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tc.redrabbit-第132章

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   Alan Kingshot was just pulling into the parking area at the Manchester airport; along with two subordinates。 There would be a large back Daimler automobile to take the arriving defectors out to Somerset in the morning。 He hoped they didn't mind driving。 It would be nearly a two…hour drive。
   For the moment; they'd be quartering at a nice country house just a few minutes from the airport。 They'd probably done quite enough traveling for the moment; with still more to e before the end of the week。 But then he started thinking about it。 Might that be too hard on them? The question gave him something to ponder at one of the airport's bars。
   Ryan was pretty well potted。 Maybe alcohol interacted with anxiety; he thought; taking a moment to go to the forward rest room on the airliner; and feeling better when he got back and was strapped in。 He almost never took his seat belt off。 The food served was just sandwiches…English ones; with their unnatural affection for a weed called watercress。 What he really wanted now was a good corned beef; but the Brits didn't even know what corned beef was; thinking it the canned junk that looked like dog food to most Americans。 In fact; the Brits probably fed better stuff to their dogs; as enthralled as they were with their pets。 The lights passing underneath the airliner proved that they were overflying Western Europe。 The Eastern part was never well lit; as he'd learned ing south from Budapest。
   But Zaitzev wasn't sure。 What if this was a very elaborate ruse to get him to spill the beans? What if the Second Chief Directorate had staged a huge maskirovka village for his brief benefit?
   〃Ryan?〃
   Jack turned。 〃Yes?〃
   〃What will I see in England when we get there?〃
   〃I don't know what the plan is after we get to Manchester;〃 Ryan reported。
   〃You are CIA?〃 the Rabbit asked again。
   〃Yes。〃 Jack nodded。
   〃How can I be sure of this?〃
   〃Well。。。〃 Ryan fished out his wallet。 〃Here are my driver's license; credit cards; some cash。 My passport is fake; of course。 I'm an American; but they fixed me up with a British one。 Oh;〃 Ryan realized; 〃you're worried that this is all faked?〃
   〃How can I be sure?〃
   〃My friend; in less than an hour; you will be certain it is not。 Here…〃 He opened his wallet again。 〃This is my wife; my daughter; and our new son。 My address at home…in America; that is…is here on my driver's license; 5000 Peregrine Cliff Road; Anne Arundel County; Maryland。 That is right on the Chesapeake Bay。 It takes me about an hour to drive from there to CIA Headquarters at Langley。 My wife is an eye surgeon at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore。 It is world…famous。 You must have heard of it。〃
   Zaitzev just shook his head。
   〃Well; a couple years ago; three docs from Hopkins fixed the eyes of Mikhail Suslov。 I understand he just died。 His replacement; we think; will be Mikhail Yevgeniyevich Alexandrov。 We know a little about him; but not enough。 In fact; we don't know enough about Yuriy Vladimirovich。〃
   〃What do you not know?〃
   〃Is he married? We've never seen a picture of his wife; if any。〃
   〃Yes; everyone knows this。 His wife is Tatiana; elegant woman; my wife says she has noble features。 But no children for them;〃 Oleg concluded。
   Well; there's factoid' #1 from the Rabbit; Ryan thought。
   〃How is it possible that you do not know this?〃 Zaitzev demanded。
   〃Oleg Ivan'ch; there are many things we do not know about the Soviet Union;〃 Jack admitted。 〃Some are important; and some are not。〃
   〃Is this true?〃
   〃Yes; it is。〃
   Something rattled loose in Zaitzev's head。 〃You say your name Ryan?〃
   〃That's right。〃
   〃Your father policeman?〃
   〃How did you know that?〃 Ryan asked in some surprise。
   〃We have small dossier on you。 Washington rezidentura do it。 Your family attacked by hooligans; yes?〃
   〃Correct。〃 KGB is interested in me; eh? Jack thought。 〃Terrorists; they tried to kill me and my family。 My son was born that night。〃
   〃And you join CIA after that?〃
