tc.redrabbit-第124部分

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　　　The　next　boxes　were　heavier　but　somehow　easier。　At　least　these　bodies　were　adults。　He　manhandled　them　onto　the　concrete　floor　of　the　cellar　and　left　them　there；　then　moved　the　dry　ice　to　the　opposite　corner；　where　the　frozen　CO2　would　evaporate　on　its　own　without　causing　harm　or　distraction　to　anyone。　The　bodies　would　have　about　fourteen　hours　to　thaw　out；　and　that；　he　hoped；　would　be　enough。　Trent　left　the　basement；　being　careful　to　lock　the　door。
　　　Then　he　went　to　the　embassy's　security　office。　The　British　legation　had　its　own　security　detail　of　three　men；　all　of　them　former　enlisted　servicemen。　He'd　need　two　of　them　tonight。　Both　were　former　sergeants　in　the　British　army；　Rodney　Truelove　and　Bob　Small；　and　both　were　physically　fit。
　　　〃Lads；　I　need　your　help　tonight　with　something。〃
　　　〃What's　that；　Tom？〃　Truelove　asked。
　　　〃We'll　just　need　to　move　some　objects；　and　do　it　rather　covertly；〃　Trent　semi…explained。　He　didn't　bother　telling　them　it　would　be　something　of　great　importance。　These　were　men　for　whom　everything　was　treated　as　a　matter　of　some　importance。
　　　〃Sneak　in　and　sneak　out？〃　Small　asked。
　　　〃Correct；〃　Trent　confirmed　to　the　former　color　sergeant　in　the　Royal　Engineers。　Small　was　from　the　Royal　Regiment　of　Wales；　the　men　of　Harlech。
　　　〃What　time？〃　Truelove　inquired　next。
　　　〃We'll　leave　here　about　oh…two…hundred。　Ought　not　to　take　more　than　an　hour　overall。〃
　　　〃Dress？〃　This　was　Bob　Small。
　　　And　that　was　a　good　question。　To　wear　coats　and　ties　didn't　feel　right；　but　to　wear　coveralls　would　be　something　a　casual　observer　might　notice。　They'd　have　to　dress　in　such　a　way　as　to　be　invisible。
　　　〃Casual；〃　Trent　decided。　〃Jackets　but　no　coats。　Like　a　local。　Shirts　and　pants；　that　should　be　sufficient。　Gloves；　too。〃　Yeah；　they'll　surely　want　to　wear　gloves；　the　spook　thought。
　　　〃No　problem　with　us；〃　Truelove　concluded。　As　soldiers；　they　were　accustomed　to　doing　things　that　made　no　sense　and　taking　life　as　it　came。　Trent　hoped　they'd　feel　that　way　the　following　morning。
　　　Fogal　pantyhose　were　French　in　origin。　The　packaging　proclaimed　that。　Irina　nearly　fainted；　holding　the　package　in　her　hand。　The　contents　were　real　but　seemed　not　to　be；　so　sheer　as　to　be　a　manufactured　shadow　and　no　more　substantial　than　that。　She'd　heard　about　these　things；　but　she'd　never　held　them　in　her　hand；　much　less　worn　any。　And　to　think　that　any　woman　in　the　West　could　own　as　many　as　she　needed。　The　wives　of　Oleg's　Russian　colleagues　would　swoon　wearing　them；　and　how　envious　her　own　friends　at　GUM　would　be！　And　how　careful　they'd　be　putting　them　on；　afraid　to　create　a　run；　careful　not　to　blunder　into　things　with　their　legs；　like　children　who　bruised　every　single　day。　These　hose　were　far　too　precious　to　endanger。　She　had　to　get　the　right　size　for　the　women　on　Oleg's　list。。。　plus　six　pairs　for　herself。
　　　But　what　size？　To　buy　any　article　of　clothing　that　was　too　large　was　a　deadly　insult　to　a　woman　in　any　culture；　even　Russia；　where　women　tended　more　to　the　Rubenesque　than　to　a　starving　waif　in　the　Third　World。。。　or　Hollywood。　The　sizes　shown　on　the　packages　were　A；　B；　C；　and　D。　This　was　an　additional　plication；　since　in　Cyrillic；　〃B〃　corresponded　to　the　Roman　〃V〃　and　〃C〃　to　〃S；〃　but　she　took　a　deep　breath　and　bought　a　total　of　twenty　pairs　of　size　C；　including　the　six　for　herself。　They　were　hideously　expensive；　but　the　econ　rubles　in　her　purse　were　not　all　hers；　and　so　with　another　deep　breath　she　paid　cash　for　the　collection；　to　the　smile　of　the　female　salesclerk；　who　could　guess　what　was　going　on。　Walking　out　of　the　store　with　such　luxuries　made　her　feel　like　a　czarist　princess；　a　good　sensation　for　any　female　in　the　world。　She　now　had　489　rubles　left　to　spend　on　herself；　and　that　almost　produced　a　panic。　So　many　nice　things。　So　little　money。　So　little　closet　space　at　home。
　　　Shoes？　A　new　coat？　A　new　handbag？
　　　She　left　out　jewelry；　since　that　was　Oleg's　job；　but；　like　most　men；　he　didn't　know　a　thing　about　what　women　wore。
