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looking his way。 But。。。 no； almost certainly not。 His maneuver had gone undetected； even by the American。
Foley didn'T EVEN let his eyes move as he read to the bottom of the hockey article。 Had he been in New York or any other Western city； he would have thought that someone had just attempted to pick his pocket。 Strangely； he didn't expect that here。 Soviet citizens were not allowed to have Western currency； and so there was nothing but trouble to be gained in robbing an American on the street； much less picking his pocket。 And KGB； which was probably still shadowing him； was most unlikely to do anything like that。 If they wanted to lift his wallet； they'd use a two…man team； as professional American pickpockets did； one to delay and distract； and the other to make the lift。 You could get almost anyone that way； unless the target was alerted； and staying alert for so long was a lot to ask； even of an expert professional spook。 So you employed passive defenses； like wrapping a rubber band or two around the wallet…simple； but very effective； and one of the things they taught you at The Farm； the sort of basic tradecraft that didn't announce 〃spy！〃 to everyone。 The NYPD advised people to do the same thing on the streets of Manhattan； and he was supposed to look like an American。 Since he had a diplomatic passport and 〃legal〃 cover； theoretically； his person was inviolable。 Not necessarily from a street thug； of course； and both the KGB and the FBI were not above having a highly trained street thug rough someone up； albeit within carefully thought…through parameters； lest things get out of control。 The entire state of affairs made the Imperial Court of Byzantium look simple by parison； but Ed Foley didn't make the rules。
Those rules now did not allow him to check his pocket or make the least sign that he knew that someone's hand had been in there。 Maybe someone had dropped him a note…a notice of desire to defect； even。 But why him？ His cover was supposed to be as solid as a T…bill； unless someone in the embassy had made a very shrewd guess and then ratted him out。。。 But no； even then； KGB wouldn't tip their hand this quickly。 They'd watch him for a few weeks at least； just to see what else he might lead them to。 KGB played the game too skillfully for that sort of play； so； no； there wasn't much chance that whoever had searched his pocket was a Second Chief Directorate guy。 And probably not a pickpocket； either。 Then what？ Foley wondered。 He'd have to be patient to find out； but Foley knew a lot about patience。 He kept on reading his newspaper。 If it were someone who wanted to do a little business； why scare him off？ At the very least； he'd let him feel clever。 It was always useful to help other people feel smart。 That way； they could continue their mistakes。
Three more stops before he got off the subway。 Foley had known up front that it would be a lot more productive to ride it than to drive the car。 That Mercedes was just too standout…ish for this place。 It would make Mary Pat stand out； too； but to her way of thinking； that worked for her rather than against。 His wife had brilliant field instincts； better than his； but she often scared him in her daring。 It wasn't so much that Mary Pat was a risk…taker。 Every member of the DO took risks。 It was her relish for doing so that occasionally worried him。 For him； playing with the Russians was part of the job。 It was business； as Don Vito Corleone would have put it； not personal。 But for Mary Patricia； it was as personal as hell； because of her grandfather。
She'd lusted to be part of CIA before they'd met in the Student Union at Fordham； and then again at the CIA recruiter's desk； and they'd hit it off soon after that。 She'd already had her Russian…language skills。 She could pass for a native。 She could alter her accent for any region of the country。 She could feign being an instructor in poetry at Moscow State University； and she was pretty； and pretty women had an advantage over everyone else。 It was the oldest of prejudices； that the attractive among us had to be good people； that the bad people had to be ugly because they did ugly things。 Men were especially deferential to pretty women； other women were less so； because they envied their looks； but even they were nice by instinct。 So Mary Pat could skate on a lot of things； because she was just that pretty American girl； that ditsy blonde； because blondes were universally thought to be dumb； even here in Russia； where they were not all that unmon。 The ones here were probably natural blondes； too； because the local cosmetics industry was about as advanced as it must have been in twelfth…century Hungary； and there wasn't much Clairol Blond #100G in the local drugstores。 No； the Soviet Union paid scant attention to the needs of its womenfolk； which led his mind to another question…why had the Russians stopped at only one revolution？ In America there would have been hell to pay for the lack of choices in clothes and cosmetics the women had here。。。
The train stopped at his station。 Foley made his way to the door and walked to the escalator。 Halfway up； his curiosity got the better of him。 He rubbed his nose as though with a case of the sniffles； and fished in his pocket for a handkerchief。 He rubbed his nose with it and then shoved it in his coat pocket； which； he discovered； was empty。 So what had that been all about？ There was no telling。 Just one more random event in a life filled with them？
But Edward Foley hadn't been trained to think in terms of random events。 He'd continue this regular schedule； and be sure to catch this same subway train every day for a week or so； just to see if there might be a repeat。
Albert Byrd seemed a petent eye cutter。 He was shorter and older than Jack。 He had a beard； black and showing hints of gray…like a lot of beards in England； she'd noted。 And tattoos。 More than she'd ever encountered before。 Professor Byrd was a skilled clinician； good with his pa tients； and a very adept surgeon； liked and trusted by his nursing team…always the sign of a good doc； Cathy knew。 He seemed to be a good teacher； but Cathy already knew most of what he had to teach； and knew more about lasers than he did。 The argon laser here was new； but not as new as the one at Hopkins； and it would be two weeks before they even had a xenon…arc laser； for which she was Wilmer Eye Institute's best jockey at Hopkins。
The bad news was in the physical facilities。 Health care in Britain was effectively a government monopoly。 Everything was free…and； like everywhere in the world； you got what you paid for。 The waiting rooms were far shabbier than Cathy was used to； and she remarked on it。
〃I know；〃 Professor Byrd said tiredly。 〃It's not a priority。〃
〃The third case I saw this morning； Mrs。 Dover； she'd been on the waiting list for eleven months…for a cataract evaluation that took me twenty minutes。 My God； Albert； at home her family physician just calls my secretary and I see her in three or four days。 I work hard at Hopkins； but not that hard。〃
〃What would you charge？〃
〃For that？ Oh。。。 two hundred dollars。 Since I'm an assistant professor at Wilmer； I e a little higher than a new resident。〃 But； she didn't add； she was a damned sight smarter than the average resident； more experienced； and a faster worker。 〃Mrs。 Dover is going to need surgery to correct it；〃 she added。 〃Want me to do it？ 〃
〃plicated？〃 Byrd asked。
She shook her head。 〃Routine procedure。 About ninety minutes' work because of her age； but it doesn't look as though there should be any plications。〃
〃Well； Mrs。 Dover will go on the list。〃
〃How long？〃
〃It's not an emergency procedure。。。 nine to ten months；〃 Byrd figured。
〃You're kidding；〃 Cathy objected。 〃That long？〃
〃That's about normal。〃
〃But that's nine or ten months during which she can't see well enough to drive a car！〃
〃She won't ever see a bill；〃 Byrd pointed out。
〃Fine。 She can't read the newspapers for the best part of a year。 Albert； that's awful！〃
〃It's our national health…care system；〃 Byrd explained。
〃I see；〃 Cathy said。 But she didn't really。 The surgeons here were proficient enough； but they did only a bit more than half the