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More often he processed messages about defectors or suspected would be defectors…or； just as deadly； suspicion of officers and agents who'd 〃doubled；〃 gone over to serve the enemy。 He'd even seen such evidence passed along in message form； calling an officer home for 〃consultations〃 from which they'd rarely returned back to their rezidenturas。 Exactly what happened to them…that was just the subject of gossip； all of it unpleasant。 One officer who'd gone bad； the story went； had been loaded alive into a crematorium； the way the German SS was supposed to have done。 He'd heard there was a film of it； and he'd talked to people who knew people who knew people who'd seen it。 But he had never actually seen it himself； nor met anyone who had。 Some things； Oleg Ivanovich thought； were too beyond the pale even for the KGB。 No； most of the stories talked of firing squads…which often fucked up； so the stories went…or a single pistol round in the head； as Lavrenti Beriya had done himself。 Those stories； everyone believed。 He'd seen photos of Beria； and they seemed to drip with blood。 And Iron Feliks would doubtless have done it between bites of his sandwich。 He was the kind of man to give ruthlessness an evil name。
But it was generally felt； if not widely spoken； that KGB was being more kulturniy in its dealings with the world。 More cultured。 More civilized。 Kinder and gentler。 Traitors； of course； were executed； but only after a trial in which they were at least given a pro forma chance to explain their actions and； if they were innocent； to prove it。 It almost never happened； but only because the State only prosecuted the truly guilty。 The investigators in the Second Chief Directorate were among the most feared and skilled people in the entire country。 It was said they were never wrong and never fooled； like some kind of gods。
Except that the State said that there were no gods。
Men； then…and women。 Everyone knew about the Sparrow School； about which the men often spoke with twisty grins and winking eyes。 Ah； to be an instructor or； better still； a quality…assurance officer there！ they dreamed。 And to be paid for it。 As his Irina often noted； all men were pigs。 But； Zaitzev mused； it could be fun to be a pig。
Kill the Pope…why？ He was no threat to this country。 Stalin himself had once joked； How many divisions does the Pope have？ So why kill the man？ Even the rezident warned against it。 Goderenko feared the political repercussions。 Stalin had ordered Trotsky killed； and had dispatched a KGB officer to do it； knowing that he'd suffer long…term imprisonment for the task。 But he'd done it； faithful to the Will of the Party； in a professional gesture that they talked about in the academy training classes…along with the more casual advice that we really don't do that sort of thing anymore。 It was not； the instructors didn't add； kulturniy。 And so； yes； KGB was drifting away from that sort of behavior。
Until now。 Until today。 And even our senior rezident is advising against it。 Why？ Because he doesn't want himself and his agency…and his country！…to be so nekulturniy？
Or because to do so would be worse than foolish？ It would be wrong。。。？ 〃Wrong〃 was a concept foreign to citizens in the Soviet Union。 At least； what people perceived as things that were morally wrong。 Morality in his country had been replaced by what was politically correct or incorrect。 Whatever served the interests of his country's political system was worthy of praise。 That which did not was worthy of。。。 death？
And who decided such things？
Men did。
Men did because there was no morality； as the world understood the term。 There was no God to pronounce what was good and what was evil。
And yet。。。
And yet； in the heart of every man was an inborn knowledge of right and wrong。 To kill another man was wrong。 To take a man's life you had to have a just cause。 But it was also men who decided what constituted such cause。 The right men in the right place with the right authority had the ability and the right to kill because…why？
Because Marx and Lenin said so。
That was what the government of his country had long since decided。
Zaitzev buttered his last piece of bread and dipped it in the remaining gravy in his bowl before eating it。 He knew he was thinking overly deep； even dangerous； thoughts。 His parent society did not encourage or even permit independent thinking。 You were not supposed to question the Party and its wisdom。 Certainly not here。 In the KGB cafeteria； you never； ever； not even once heard someone wonder aloud if the Party and the Motherland it served and protected were even capable of doing an incorrect act。 Oh； maybe once in a while； people speculated on tactics； but even then the talk was within limits that were taller and stronger than the Kremlin's own brick walls。
His country's morality； he mused； had been predetermined by a German Jew living in London； and the son of a czarist bureaucrat who simply hadn't liked the czar much and whose overly adventurous brother had been executed for taking direct action。 That man had found shelter in that most capitalistic of nations； Switzerland； then had been dispatched back to Mother Russia by the Germans in the hope that he could upset the czar's government； allowing Germany then to defeat the other Western nations on the Western Front of the First World War。 All in all； it didn't sound like something ordained by any deity for some great plan for human advancement； did it？ Everything Lenin had used as a model for changing his country…and through it； the entire world…had e from a book written by Karl Marx； more writings by Friedrich Engels； and his own vision for being the chief of a new kind of country。
The only thing that distinguished Marxism…Leninism from a religion was the lack of a godhead。 Both systems claimed absolute authority over the affairs of men； and both claimed to be right a priori。 Except that his country's system chose to assert that authority by exercising the power of life and death。
His country said it worked for justice； for the good of the workers and peasants all around the world。 But other men； higher up in the hierarchy； decided who the workers and peasant were； and they themselves lived in ornate dachas and multiroom flats； and had automobiles and drivers。。。 and privileges。
What privileges they had！ Zaitzev had also dispatched messages about pantyhose and perfumes that the men in this building wanted for their women。 These items were often delivered in the diplomatic bag from embassies in the West； things his own country could not produce； but which the nomenklatura craved； along with their West German refrigerators and stoves。 When he saw the big shots racing down the center of Moscow's streets in their chauffeured Zils； then Zaitzev understood how Lenin had felt about the czars。 The czar had claimed divine right as his personal deed to power。 The Party chieftains claimed their positions by the will of the people。
Except that the People had never given anything to them by public acclamation。 The Western democracies had elections…Pravda spat upon them every few years…but they were real elections。 England was now run by a nasty…looking woman； and America by an aged and buffoonish actor； but both had been chosen by the people of their countries； and the previous rulers had been removed by popular choice。 Neither leader was well…loved in the Soviet Union； and he'd seen many official messages sent out to ascertain their mental state and deeply held political beliefs； the concern in those messages had been manifest； and Zaitzev himself had his worries； but as distasteful and unstable as these leaders might be； their people had chosen them。 The Soviet people had decidedly not selected the current crop of princes on the Politburo。
And now the new munist princes were thinking about murdering a Polish priest in Rome。 But how did he threaten the Rodina？ This Pope fellow had no military formations at his mand。 A political threat； then？ But how？ The Vatican was supposed to have diplomatic identity； but nationhood without military power was…what？ If there was no God； then whatever power the Pope exercised had to be an illusion； of no more substan