tc.redrabbit-第133部分

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science　of　medicine　in　the　nineteenth　century；　it　remained　a　good　one；　even　attracting　students　from　West　Germany；　none　of　whom　would　attend　the　postmortem　examinations　ordered　by　the　country's　Belugyminiszterium；　which　would　also　be　attended　by　the　physician…in…residence　at　the　Soviet　Embassy。
　　　The　first　done　would　be　the　adult　male。　Technicians　took　blood　samples　from　all　three　bodies　for　analysis　in　the　adjacent　laboratory。
　　　〃This　is　the　body　of　a　male　Caucasian；　approximately　thirty…five　years　of　age；　length　approximately　one　hundred　seventy…five　centimeters；　weight　approximately　seventy…six　kilograms。　Color　of　hair　cannot　be　determined　due　to　extensive　charring　from　a　domestic　fire。　Initial　impression　is　death　by　fire…more　probably　from　carbon　monoxide　intoxication；　as　the　body　shows　no　evidence　of　death　throes。〃　Then　the　dissection　began　with　the　classical　Y　incision　to　open　the　body　cavity　for　viewing　of　the　internal　organs。
　　　He　was　examining　the　heart…unremarkable…when　the　lab　reports　came　in。
　　　〃Professor　Biro；　carbon　monoxide　in　all　three　blood　samples　are　well　into　lethal　range；〃　the　voice　on　the　speaker　said；　giving　the　exact　numbers。
　　　Biro　looked　over　at　his　Russian　colleague。　〃Anything　else　you　need？　I　can　do　a　full　postmortem　on　all　three　victims　here；　but　the　cause　of　death　is　determined。　This　man　was　not　shot。　We　will　do　fuller　blood…chemistry　checks；　of　course；　but　it's　unlikely　that　they　were　poisoned；　and　there　is　clearly　no　bullet　wound　or　other　penetrating　trauma　in　this　man。　They　were　all　killed　by　fire。　I　will　send　you　the　full　laboratory　report　this　afternoon。〃　Biro　let　out　a　long　breath。　〃A　kurva　eletbe！〃　he　concluded　with　a　popular　Magyar　epithet。
　　　〃Such　a　pretty　little　girl；〃　the　Russian　internist　observed。　Zaitzev's　wallet　had　somehow　survived　the　fire；　along　with　its　family　photos。　The　picture　of　Svetlana　had　been　particularly　engaging。
　　　〃Death　is　never　sentimental；　my　friend；〃　Biro　told　him。　As　a　pathologist；　he　knew　that　fact　all　too　well。
　　　〃Very　well。　Thank　you；　rade　Professor。〃　And　the　Russian　took　his　leave；　already　thinking　through　his　official　report　to　Moscow。
　　　
　　　CHAPTER　29　…　REVELATION
　　　The　safe　house　was　palatial；　the　country　home　of　somebody　with　both　money　and　taste；　built　in　the　previous　century　by　the　look　of　it；　with　stucco　and　the　sort　of　heavy　oaken　timbers　used　to　build　ships　like　HMS
　　　Victory　once　upon　a　time。　But　landlocked；　it　was　about　as　far　from　blue　water　as　one　could　get　on　this　island　kingdom。
　　　Evidently；　Alan　Kingshot　knew　it　well　enough；　since　he　drove　them　there　and　then　got　them　settled　inside。　The　two…person　staff　that　ran　the　place　looked　like　cops　to　Ryan；　probably　married　and　retired　from　the　Police　Force　of　the　Metropolis；　as　the　London　Constabulary　was　officially　known。　They　kindly　escorted　their　new　guests　to　a　rather　nice　suite　of　rooms。　Irina　Zaitzev's　eyes　were　agog　at　the　acmodations；　which　were　impressive　even　by　Ryan's　standards。　All　Oleg　Ivanovich　did　was　set　his　shaving　kit　in　the　bathroom；　strip　off　his　clothes；　and　collapse　onto　the　bed；　where　alcohol…aided　sleep　proved　to　be　less　than　five　minutes　away。
　　　Word　got　TO　Judge　Moore　just　before　midnight　that　the　package　was　safely　ensconced　in　a　very　secure　location；　and　with　that　information　he　also　went　to　bed。　All　that　remained　was　to　tell　the　Air　Force　to　get　a　KC…135　or　a　similar　aircraft　ready　to　fly　the　package　home；　and　that　would　take　a　mere　telephone　call　to　an　officer　in　the　Pentagon。　He　wondered　what　the　Rabbit　would　say；　but　he　could　wait　for　that。　Patience；　once　the　dangerous　stuff　was　behind；　was　not　all　that　difficult　for　the　Director　of　Central　Intelligence。　It　was　like　Christmas　Eve；　and　while　he　wasn't　exactly　sure　what　would　be　under　the　tree；　he　could　be　confident　that　it　wouldn't　be　anything　bad。
　　　For　Sir　Basil　Charleston　at　his　Belgravia　house；　the　news　came　before　breakfast；　when　a　messenger　from　Century　House　arrived　with　the　word。　An　altogether　pleasant　way　to　start　a　working　day；　he　thought；　certainly　better　than　some　others　he'd　had。　He　left　home　for　the　office　just　before　seven　A。M。；　ready　for　his　morning　brief　to　outline　the　success　of　Operation　BEATRIX。
