tc.thebearandthedragon-第109部分

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thy；　Ryan　couldn't　lie　worth　a　damn；　which　was　also　why　she　didn't　worry　about　his　fidelity。　Jack　had　the　dissimulation　ability　of　a　two…year…old；　despite　all　the　help　and　training　he　got　from　Arnie。　Jack　caught　the　look　and　nodded。　Yeah；　it　was　China　again。　Ten　minutes　later；　breakfast　was　fully　consumed　and　the　TV　was　turned　off；　and　the　Ryan　family　headed　downstairs　to　work；　to　school；　or　to　the　day…care　center　at　Johns　Hopkins；　depending　on　age；　with　the　requisite　contingent　of　Secret　Service　bodyguards。　Jack　kissed　them　all　in　their　turn；　except　for　little　Jack…SHORTSTOP　to　the　Secret　Service…because　John　Patrick　Ryan；　Jr。；　didn't　go　in　for　that　sissy　stuff。　There　was　something　to　be　said　for　having　daughters；　Ryan　thought；　as　he　headed　for　the　Oval　Office。　Ben　Goodley　was　there；　waiting　with　the　President's　Daily　Brief。
　〃You　have　the　one　from　SecState？〃　CARDSHARP　asked。
　〃Yeah；　Andrea　delivered　it。〃　Ryan　fell　into　his　swivel　chair　and　lifted　the　phone；　punching　the　proper　speed…dial　button。
　〃Good　morning；　Jack；〃　SecState　said　in　greeting；　despite　a　short　night's　sleep　gotten　on　the　convertible　sofa　in　his　own　office。　Fortunately；　his　private　bathroom　also　had　a　shower。
　〃Approved。　Bring　them　all　back；〃　SWORDSMAN　told　EAGLE。
　〃Who　handles　the　announcement？〃　Secretary　Adler　asked。
　〃You　do　it。　We'll　try　to　low…key　it；〃　the　president　said；　with　forlorn　hope　in　his　voice。
　〃Right；〃　Adler　thought。　〃Anything　else？〃
　〃That's　it　for　now。〃
　〃Okay；　see　ya；　Scott。〃　Ryan　replaced　the　phone。　〃What　about　China？〃　he　asked　Goodley。　〃Are　they　doing　anything　unusual？〃
　〃No。　Their　military　is　active；　but　it's　routine　training　activity　only。　Their　most　active　sectors　are　up　in　their　northeast　and　opposite　Taiwan。　Lesser　activity　in　their　southwest；　north　of　India。〃
　〃With　all　the　good　luck　the　Russians　are　having　with　oil　and　gold；　are　the　Chinese　looking　north　with　envy？〃
　〃It's　not　bad　speculation；　but　we　have　no　positive　indications　of　that　from　any　of　our　sources。〃　Everybody　envied　rich　neighbors；　after　all。　That's　what　had　encouraged　Saddam　Hussein　to　invade　Kuwait；　despite　having　lots　of　oil　under　his　own　sand。
　〃Any　of　our　sources〃　includes　SORGE；　the　President　reminded　himself。　He　pondered　that　for　a　second。　〃Tell　Ed　I　want　a　SNIE　on　Russia　and　China。〃
　〃Quick？〃　Goodley　asked。　A　Special　National　Intelligence　Estimate　could　take　months　to　prepare。
　〃Three　or　four　weeks。　And　I　want　to　be　able　to　hang　my　hat　on　it。〃
　〃I'll　tell　the　DCI；〃　Goodley　promised。
　〃Anything　else？〃　Ryan　asked。
　〃That's　it　for　now；　sir。〃
　Jack　nodded　and　checked　his　calendar。　He　had　a　fairly　routine　day；　but　the　next　one　would　largely　be　spent　on　Air　Force　One　flying　hither　and　yon　across　America；　and　he　was　overnighting　in…he　flipped　the　page　on　the　printout…Seattle；　before　flying　home　to　Washington　and　another　full　day。　It　was　just　as　easy　for　him　to　use　the　VC…25A　as　a　red…eye　。。。　oh；　yeah；　he　had　a　breakfast　speech　in　Seattle　to　the　local　Jaycees。　He'd　be　talking　about　school　reform。　That　generated　a　grunt。　There　just　weren't　enough　nuns　to　go　around。　The　School　Sisters　of　Notre　Dame　had　taught　him　at　St。　Matthew's　Elementary　School　in　northeast　Baltimore　back　forty…plus　years　earlier…and　taught　him　well；　because　the　penalty　for　not　learning　or　for　misbehaving　did　not　bear　contemplation　for　a　seven…year…old。　