tc.redstormrising-第22部分

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ded　he　probably　wouldn't。

MOSCOW；　R。S。F。S。R。
The　Revolution　has　e　to　this；　he　thought。　Sergetov　was　staring　into　the　rubble。　The　sun　was　still　high；　even　this　late　in　the　afternoon。　The　firefighters　and　soldiers　were　almost　finished　sorting　through　the　wreckage；　heaving　the　loose　pieces　into　trucks　a　few　meters　from　where　he　stood。　There　was　dust　on　his　suit。　I'll　have　to　have　it　cleaned；　he　thought；　watching　the　seventh　small　body　being　lifted　with　a　gentleness　all　too　late　and　obscenely　out　of　place。　One　more　child　was　still　unaccounted　for；　and　there　was　still　some　lingering　hope。　A　uniformed　Army　medic　stood　nearby；　unwrapped　dressings　in　his　quivering　hands。　To　his　left　a　major　of　infantry　was　weeping　with　rage。　A　man　with　a　family；　no　doubt。
The　television　cameras　were　there；　of　course。　A　lesson　learned　from　the　American　media；　Sergetov　thought；　the　crews　poking　their　way　into　the　action　to　record　every　horrible　scene　for　the　evening　news。　He　was　surprised　to　see　an　American　crew　with　their　Soviet　counterparts。　So；　we　have　made　mass　murder　an　international　spectator　sport。
Sergetov　was　far　too　angry　for　visible　emotion。　That　could　have　been　me；　he　thought。　I　always　show　up　early　for　the　Thursday　meetings。　Everyone　knows　it。　The　guards；　the　clerical　staff；　and　certainly　my　rades　on　the　Politburo。　So　this　is　the　penultimate　segment　of　the　maskirovka。　To　motivate；　to　lead　our　people；　we　must　do　this。　Was　there　supposed　to　be　a　Politburo　member　in　the　rubble？　he　wondered。　A　junior　member；　of　course。
Surely　I　am　wrong；　Sergetov　told　himself。　One　part　of　his　mind　examined　the　question　with　chilling　objectivity　while　another　considered　his　personal　friendships　with　some　of　the　senior　Politburo　members。　He　didn't　know　what　to　think。　An　odd　position　for　a　leader　of　the　Party。

