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They're really going to do it； Oleg Ivanovich told himself with a frown。 What do I do now？
Work his usual day； and then look for a green tie on the metro home。 And pray he saw it？ Or pray he didn't？
Zaitzev shook the thought off and called for a messenger to hand…deliver the dispatch to the top floor。 A moment later； a basketful of dispatches landed on his desk for processing。
〃Ouch；〃 Ed Foley said aloud at his desk。 The message…a lengthy one…came from Ritter and Moore； speaking for the President。 He'd have to rattle some serious bushes for this。
Station Moscow didn't have a written list of agents； even by code names； and even in Foley's office safe； which in addition to a bination had a two…phase alarm built in； a keypad on the outside； and one on the inside with a different code； which Foley had set himself。 The embassy's Marines had orders to respond to either alarm with drawn weapons； since the contents of this safe were about the most sensitive documents in the whole building。
But Foley had the names of every Russian citizen who worked for the Agency hard cut into his eyelids； along with their specialty areas。 Twelve such agents were currently operating。 They'd just lost one the week before he'd arrived in Moscow…burned。 No one knew how； though Foley was concerned that the Russians might have a mole in Langley itself。 It was heresy to think it； but as CIA tried to do it to KGB； so KGB tried to do it to CIA； and there was no referee on the playing field to let the players know what the score was。 The lost agent； whose code name had been SOUSA； was a lieutenant colonel in the GRU and had helped identify some major leaks in the German defense ministry and other NATO sources； through which KGB had gotten political…military intelligence of a high order。 But that guy was dead…still breathing； perhaps； but dead even so。 Foley hoped they wouldn't load the guy alive into a furnace； as had been done with another GRU source back in the 1950s。 Rather a cruel method of execution； even for the Russians under Khrushchev； and something that had kept his case officer awake for a very long time； the COS was sure。
So they'd have to get two； maybe three； of their agents working on this one。 They had a good guy in KGB and another in the Party Central mittee。 Maybe one of them might have heard about a possible operation against the Pope。
Damn； Foley thought； are they that crazy？ It required a considerable stretch of his imagination。 An Irishman by ancestry； and Roman Catholic by education and religious affiliation； Ed Foley had to make a mental effort to set aside his personal thoughts。 Such a plot was beyond the pale； perhaps； but he was dealing with people who didn't recognize the concept of limits； certainly not from any outside agency。 For them； God was politics； and a threat to their political world was like Lucifer himself challenging the order of heaven。 Except that the simile only went so far。 This was more like Michael the Archangel challenging the order of Hell。 Mary Pat called it the belly of the beast； and this one was one nasty fuckin' beast。
〃Daddy！〃 Sally exclaimed； waking up with her usual smile。 He guided her to the bathroom and then downstairs； where her oatmeal was waiting。 Sally still wore her bunny…rabbit sleepers； with feet and a long zipper。 This one was yellow。 And it was the largest size； and her feet were stretching it。 She'd have to change to some other sleepwear soon； but that was Cathy's department。
The routine was set。 Cathy fed Little Jack and； halfway through； her husband set down his paper and headed upstairs to shave。 By the time he was dressed； she was finished with her duty； and went off to get cleaned up and dressed while Jack burped the little guy and got him into his socks to keep his feet warm； and also to give him something to pull off so that he could see if the feet tasted the same as they had the previous day； which was a newly acquired skill。
Soon the doorbell rang； and it was Margaret van der Beek； soon followed by Ed Beaverton； which allowed the parents to escape off to work。 At Victoria Station； Cathy kissed her husband good…bye and headed for the tube station for the ride to Moorefields； while Jack took a different train to Century House； and the day was about to start for real。
〃Good morning； Sir John。〃
〃Hey； Bert。〃 Ryan paused。 Bert Canderton had 〃army〃 written all over him； and it was time to ask。 〃What regiment were you？〃
〃I was Regimental Sergeant Major of the Royal Green Jackets； sir。〃
〃Infantry？〃
〃Correct； sir。〃
〃I thought you guys wore red coats；〃 Ryan observed。
〃Well； that's your fault…you Yanks； that is。 In your revolutionary war； my regiment took so many casualties from your riflemen that the colonel of the regiment decided a green tunic might be safer。 It's been that way ever since。〃
〃How did you end up here？〃
〃I'm waiting for an opening at the Tower to be a Yeoman Warder； sir。 Should have a new red coat in a month or so； they tell me。〃
Canderton's rent…a…cop blouse had some service ribbons on it； probably not for brushing and flossing his teeth； and a regimental sergeant major in the British army was somebody； like a master gunnery sergeant in the Marine Corps。
〃I've been there； been to the club they have；〃 said Ryan。 〃Good bunch of troops。〃
〃Indeed。 I have a friend there； Mick Truelove。 He was in the Queen's Regiment。〃
〃Well； sar…major； keep the bad guys out；〃 Ryan said； as he worked his card into the electronic slot that controlled the entry gate。
〃I will do that； sir；〃 Canderton promised。
Harding was at his desk when Ryan came in。 Jack hung his jacket on the tree。
〃e in early； Simon？〃
〃Your Judge Moore sent a fax to Bas last night…just after midnight； as a matter of fact。 Here。〃 He handed it across。
Ryan scanned it。 〃The Pope； eh？〃
〃Your President is interested； and so is the PM； as it happens；〃 Harding said； relighting his pipe。 〃Basil called us in early to go over what data we have。〃
〃Okay； what do we have？〃
〃Not much；〃 Harding admitted。 〃I can't talk to you about our sources…〃
〃Simon； I'm not dumb。 You have somebody in close； either a confidante of a Politburo member or someone in the Party Secretariat。 He's not telling you anything？〃 Ryan had seen some very interesting 〃take〃 in here； and it had to have e from somebody inside the big red tent。
〃I can't confirm your suspicion；〃 Harding cautioned； 〃but no； none of our sources have given us anything； not even that the Warsaw Letter has arrived in Moscow； though we know it must have。〃
〃So； we don't know jackshit？〃
Simon nodded soberly。 〃Correct。〃
〃Amazing how often that happens。〃
〃It's just a part of the job； Jack。〃
〃And the PM has her panties in a wad？〃
Harding hadn't heard that Americanism before； and it caused him to blink twice。 〃So it would seem。〃
〃So； what are we supposed to tell her？ She damned sure doesn't want to hear that we don't know。〃
〃No； our political leaders do not like to hear that sort of thing。〃
Neither do ours； Ryan admitted to himself。 〃So； how good is Basil at a song…and…dance number？〃
〃Quite good； actually。 In this case； he can say that your chaps do not have very much； either。〃
〃Ask other NATO services？〃
Harding shook his head。 〃No。 It might leak out to the opposition…first； that we're interested； and second； that we don't know enough。〃
〃How good are our friends？〃
〃Depends。 The French SDECE occasionally turns good information； but they do not like to share。 Neither do our Israeli friends。 The Germans are thoroughly promised。 That Markus Wolf chap in East Germany is a bloody genius at this business…perhaps the best in the world； and under Soviet control。 The Italians have some talented people； but they； too； have problems with penetration。 You know； the best service on the continent might well be the Vatican itself。 But if Ivan is doing anything at the moment； he's covering it nicely。 Ivan is quite good at that； you know。〃
〃So I've heard；〃 Ryan agreed。 〃When does Basil have to go to Downing Street？〃
〃After lunch…three this afternoon； I understand。〃
〃And what will we be able to give him？〃
〃Not very much； I'm afra