   〃Again; yes…officially; anyway。 I've done work for the Agency for several years。〃 Then curiosity took full hold。 〃What does my dossier say about me?〃
   〃It say you are rich fool。 You were officer in naval infantry; and your wife is rich and you marry her for that reason。 To get more money for self。〃
   So; even the KGB is a prisoner of its own political prejudices; Jack thought。 Interesting。
   〃I am not poor;〃 Jack told the Rabbit。 〃But I married my wife for love; not money。 Only a fool does that。〃
   〃How many capitalists are fools?〃
   Ryan had himself a good laugh。 〃A lot more than you might think。 You do not need to be very smart in America to bee rich。〃 New York and Washington in particular were full of rich idiots; but Ryan thought the Rabbit needed a little while before he learned that lesson。 〃Who did the dossier on me?〃
   〃Reporter in Washington resydentura of Izvestia is junior KGB officer。 He do it last summer。〃
   〃And how did you e to know about it?〃
   〃His dispatch e to my desk; and I forward to America…Canada Institute…is KGB office。 You know that; yes?〃
   〃Yes;〃 Jack confirmed。 〃That is one we do know。〃 That was when his ears popped。 The airliner was descending。 Ryan gunned down the last of his third white wine and told himself it would all be over in a few minutes。 One thing he'd learned from Operation BEATRIX: This field work wasn't for him。
   The no…smoking sign dinged back on。 Ryan brought his chair to its full upright position; and then the lights of Manchester appeared through the windows; the car headlights and the airport fence; and in a few more seconds。。。 thump; the wheels touched down in Merry Old England。 It might not be the same as America; but for the moment it would do。
   Oleg; he saw; had his face against the window; checking out the tail colors of the aircraft。 There were too many for this to be a Soviet Air Force base and a huge maskirovka。 He visibly started to relax。
   〃We wele you to Manchester;〃 the pilot said over the inter。 〃The time is three…forty; and the temperature outside is fifty…four degrees Fahrenheit。 We appreciate your patience earlier today; and we hope to see you again soon in British Midlands Airways。〃
   Yeah; Jack thought。 In your dreams; skipper。
   Ryan sat and waited as the aircraft taxied to the international…arrivals area。 A truck…borne stairway came to the front door; which the lead stew duly opened。 Ryan and the Rabbit family were first off and down the steps; where they were guided to some cars instead of the waiting transfer bus。
   Alan Kingshot was there to take his hand。 〃How was it; Jack?〃
   〃Just like a trip to Disney World;〃 Ryan answered; without a trace of audible irony in his voice。
   〃Right。 Let's get you all loaded and off to a fortable place。〃
   〃Works for me; pal。 What is it; quarter of three?〃 Ryan hadn't changed his watch back yet。 Britain was an hour behind the rest of Europe。
   〃That's right;〃 the field spook confirmed。
   〃Damn;〃 Jack reacted。 Too damned late to call home and tell Cathy he was back。 But; then; he wasn't really back。 Now he had to play CIA representative for the first interview of the Red Rabbit。 Probably Sir Basil had him doing this because he was too junior to be very effective。 Well; maybe he'd show his British host just how dumb he was; Ryan growled to himself。 But first it was time for sleep。 Stress; he'd learned; was about as tiring as jogging…just harder on the heart。
   Back in Budapest; the three bodies were at the city morgue; an institution as depressing behind the Iron Curtain as in front of it。 When Zaitzev's identity as a Russian citizen had been confirmed; a call had been made to the Soviet Embassy; where it was speedily established that the man in question was a KGB officer。 That generated interest in the rezidentura; just across the street from the hotel where he'd ostensibly died; and more telephone calls were made。
   Before five in the morning; Professor Zoltan Biro was awakened in his bed by the AVH。 Biro was professor of pathology at the Ignaz Semmelweis Medical College。 Named for one of the fathers of the germ theory that had transformed the science of medicine in the nineteenth century; it remained a good one; even attracting st
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