a southerly direction。 He has good relations with the local smugglers。〃
〃Walking over any mountains？〃 Ryan asked。
Basil shook his head。 〃No； we don't often do that。 Car or truck； I should think。 Ought not to be any problem at all； my boy。〃 He looked up。 〃It really is quite routine； Jack。〃
〃You say so； sir。〃 It damned sure isn't for me；
Charleston stood。 〃Good luck； Jack。 See you back in a few days。〃
Ryan took his hand。 〃Roger that； Sir Basil。〃 Semper fi； pal。
There was a car waiting on the street。 Jack hopped in the left…front seat； and the driver headed east。 The ride took about fifty minutes with the light afternoon traffic； almost as fast as the train would have been。
On getting to Chatham； Ryan found his daughter napping； Little Jack playing with his feet…fascinating things they were…in the playpen； and Miss Margaret sitting with a magazine in the living room。
〃Dr。 Ryan； I didn't expect…〃
〃That's okay； I have to take a business trip。〃 He walked to the wall phone in the kitchen and tried calling Cathy； only to learn that she was giving her damned lecture on her laser toy。 It was the one she used for welding blood vessels back shut； he thought。 Something like that。 Frowning； he went upstairs for his bag。 He'd try to call her from the airport。 But； just in case； he scribbled a note。
OFF TO BONN。 TRIED TO CALL。 WILL TRY AGAIN。 LOVE； JACK。 This one found its way to the refrigerator door。 Ryan bent down to give Sally a kiss and then reached down to lift his son for a hug； a sloppy one； as it turned out。 The little guy dribbled the way a car engine dripped oil。 That necessitated a paper towel on the way out。
〃Have a good trip； Dr。 Ryan；〃 the nanny called。
〃Thanks； Margaret。 See ya。〃 As soon as the car pulled off； she called Century House to let people know Sir John was on the way to Heathrow。 Then she went back to her magazine； this month's Tattler。
The train came to an unexpected halt in a yard right at the Hungarian frontier； near the town of Zombor。 Zaitzev hadn't known about this； and the surprise was soon pounded。 There were cranes on their side of the train； and no sooner had the train stopped than a crowd of coveralled workmen appeared。
The Hungarian State Railway operated on standard gauge； the tracks 1；435 millimeters…4 feet； 814 inches…apart； which was the world's standard； and which incongruously dated back to the two…horse chariots