But　the　truth　of　the　matter　was　that　he'd　been　a　good；　and　fairly　obedient…dull；　Jack　admitted　to　himself　with　a　wry　smile…child　who'd　gotten　good　marks　because　he'd　had　a　good　mom　and　a　good　dad；　which　was　a　lot　more　than　too　many　contemporary　American　kids　could　say…and　how　the　hell　was　he　supposed　to　fix　that？　Jack　asked　himself。　How　could　he　bring　back　the　ethos　of　his　parents'　generation；　the　importance　of　religion；　and　a　world　in　which　engaged　people　went　to　the　altar　as　virgins？　Now　they　were　talking　about　telling　kids　that　homosexual　and　lesbian　sex　was　okay。　What　would　Sister　Frances　Mary　have　said　about　that？　Jack　wondered。　A　pity　she　wasn't　around　to　crack　some　senators　and　representatives　over　the　knuckles　with　her　ruler。　It　had　worked　on　him　and　his　classmates　at　St。　Matthew's。　。　。
　The　desk　speaker　buzzed。　〃Senator　Smithers　just　arrived　at　the　West　Entrance。〃　Ryan　stood　and　went　to　his　right；　the　door　that　came　in　from　the　secretaries'　anteroom。　For　some　reason；　people　preferred　that　one　to　the　door　off　the　corridor　opposite　the　Roosevelt　Room。　Maybe　it　was　more　businesslike。　But　mainly　they　liked　to　see　the　President　standing　when　the　door　opened；　his　hand　extended　and　a　smile　on　his　face；　as　though　he　really　was　glad　to　see　them。　Sure；　Wilbur。
　Mary　Smithers　from　Iowa；　matronly；　three　kids　and　seven　grandkids；　he　thought；　more　talk　about　the　Farm　Bill。　What　the　hell　was　he　supposed　to　know　about　farms？　the　President　wondered。　On　those　rare　occasions　that　he　purchased　food；　he　did　it　at　the　supermarket…because　that's　where　it　all　came　from；　wasn't　it？　One　of　the　things　on　the　briefing　pages　for　his　political　appearances　was　always　the　local　price　for　bread　and　milk　in　case　some　local　reporter　tested　him。　And　chocolate　milk　came　from　brown　cows。
　
　Accordingly；　Ambassador　Hitch　and　Assistant　Secretary　Rutledge　will　be　flying　back　to　Washington　for　consultations；〃　the　spokesman　told　the　audience。
　〃Does　this　signal　a　break　in　relations　with　China？〃　a　reporter　asked　at　once。
　〃Not　at　all。　'Consultations'　means　just　that。　We　will　discuss　the　recent　developments　with　our　representatives　so　that　our　relations　with　China　can　more　speedily　be　brought　back　to　what　they　ought　to　be；〃　the　spokesman　replied　smoothly。
　The　assembled　reporters　didn't　know　what　to　make　of　that　and　so　three　more　questions　of　virtually　identical　content　were　immediately　asked；　and　answers　of　virtually　identical　content　repeated　for　them。
　〃He's　good；〃　Ryan　said；　watching　the　TV；　which　was　pirating　the　CNN　（and　other）　coverage　off　the　satellites。　It　wasn't　going　out　live；　oddly　enough；　despite　the　importance　of　the　news　being　generated。
　〃Not　good　enough；〃　Arnie　van　Damm　observed。　〃You're　going　to　get　hit　with　this；　too。〃
　〃I　figured。　When？〃
　〃The　next　time　they　catch　you　in　front　of　a　camera；　Jack。〃
　And　he　had　as　much　chance　of　ducking　a　camera　as　the　leadoff　hitter　at　opening　day　at　Yankee　Stadium；　the　President　knew。　Cameras　at　the　White　House　were　as　numerous　as　shotguns　during　duck　season；　and　there　was　no　bag　limit　here。
　
　Christ；　Oleg！〃　It　took　a　lot　to　make　Reilly　gasp；　but　this　one　crossed　the　threshold。　〃Are　you　serious？〃
　〃So　it　would　appear；　Mishka；〃　Provalov　answered。
　〃And　why　are　you　telling　me？〃　the　American　asked。　Information　like　this　was　a　state　secret　equivalent　to　the　inner　thoughts　of　President　Grushavoy。
