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thing。〃
〃So； what happened to the report to your President？〃
〃They sent it to him； but with five pages of mine appended to the back。 I hope he got that far。 They say he reads a lot。 Anyway； what I'm saying is that they base their policy on lies； and maybe we can make better policy by appreciating reality a little bit better。 I think their economy's in the shitter； Simon。 It can't be performing as well as their data says it is。 If it were； we'd be seeing the positive results in the products they make； but we don't； do we？〃
〃Why be afraid of a country that can't feed itself？〃
〃Yep。〃 Ryan nodded。
〃In the Second World War…〃
〃In 1941； Russia got invaded by a country that they never liked much； but Hitler was too damned stupid to make their antipathy for their own government work for him； so he implemented racist policies that were calculated to drive the Russian people back into the arms of Joe Stalin。 So that's a false parison； Simon。 The Soviet Union is fundamentally unstable。 Why？ Because it's an unjust society； and there ain't no such thing as a stable unjust society。 Their economy。。。〃 He paused。 〃You know； there ought to be a way to make that work for us。。。〃
〃And do what？〃
〃Shake their foundations some。 Maybe a mild earthquake；〃 Ryan suggested。
〃And bring them crashing down？〃 Harding asked。 His eyebrows went up。 〃They do have a lot of nuclear weapons； you might want to remember。〃
〃Okay； fine； we try to arrange a soft landing。〃
〃Bloody decent of you； Jack。〃
CHAPTER 7 … SIMMERING
Ed foleys job as Press Attache was not overly demanding in terms of the time required to stroke the local American correspondents and occasionally others。 〃Others〃 included reporters purportedly from Pravda and other Russian publications。 Foley assumed that all of them were KGB officers or stringers…there was no difference between the two since KGB routinely used journalistic covers for its field officers。 As a result； most Soviet reporters in America as often as not had an FBI agent or two in close attendance； at least when the FBI had agents to spare for the task； which wasn't all that often。 Reporters and field intelligence officers had virtually identical functions。
He'd just been pinged hard by a Pravda guy named Pavel Kuritsyn； who was either a professional spook or sure as hell had read a lot of spy novels。 Since it was easier to act dumb than smart； he'd fumbled through his Russian； smiling with apparent pride at how well he'd mastered the plex language。 For his part； Kuritsyn had advised the American to watch Russian TV； the quicker to master the mother tongue。 Foley had then drafted a contact report for the CIA files； noting that this Pavel Yevgeniyevich Kuritsyn smelled like a Second Chief Directorate boy who was checking him out； and opining that he thought he'd passed the test。 You couldn't be sure； of course。 For all he knew； the Russians did employ people who read minds。 Foley knew that they'd experimented in almost everything； even something called remote viewing； which to his professional mind was a step down from gypsy fortune…tellers…but which had gotten the Agency to start a program of its own； much to Foley's disgust。 For Ed Foley； if you couldn't hold it； then it wasn't real。 But there was no telling what those pantywaists in the Directorate of Intelligence would try； just to bypass what the DO people…the real spooks in CIA…had to do every goddamned day。
It was enough that Ivan had eyes； and Christ knew how many ears； in the embassy； though the building was regularly swept by electronics experts。 （Once they'd even succeeded in planting a bug in the ambassador's own office。） Just across the street was a former church that was used by KGB。 In the U。S。 Embassy； it was known as Our Lady of the Microchips； because the structure was full of microwave transmitters aimed at the embassy； their function being to interfere with all the listening devices that Station Moscow used to tap in to Soviet phone and radio systems。 The amount of radiation that came in flirted with dangerous…to…your…health levels； and as a result the embassy was protected with metal sheeting in the drywall； which reflected a lot of it right back at the people across the street。 The game had rules； and the Russians pretty much played within them； but the rules often didn't make a hell of a lot of sense。 There had been quiet protests to the local natives about the microwaves； but these were invariably met with shrugs of 〃Who； us？〃 And that was as far as it usually went。 The embassy doc said he wasn't worried…but his office was in the basement； shielded from the radiation by stone and dirt。 Some people said you could cook a hot dog by putting it on the east…facing windowsills。
Two people who did know about Ed Foley were the ambassador and the Defense Attache。 The former was Ernest Fuller。 Fuller looked like an illustration from a book about patricians： tall； slim； with a regal mane of white hair。 In fact； he'd grown up on an Iowa hog farm； gotten a scholarship to Northwestern University； and then a law degree； which had taken him to corporate boardrooms； where he finally ended up as CEO of a major auto pany。 Along the way； he'd served three years in the U。S。 Navy in World War II on the light cruiser USS Boise during the Guadalcanal campaign。 He was regarded as a serious player and a gifted amateur by the embassy's FSOs。
The Defense Attache was Brigadier General George Dalton。 By profession an artilleryman； he got along well with his Russian counterparts。 Dalton was a bear of a man with curly black hair； who'd played linebacker for West Point twenty…odd years before。
Foley had an appointment with both of them…ostensibly； to talk over relations with the American news correspondents。 Even his internal embassy business needed a cover in this station。
〃How's your son adjusting？〃 Fuller asked。
〃He misses his cartoons。 Before we came over； I bought one of those new tape machines…you know； the Betamax thing…and some tapes； but those only last so long； and they cost an arm and a leg。〃
〃There's a local version of Roadrunner…Coyote；〃 General Dalton told him。 〃It's called Wait a Moment； something like that。 It's not as good as Warner Brothers； but better than that damned exercise show in the morning。 The gal on that could whip a mand sergeant…major。〃
〃I noticed that yesterday morning。 Is she part of their Olympic weight…lifting squad？〃 Foley joked。 〃Anyway。。。〃
〃First impressions…any surprises？〃 Fuller asked。
Foley shook his head。 〃About what I was briefed to expect。 Looks like everywhere I go； I have pany。 How long you suppose that will last？〃
〃Maybe a week or so。 Take a walk around…better yet； watch Ron Fielding when he takes a walk。 He does his job pretty well。〃
〃Anything major under way？〃 Ambassador Fuller asked。
〃No； sir。 Just routine operations at the moment。 But the Russians have something very large happening at home。〃
〃What's that？〃 Fuller asked。
〃They call it Operation RYAN。 Their acronym for Surprise Nuclear Attack on the Motherland。 They're worried that the President might want to nuke them； and they have officers running around back home trying to get a feel for his mental state。〃
〃You're serious？〃 Fuller asked。
〃As a heart attack。 I guess they took the campaign rhetoric a little too seriously。〃
〃I have had a few odd questions from their foreign ministry；〃 the Ambassador said。 〃But I just wrote it off to small talk。〃
〃Sir； we're investing a lot of money in the military； and that makes them nervous。〃
〃Whereas； when they buy ten thousand new tanks； it's normal？〃 General Dalton observed。
〃Exactly；〃 Foley agreed。 〃A gun in my hand is a defensive weapon； but a gun in your hand is an offensive weapon。 It's a matter of outlook； I suppose。〃
〃Have you seen this？〃 Fuller asked； handing across a fax from Foggy Bottom。
Foley scanned it。 〃Uh…oh。〃
〃I told Washington it would worry the Soviets a good deal。 What do you think？〃
〃I concur； sir。 In several ways。 Most important will be the potential unrest in Poland； which could spread throughout their empire。 That's the one area in which they think long…term。 Political stability is their sin