NORFOLK；　VIRGINIA
〃I　am　Gerhardt　Falken；〃　the　man　said。　〃I　entered　the　Soviet　Union　six　days　ago　through　the　port　of　Odessa。　I　have　been　for　ten　years　an　agent　of　the　Bundesnachrichtendienst；　the　intelligence　apparat　of　the　government　of　West　Germany。　My　assignment　was　to　kill　the　Politburo　at　its　Thursday…morning　session　by　means　of　a　bomb　placed　in　a　storage　room　directly　beneath　the　fourth…floor　conference　room　in　which　they　meet。〃　Lowe　and　Toland　watched　their　televisions　in　total　fascination。　It　was　perfect。　〃Falken〃　spoke　perfect　Russian；　with　the　precise　syntax　and　diction　that　schoolteachers　in　the　Soviet　Union　sought　to　achieve。　His　accent　was　that　of　Leningrad。
〃I　have　run　an　import…export　business　in　Bremen　for　many　years；　and　I　have　specialized　in　trade　with　the　Soviet　Union。　I　have　traveled　into　the　Soviet　Union　many　times；　and　on　many　of　these　occasions　I　have　used　my　business　identity　to　run　agents　whose　mission　was　to　weaken　and　spy　upon　the　Soviet　Party　and　military　infrastructures。〃
The　camera　closed　in。　〃Falken〃　was　reading　in　a　monotone　from　a　script；　his　eyes　seldom　rising　to　the　cameras。　Behind　the　glasses　on　one　side　was　a　large　bruise。　His　hands　shook　slightly　when　he　changed　pages　of　the　script。
〃Looks　like　they　beat　up　on　him　some；〃　Lowe　observed。
〃Interesting；〃　Toland　replied。　〃They're　letting　us　know　that　they　work　people　over。〃
Lowe　snorted。　〃A　guy　who　blows　little　kids　up？　You　can　burn　the　bastard　at　the　stake；　and　who'll　give　a　good　Goddamn？　Some　serious　thought　went　into　this；　my　friend。〃
〃I　wish　to　make　it　clear；〃　Falken　went　on　in　a　firmer　voice；　〃that　I　had　no　intention　of　injuring　children。　The　Politburo　was　a　legitimate　political　target；　but　my　country　does　not　make　war　on　children。〃
A　howl　of　disgust　came　from　off…camera。　As　though　on　cue；　the　camera　backed　away　to　reveal　a　pair　of　uniformed　KGB　officers　flanking　the　speaker；　their　faces　impassive。　The　audience　was　posed　of　about　twenty　people　in　civilian　clothes。
〃Why　did　you　e　into　our　country？〃　demanded　one　of　them。
〃I　have　told　you　this。〃
〃Why　does　your　country　wish　to　kill　the　leaders　of　our　Soviet　Party？〃
〃I　am　a　spy；〃　Falken　replied。　〃I　carry　out　assignments。　I　do　not　ask　such　questions。　I　follow　my　orders。〃
〃How　were　you　captured？〃
〃I　was　arrested　at　the　Kiev　Railroad　Station。　How　I　was　caught　they　have　not　told　me。〃
〃Cute；〃　Lowe　mented。
〃He　called　himself　a　spy；〃　Toland　objected。　〃You　don't　say　that。　You　call　yourself　an　'officer。'　An　'agent'　is　a　foreigner　who　works　for　you；　and　a　'spy'　is　a　bad　guy。　They　use　the　same　terms　that　we　do。〃
The　CIA/DIA　report　arrived　on　the　telex　printer　an　hour　later。　Gerhardt　Eugen　Falken。　Age　forty…four。　Born　in　Bonn。　Educated　in　public　schools；　good　marks　on　his　records…but　his　picture　was　missing　from　his　high　school　yearbook。　Military　service　as　a　draftee　in　a　transport　battalion　whose　records　had　been　destroyed　in　a　barracks　fire　twelve　years　before；　honorable　discharge　found　in　his　personal　effects。　University　degree　in　liberal　arts；　good　marks；　but　again　no　picture；　and　three　professors　who　gave　him　B　grades　can't　seem　to　recall　him。　A　small　import…export　business。　Where　did　the　money　e　from　to　start　it？　Nobody　could　answer　that　one。　Lived　in　Bremen　quietly；　modestly；　and　alone。　Friendly　man；　after　a　fashion。　Always　nodded　to　his　neighbors；　but　never　socialized　with　them。　A　good…〃very　correct；〃　his　elderly　secretary　said…boss　to　his　employees。　Traveled　a　lot。　In　short；　many　people　knew　he　existed；　quite　a　few　did　business　with　his　firm；　but　nobody　really　knew　a　thing　about　him。
〃I　can　hear　the　papers　now：　this　guy　has　'Agency'　written　all　over　him。〃　Toland　tore　off　the　printer　paper　and　tucked　it　into　a　folder。　He　had　to　brief　CINCLANT　in　half　an　hour…and　tell　him　what？　Toland　wondered。
〃Tell　him　the　Germans　are　going　to　attack　Russia。　Who　knows；　maybe　this　time　they'll　take　Moscow；〃　Lowe　mused。
〃Goddamn　it；　Chuck！〃
〃Okay；　maybe　just　an　operation　to　cripple　the　Russians　so　that　they　can　reunite　Germany　once　and　for　all。　That's　what　Ivan　is　saying；　Bob。〃　Lowe　looked　out　the　window。　〃What　we　have　here　is　a　classic　intelligence　op。　This　guy　Falken　is　a　stone　spook。　No　way　in　hell　we　can　tell　who　he　is；　where　he　es　from；　or；　of　course；　who　he's　working　for；　unless　something　big　breaks；　and　I'll　wager　you　that　it　doesn't。　We　know　…we　think…that　the　Germans　aren't　this　crazy；　but　the　only　evidence　there　is　points　to　them。　Tell　the　Admiral　something　bad　is　happening。〃
Toland　did　precisely　that；　only　to　have　his　head　nearly　taken　off　by　a　senior　man　who　wanted　and　needed　hard　information。