　　　Ryan　was　awakened　by　traffic　noise。　Whoever　had　built　this　magnificent　country　home　hadn't　anticipated　the　construction　of　a　motorway　just　three　hundred　yards　away；　but　somehow　Ryan　had　avoided　a　hangover　from　all　the　drinks　on　the　flight　in；　and　the　lingering　excitement　of　the　moment　had　gotten　him　fully　awake　after　a　mere　six　and　a　half　hours　of　slumber。　He　washed　up　and　made　his　way　to　the　pleasant　not…so…little　breakfast　room。　Alan　Kingshot　was　there；　working　on　his　morning　tea。
　　　〃Probably　coffee　for　you；　eh？〃
　　　〃If　you　have　any。〃
　　　〃Only　instant；〃　Kingshot　warned。
　　　Jack　stifled　his　disappointment。　〃Better　than　no　coffee　at　all。〃
　　　〃Eggs　Benedict？〃　the　retired　woman　cop　asked。
　　　〃Ma'am；　for　that　I　will　forgive　the　absence　of　Starbucks；〃　Jack　replied；　with　a　smile。　Then　he　saw　the　morning　papers；　and　he　thought　that　reality　and　normality　had　finally　returned　to　his　life。　Well；　almost。
　　　〃Mr。　and　Mrs。　Thompson　run　this　house　for　us；〃　Kingshot　explained。　〃Nick　was　a　homicide　detective　with　the　Yard；　and　Emma　was　in　administration。〃
　　　〃That's　what　my　dad　used　to　do；〃　Ryan　observed。　〃How　did　you　guys　get　working　for　SIS？〃
　　　〃Nick　worked　on　the　Markov　case；〃　Mrs。　Thompson　answered。
　　　〃And　did　a　damned　good　job　of　it；　too；〃　Kingshot　told　Ryan。　〃He　would　have　been　a　fine　field　officer　for　us。〃
　　　〃Bond；　James　Bond？〃　Nick　Thompson　said；　walking　into　the　kitchen。　〃I　think　not。　Our　guests　are　moving　about。　It　sounds　as　though　the　little　girl　got　them　up。〃
　　　〃Yeah；〃　Jack　observed。　〃Kids　will　do　that。　So；　we　do　the　debrief　here　or　somewhere　else？〃
　　　〃We　were　planning　to　do　it　in　Somerset；　but　I　decided　last　night　not　to　drive　them　around　too　much。　Why　stress　them　out？〃　Kingshot　asked　rhetorically。　〃We　just　took　title　to　this　house　last　year；　and　it's　as　fortable　a　place　as　any。　The　one　in　Somerset…near　Taunton…is　a　touch　more　isolated；　but　these　people　ought　not　to　bolt；　you　think？〃
　　　〃If　he　goes　home；　he's　one　dead　Rabbit；〃　Ryan　thought　out　loud。　〃He　has　to　know　that。　On　the　plane；　he　was　worried　that　we　were　KGB　and　this　was　all　an　elaborate　maskirovka　setup；　I　think。　His　wife　did　a　lot　of　shopping　in　Budapest。　Maybe　we　have　somebody　take　her　shopping　around　here？〃　the　American　wondered。　〃Then　we　can　talk　to　him　in　fort。　His　English　seems　okay。　Do　we　have　anybody　here　with　good　Russian？〃
　　　〃My　job；〃　Kingshot　told　Ryan。
　　　〃First　thing　we　want　to　know；　why　the　hell　did　he　decide　to　skip　town？〃
　　　〃Obviously；　but　then；　what's　all　this　lot　about　promised　munications？〃
　　　〃Yeah。〃　Ryan　took　a　deep　breath。　〃I　imagine　people　are　jumping　out　windows　about　that　one。〃
　　　〃Too　bloody　right；〃　Kingshot　confirmed。
　　　〃So；　Al；　you've　worked　Moscow？〃
　　　The　Brit　nodded。　〃Twice。　Good　sport　it　was；　but　rather　tense　the　whole　time　I　was　there。〃
　　　〃Where　else？〃
　　　〃Warsaw　and　Bucharest。　I　speak　all　the　languages。　Tell　me；　how　was　Andy　Hudson？〃
　　　〃He's　a　star；　Al。　Very　smooth　and　confident　all　the　way…knows　his　turf；　good　contacts。　He　took　pretty　good　care　of　me。〃
　　　〃Here's　your　coffee；　Sir　John；〃　Mrs。　Thompson　said；　bringing　his　cup　of　Taster's　Choice。　The　Brits　were　good　people；　and　their　food；　Ryan　thought；　was　wrongly　maligned；　but　they　didn't　know　beans　about　coffee；　and　that　was　that。　But　it　was　still　better　than　tea。
　　　The　Eggs　Benedict　arrived　shortly　thereafter；　and　at　that　dish；　Mrs。　Thompson　could　have　given　lessons。　Ryan　opened　his　paper…it　was　the　Times…and　relaxed　to　get　reacquainted　with　the　world。　He'd　call　Cathy　in　about　an　hour　when　he　was　at　work。　With　luck；　he　might　even　see　her　in　a　couple　days。　In　a　perfect　world；　he'd　have　a　copy　of　an　American　paper；　or　maybe　the　International　Tribune；　but　the　world　was　not　yet　perfect。　There　was　no　sense　asking　how　the　World　Series　was　going。　It　was　going　to　start　tomorrow；　wasn't　it？　How　good　were　the　Phillies　this　year？　Well；　as　usual；　you　played　the　games　to　find　out。
　　　〃So；　how　was　the　trip；　Jack？〃　Kingshot　asked。
　　　〃Alan；　those　field　officers　earn　every　nickel　they　make。　How　you　deal　with　the　constant