　　　What　about　foundation　garments？　Irina　wondered　next。　A　Chantarelle　brassiere？　Did　she　dare　purchase　something　that　elegant？　That　was　at　least　a　hundred　rubles；　even　at　this　favorable　exchange　rate。。。　And　it　would　be　something　only　she　knew　she　had　on。　Such　a　brassiere　would　feel　like。。。　hands。　Like　the　hands　of　your　lover。　Yes；　she　had　to　get　one　of　those。
　　　And　cosmetics。　She　had　to　get　cosmetics。　It　was　the　one　thing　Russian　women　always　paid　attention　to。　She　was　in　the　right　city　for　that。　Hungarian　women　cared　about　skin　care　as　well。　She'd　go　to　a　good　store　and　ask；　rade　to　rade。　Hungarian　women…their　faces　proclaimed　to　the　world　that　they　cared　about　their　skin。　In　this　the　Hungarians　were　most　kulturniy。
　　　It　took　another　two　hours　of　utter　bliss；　so　pleasant　that　she　didn't　even　notice　her　husband　and　daughter　waiting　about。　She　was　living　every　Soviet　woman's　dream；　spending　money　in…well；　if　not　the　West；　then　the　next　best　thing。　And　it　was　wonderful。　She'd　wear　the　Chantarelle　to　the　concert　tonight；　listen　to　Bach；　and　pretend　she　was　in　another　time　and　another　place；　where　everyone　was　kulturniy　and　it　was　a　good　thing　to　be　a　woman。　It　was　a　pity　that　no　such　place　existed　in　the　Soviet　Union。
　　　Outside　the　succession　of　women's　stores；　Oleg　just　stood　around　and　smoked　his　cigarettes　like　any　other　man　in　the　world；　intensely　bored　by　the　details　of　women's　shopping。　How　they　could　enjoy　the　process　of　picking　and　paring；　picking　and　paring；　never　making　a　decision；　just　sucking　in　the　ambience　of　being　surrounded　by　things　they　couldn't　wear　and　didn't　really　like？　They　always　took　the　dress　and　held　it　up　to　their　necks　and　looked　in　a　mirror　and　decided　nyet；　not　this　one。　On　and　on　and　on；　past　the　sunset　and　into　the　night；　as　though　their　very　souls　depended　on　it。　Oleg　had　learned　patience　with　his　current　life…threatening　adventure；　but　one　thing　he'd　never　learned；　and　never　expected　to　learn；　was　how　to　watch　a　woman　shop。。。　without　wishing　to　throttle　her。　Just　standing　there　like　a　fucking　beast　of　burden；　holding　the　things　she'd　finally　decided　to　purchase…then　waiting　while　she　decided　to　change　her　mind　or　not。　Well；　it　couldn't　last　forever。　They　did　have　tickets　to　the　concert　that　night。　They　had　to　go　back　to　the　hotel；　try　to　get　a　sitter　for　zaichik；　get　dressed；　and　go　to　the　concert　hall。　Even　Irina　would　appreciate　that。
　　　Probably；　Oleg　Ivan'ch　thought　bleakly。　As　though　he　didn't　have　enough　to　worry　about。　But　his　little　girl　wasn't　concerned　about　a　thing；　Oleg　saw。　She　ate　her　ice　cream　and　looked　around　at　this　different　place　with　its　different　sights。　There　was　much　to　be　said　for　a　child's　innocence。　A　pity　one　lost　it…and　why；　then；　did　children　try　so　hard　to　grow　up　and　leave　their　innocence　behind？　Didn't　they　know　how　wonderful　the　world　was　for　them　alone？　Didn't　they　know　that；　with　understanding；　the　wonders　of　the　world　only　became　burdens？　And　pain。
　　　And　doubts；　Zaitzev　thought。　So　many　doubts。
　　　But　no；　zaichik　didn't　know　that；　and　by　the　time　she　found　out；　it　would　be　too　late。
　　　Finally；　Irina　walked　outside；　with　a　beaming　smile　such　as　she'd　not　had　since　delivering　their　daughter。　Then　she　really　surprised　him…she　came　up　to　him　for　a　hug　and　a　kiss。
　　　〃Oh；　Oleg；　you　are　so　good　to　me！〃　And　another　passionate　kiss　of　a　woman　sated　by　shopping。　Even　better　than　one　sated　by　sex；　her　husband　suddenly　thought。
　　　〃Back　to　the　hotel；　my　dear。　We　must　dress　for　the　concert。〃　The　easy　part　was　the　ride　on　the　metro；　then　into　the　Astoria　and　up　to　Room　307。　Once　there；　they　decided　more　or　less　by　default　to　take　Svetlana　with　them。　Getting　a　sitter　would　have　been　an　inconvenience…Oleg　had　thought　about　a　female　KGB　officer　from　the　Culture　and　Friendship　House　across　the　street；　but　neither　he　nor　his　wife　felt　fortable　with　such　arrangements；　and　so　zaichik　would　have　to　behave　herself　during　the　concert。　His　tickets　were　in　the　room；　Orchestra　Row　6；　seats　A；　B；　and　C；　which　put　him　right　on　the　aisle；　where　he　preferred　to　be。　Svetlana　would　wear　her　new　clothes　this　evening；　which；　he　hoped；　would　make　her　happy。　It　usually　did；　and　these　were　the　best　clothes　she'd　ever　had。
　　　The　bathroom　was　crowded　in　th