KIEV；　THE　UKRAINE
〃rades；　we　will　mence　offensive　operations　against　the　NATO　land　forces　in　two　weeks；〃　Alekseyev　began。　He　explained　the　reasons　for　this。　The　assembled　corps　and　division　manders　accepted　the　information　impassively。　〃The　danger　to　the　State　is　as　great　as　anything　we've　had　to　face　in　over　forty　years。　We　have　used　the　past　four　months　to　whip　our　Army　into　shape。　You　and　your　subordinates　have　responded　well　to　our　demands；　and　I　can　only　say　that　I　am　proud　to　have　served　with　you。
〃I　will　leave　the　usual　Party　harangue　to　your　group　political　officers。〃　Alekseyev　ventured　a　single　smile　in　his　delivery。　〃We　are　the　professional　officers　of　the　Soviet　Army。　We　know　what　our　task　is。　We　know　why　we　have　it。　The　life　of　the　Rodina　depends　on　our　ability　to　carry　out　our　mission。　Nothing　else　matters；〃　he　concluded。　The　hell　it　doesn't　。　。　。

11　…　Order　of　Battle

SHPOLA；　THE　UKRAINE
〃You　may　proceed；　rade　Colonel；〃　Alekseyev　said　over　his　radio　circuit。　He　didn't　say；　Make　a　fool　of　me　now　and　you　will　be　counting　trees！　The　General　stood　on　a　hill　five　hundred　meters　west　of　the　regimental　mand　post。　With　him　was　his　aide；　and　Politburo　member　Mikhail　Sergetov。　As　if　I　need　that　distraction；　the　General　thought　bleakly。
First　the　guns。　They　saw　the　flashes　long　before　they　heard　the　rolling　thunder　of　the　reports。　Fired　from　behind　another　hill　three　kilometers　away；　the　shells　arced　through　the　sky　to　their　left；　cutting　through　the　air　with　a　sound　like　the　ripping　of　linen。　The　Party　man　cringed　at　the　noise；　Alekseyev　noted；　another　soft　civilian
〃I　never　did　like　that　sound；〃　Sergetov　said　shortly。
〃Heard　it　before；　rade　Minister？〃　the　General　asked　solicitously。
〃I　served　my　four　years　in　a　motor…rifle　regiment；〃　he　replied。　〃And　I　never　learned　to　trust　my　rades　at　the　artillery　plotting　tables。　Foolish；　I　know。　Excuse　me；　General。〃
Next　came　the　tank　guns。　They　watched　through　binoculars　as　the　big　main　battle　tanks　emerged　from　the　woods　like　something　from　a　nightmare；　their　long　cannon　belching　flame　as　they　glided　across　the　rolling　ground　of　the　exercise　area。　Interspersed　with　the　tanks　were　the　infantry　fighting　vehicles。　Then　came　the　armed　helicopters；　swooping　at　the　objective　from　left　and　right；　firing　their　guided　missiles　at　the　mockups　of　bunkers　and　armored　vehicles。
By　this　time　the　hilltop　objective　was　nearly　hidden　by　explosions　and　flying　dirt　as　the　artillery　fire　marched　back　and　forth　across　it。　Alekseyev's　trained　eye　evaluated　the　exercise　closely。　Anyone　on　that　hilltop　would　be　having　a　very　hard　time。　Even　in　a　small；　deep；　protective　hole；　even　in　a　defiladed　tank；　that　artillery　fire　would　be　terrifying；　enough　to　distract　the　guided…weapons　crews；　enough　to　rattle　munications　men；　perhaps　enough　to　impede　the　officers　there。　Perhaps。　But　what　of　return　fire　from　enemy　artillery？　What　of　antitank　helicopters　and　aircraft　that　could　sweep　over　the　advancing　tank　battalions？　So　many　unknowns　in　battle。　So　many　imponderables。　So　many　reasons　to　gamble；　and　so　many　reasons　not　to。　What　if　there　were　Germans　on　that　hill？　Did　the　Germans　get　rattled…even　in　1945　at　the　gates　of　Berlin；　had　Germans　ever　been　rattled？
It　took　twelve　minutes　before　the　tanks　and　infantry　carriers　were　atop　the　hill。　The　exercise　was　over。
〃Nicely　done；　rade　General。〃　Sergetov　removed　his　ear　protectors。　It　was　good；　to　be　away　from　Moscow；　he　thought；　even　for　a　few　hours。　Why；　he　wondered；　did　he　feel　more　at　home　here　than　in　his　chosen　place？　Was　it　this　man？　〃As　I　recall；　the　standard　for　this　particular　drill　is　fourteen　minutes。　The　tanks　and　infantry　vehicles　cooperated　well。　I've　never　seen　the　use　of　armed　helicopters；　but　that　too　was　impressive。〃
〃The　greatest　improvement　was　the　coordination　of　artillery　fire　and　infantry　in　the　final　assault　phase。　Before；　they　fai