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〃Our chaps think he's got five years or so；〃 Harding offered。
〃Well； I'm not a doc。 You can have some people talk to Bernie about it if you want； but everything is right there。 Cathy says you can tell a lot about diabetes from looking at the eyeball。〃
〃Does Suslov know that？〃
Ryan shrugged。 〃That is a good question； Simon。 Docs don't always tell their patients； probably less so over there。 Figure Suslov's being treated by a politically reliable doctor of professorial rank。 Here； that would mean a top…drawer guy who really knows his stuff。 Over there。。。？〃
Harding nodded。 〃Correct。 He may know his Lenin more than his Pasteur。 Did you ever hear about Sergey Korolev； their chief rocket designer？ That was a particularly ugly incident。 The poor bugger was essentially murdered on the table because two senior surgeons didn't like each other； and one wouldn't bail the other out when the boat began to leak badly。 It was probably good for the West； but he was a fine engineer； and he was killed by medical inpetence。〃
〃Anybody pay up for that one？〃 Ryan asked。
〃Oh； no。 They were both too politically important； lots of patrons in high places。 They're safe； until they kill one of their friends； and that won't happen。 I'm sure they both have petent young people under them to cover their backsides。〃
〃You know what they need in Russia？ Lawyers。 I don't like ambulance…chasers； but I guess they do keep people on their toes。〃
〃In any case； no； Suslov probably does not know the gravity of his condition。 At least that's what our medical consultants think。 He still drinks his vodka according to HUMINT reports； and that is definitely contra…indicated。〃 Harding grimaced。 〃And his replacement will be Alexandrov； every bit as unpleasant a chap as his mentor。 I'll have to see about updating his dossier。〃 He made a note。
As for Ryan； he turned back to his morning briefing pages before starting on his official project。 Greer wanted Ryan to work on a study of management practices in the Soviet armament industry； to see how…and if…that segment of the Soviet economy worked。 Ryan and Harding would be cooperating on the study； which would use both British and American data。 It was something that suited Ryan's academic background。 It might even get him noticed high up。
The return message came in at 11：32 hours。 Fast work in Rome； Zaitzev thought； as he began the decryption。 He'd call Colonel Rozhdestvenskiy as soon as he got through it； but it was going to take a while。 The captain checked the wall clock。 It would delay his lunch； too； but the priority condemned him to some stomach growls。 About the only good news was that Colonel Goderenko had started his encipherment sequence at the top of page 285。
MOST SECRET IMMEDIATE AND URGENT
FROM： REZIDENT ROME
To： OFFICE OF CHAIRMAN； Moscow CENTRE
REFERENCE： YOUR OP DISPATCH 15…8…82…666
GETTING CLOSE TO THE PRIEST is NOT DIFFICULT WITHOUT FIXED TIME CONSTRAINTS。 GUIDANCE WILL BE NEEDED FOR A FULL EVALUATION OF YOUR REQUEST。 PRIEST ENGAGES IN PREDICTABLE PUBLIC AUDIENCES AND APPEARANCES WHICH ARE KNOWN WELL IN ADVANCE。 To MAKE USE OF THIS OPPORTUNITY WILL NOT RPT NOT BE EASY DUE TO LARGE CROWDS ATTENDING FUNCTIONS。 SECURITY ARRANGEMENTS FOR HIM DIFFICULT TO ASSESS WITHOUT FURTHER GUIDANCE。 REMEND AGAINST PHYSICAL ACTION TO BE TAKEN AGAINST PRIEST DUE TO EXPECTED ADVERSE POLITICAL CONSEQUENCES。 DIFFICULT TO HIDE ORIGIN OF AN OPERATION AGAINST PRIEST。 ENDS。
Well； Zaitzev thought； the rezident didn't like this idea very much。 Would Yuriy Vladimirovich listen to this bit of advice from the field？ That； Zaitzev knew； was far above his pay grade。 He lifted his phone and dialed。
〃Colonel Rozhdestvenskiy；〃 the brusque voice answered。
〃Captain Zaitzev in munications Central。 I have a reply to your six…six…six； rade Colonel。〃
〃On my way；〃 Rozhdestvenskiy responded。
The colonel was as good as his word； passing through the control point three minutes later。 By that time； Zaitzev had returned the cipher book to central storage and slipped the message form； plus the translation； into a brown envelope； which he handed to the colonel。
〃Has anyone seen this？〃 Rozhdestvenskiy asked。
〃Certainly not； rade；〃 Zaitzev replied。
〃Very well。〃 Colonel Rozhdestvenskiy walked away without another word。 For his part； Zaitzev left his work desk and headed off to the cafeteria for lunch。 The food was the best reason to work at The Centre。
What he could not leave behind as he stopped at the lavatory to wash his hands was the message sequence。 Yuriy Andropov wanted to kill the Pope； and the rezident in Rome didn't like the idea。 Zaitzev wasn't supposed to have any opinions。 He was just part of the munications system。 It rarely occurred to the hierarchy of the mittee for State Security that its people actually had minds。。。
。。。 and even consciences。。。
Zaitzev took his place in line and got the metal tray and utensils。 He decided on the beef stew and four thick slices of bread； with a large glass of tea。 The cashier charged him fifty…five kopecks。 His usual luncheon mates had already been and gone； so he ended up picking an end seat at a table filled with people he didn't know。 They were talking about football； and he didn't join in； alone with his thoughts。 The stew was quite good； as was the bread； fresh from the ovens。 About the only thing they didn't have here was proper silverware； as they did in the private dining rooms on the upper floors。 Instead they used the same feather…light zinc…aluminum as all the other Soviet citizens。 It worked well enough； but because it was so light； it felt awkward in his hands。
So； he thought； I was right。 The Chairman is thinking about murdering the Pope。
Zaitzev was not a religious man。 He had not been to a church in his entire life…except those large buildings converted to museums since the Revolution。 All he knew about religion was the propaganda dispensed as a matter of course in Soviet public education。 And yet some of the children he'd known in school had talked about believing in God； and he hadn't reported them； because informing just wasn't his way。 The Great Questions of Life were things he didn't much think about。 For the most part； life in the Soviet Union was limited to yesterday； today； and tomorrow。 The economic facts of life really didn't allow a person to make long…term plans。 There were no country houses to buy； no luxury cars to desire； no elaborate vacations to save for。 In mitting what it called socialism on the people； the government of his country allowed…forced…everyone to aspire to much the same things； regardless of individual tastes； which meant getting on an endless list and being notified when one's name came up…and being unknowingly bumped by those with greater Party seniority…or not； because some people had access to better places。 His life； like everyone else's； was like that of a steer on a feed lot。 He was cared for moderately well and fed the same bland food at the same time on endlessly identical days。 There was a grayness； an overarching boredom； to every aspect of life…alleviated in his case only by the content of the messages which he processed and forwarded。 He wasn't supposed to think about the messages； much less remember them； but without anybody to talk to； all he could do was dwell on them in the privacy of his own mind。 Today his mind had just one occupant； and it would not silence itself。 It raced around like a hamster in an exercise wheel； going round and round but always returning to the same place。
Andropov wants to kill the Pope。
He'd processed assassination messages before。 Not many。 KGB was gradually drifting away from it。 Too many things went wrong。 Despite the professional skill and cleverness of the field officers； policemen in other countries were endlessly clever and had the mindless patience of a spider in its web； and until KGB could just wish a person dead and have it e to pass； there would be witnesses and evidence； because a cloak of invisibility was something found only in tales for children。
More often he processed messages about defectors or suspected would be defectors…or； just as deadly； suspicion of officers and agents who'd 〃doubled；〃