　〃There　is　no　hiding　it　from　you。　I　assume　you　tell　everything　we　do　together　to　Washington；　and　it　was　you　who　identified　the　Chinese　diplomat；　for　which　I　and　my　country　are　in　your　debt。〃
　The　amusing　part　of　that　was　that　Reilly　had　darted　off　to　track　Suvorov/Koniev　without　a　thought；　just　as　a　cop　thing；　to　help　out　a　brother　cop。　Only　afterward…about　a　nanosecond　afterward；　of　course…had　he　thought　of　the　political　implications。　And　he'd　thought　this　far　ahead；　but　only　as　speculation；　not　quite　believing　that　it　could　possibly　have　gone　this　far　forward。
　〃Well；　yes；　I　have　to　keep　the　Bureau　informed　of　my　operations　here；〃　the　legal　attache　admitted；　not　that　it　was　an　earthshaking　revelation。
　〃I　know　that；　Mishka。〃
　〃The　Chinese　wanted　to　kill　Golovko；〃　Reilly　whispered　into　his　vodka。　〃Fuck。〃
　〃My　word　exactly；〃　Provalov　told　his　American　friend。　〃The　question　is…〃
　〃Two　questions；　Oleg。　First；　why？　Second；　now　what？〃
　〃Third；　who　is　Suvorov；　and　what　is　he　up　to？〃
　Which　was　obvious；　Reilly　thought。　Was　Suvorov　merely　a　paid　agent　of　a　foreign　country？　Or　was　he　part　of　the　KGB　wing　of　the　Russian　Mafia　being　paid　by　the　Chinese　to　do　something…but　what；　and　to　what　purpose？
　〃You　know；　I've　been　hunting　OC　guys　for　a　long　time；　but　it　never　got　anywhere　near　this　big。　This　is　right　up　there　with　all　those　bullshit　stories　about　who　'really'　killed　Kennedy。〃
　Provalov's　eyes　looked　up。　〃You're　not　saying　。。。〃
　〃No；　Oleg。　The　Mafia　isn't　that　crazy。　You　don't　go　around　looking　to　make　enemies　that　big。　You　can't　predict　the　consequences；　and　it　isn't　good　for　business。　The　Mafia　is　a　business；　Oleg。　They　try　to　make　money　for　themselves。　Even　their　political　protection　is　aimed　only　at　that；　and　that　has　limits；　and　they　know　what　the　limits　are。〃
　〃So；　if　Suvorov　is　Mafia；　then　he　is　only　trying　to　make　money？〃
　〃Here　it's　a　little　different；〃　Reilly　said　slowly；　trying　to　help　his　brain　keep　up　with　his　mouth。　〃Here　your　OC　guys　think　more　politically　than　they　do　in　New　York。〃　And　the　reason　for　that　was　that　the　KGB　types　had　all　grown　up　in　an　intensely　political　environment。　Here　politics　really　was　power　in　a　more　direct　sense　than　it　had　ever　been　in　America；　where　politics　and　merce　had　always　been　somewhat　separate；　the　former　protecting　the　latter　（for　a　fee）　but　also　controlled　by　it。　Here　it　had　always　been；　and　still　remained；　the　other　way　around。　Business　needed　to　rule　politics　because　business　was　the　source　of　prosperity；　from　which　the　citizens　of　a　country　derived　their　forts。　Russia　had　never　prospered；　because　the　cart　kept　trying　to　pull　the　horse。　The　recipient　of　the　wealth　had　always　tried　to　generate　that　wealth…　and　political　figures　are　always　pretty　hopeless　in　that　department。　They　are　only　good　at　squandering　it。　Politicians　live　by　their　political　theories。　Businessmen　use　reality　and　have　to　perform　in　a　world　defined　by　reality；　not　theory。　That　was　why　even　in　America　they　understood　one　another　poorly；　and　never　really　trusted　one　another。
　〃What　makes　Golovko　a　target？　What's　the　profit　in　killing　him？〃　Reilly　asked　aloud。
　〃He　is　the　chief　adviser　to　President　Grushavoy。　He's　never　wanted　to　be　an　elected　official；　and　therefore　cannot　be　a　minister　per　se；　but　he　has　the　president's　ear　because　he　is　both　intelligent　and　honest…and　he's　a　patriot　in　the　true　sense。〃
　Despite　his　background；　Reilly　didn't　add。　Golovko　was　KGB；　formerly　a　deadly　enemy　to　the　West；　and　an　enemy　to　President　Ryan；　but　somewhere