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y　Square；　with　all　its　traffic　and　the　statue　of　Iron　Feliks。　His　swivel　chair　was　fortable；　and　his　desk　had　three　telephones　because　the　Soviet　Union　had　somehow　failed　to　master　multiline　phones。　He　had　a　typewriter　of　his　own；　which　he　rarely　used；　preferring　to　have　a　secretary　e　in　from　the　executive　pool。　There　was　talk　that　Yuriy　Vladimirovich　used　one　of　them　for　something　other　than　taking　dicta　tion；　but　Rozhdestvenskiy　did　not　believe　it。　The　Chairman　was　too　much　of　an　aesthete　for　that。　Corruption　just　wasn't　his　way；　which　appealed　to　him。　It　was　hard　to　feel　loyal　to　a　man　such　as　Brezhnev。　Rozhdestvenskiy　took　the　Sword　and　Shield　motto　of　his　agency　seriously。　It　was　his　job　to　protect　his　country　and　its　people；　and　they　needed　protecting…sometimes　from　the　members　of　their　own　Politburo。
　　　But　why　did　they　need　protection　from　this　priest？　he　asked　himself。
　　　He　shook　his　head　and　applied　his　mind　to　the　exercise。　He　tended　to　think　with　his　eyes　open；　examining　his　thoughts　like　a　film　on　an　invisible　screen。
　　　The　first　consideration　was　the　nature　of　the　target。　The　Pope　seemed　to　be　a　tall　man　in　the　pictures；　and　he　usually　dressed　in　white。　One　could　scarcely　ask　for　a　finer　shooting　target　than　that。　He　rode　about　in　an　open　vehicle；　which　made　him　an　even　better　target；　because　it　drove　about　slowly；　so　that　the　faithful　could　see　him　well。
　　　But　who　would　be　the　shooter？　Not　a　KGB　officer。　Not　even　a　Soviet　citizen。　A　Russian　exile；　perhaps。　KGB　had　them　throughout　the　West；　many　of　them　sleeper　agents；　living　their　lives　and　awaiting　their　activation　calls。。。　But　the　problem　was；　so　many　of　them　went　native　and　ignored　their　activation　notices；　or　called　the　counterintelligence　service　in　their　country　of　residence。　Rozhdestvenskiy　didn't　like　that　sort　of　long…term　assignment。　It　was　too　easy　for　an　officer　to　forget　who　he　was　and　bee　what　his　cover　said　he　was　supposed　to　be。
　　　No；　the　shooter　had　to　be　an　outsider；　not　a　Russian　national；　not　a　non…Russian　former　Soviet　citizen；　not　even　a　foreigner　trained　by　KGB。　Best　of　all　would　be　a　renegade　priest　or　nun；　but　people　like　that　didn't　just　fall　into　your　lap；　except　in　Western　spy　fiction　and　TV　shows。　The　real　world　of　intelligence　operations　was　rarely　that　convenient。
　　　So；　what　sort　of　shooter　did　he　need？　A　non…Christian？　A　Jew？　A　Muslim？　An　atheist　would　be　too　easy　to　associate　with　the　Soviet　Union；　so　no；　not　one　of　those。　To　get　a　Jew　to　do　it…that　would　be　rich！　One　of　the　Chosen　People。　Best　of　all；　an　Israeli。　Israel　had　its　fair　share　of　religious　fanatics。　It　was　possible。。。　but　unlikely。　KGB　had　assets　in　Israel…many　of　the　Soviet　citizens　who　emigrated　there　were　KGB　sleepers…but　Israeli　counterintelligence　was　notoriously　efficient。　The　possibility　of　such　an　operation　being　blown　was　too　high；　and　this　was　one　operation　that　could　not　be　blown。　So　that　left　Jews　out。
　　　Maybe　a　madman　from　Northern　Ireland。　Certainly　the　Protestants　there　loathed　the　Catholic　Church；　and　one　of　their　chieftains…Rozhdestvenskiy　couldn't　remember　his　name；　but　he　looked　like　an　advertisement　for　a　brewery…had　said　he　wished　the　Pope　dead。　The　man　was　even　supposed　to　be　a　minister　himself。　But；　sadly；　such　people　hated　the　Soviet　Union　even　more；　because　their　IRA　adversaries　claimed　to　be　Marxists…something　Colonel　Rozhdestvenskiy　had　trouble　accepting。　If　they　were　truly　Marxists；　he　could　have　used　Party　discipline　to　get　one　of　them　to　undertake　the　operation。。。　but　no。　What　little　he　knew　of　Irish　terrorists　told　him　that　getting　one　to　put　Party　discipline　above　his　ethnic　beliefs　was　far　too　much　to　ask。　Attractive　as　it　might　be　in　a　theoretical　sense；　it　would　be　too　hard　to　arrange。
　　　That　left　Muslims。　A　lot　of　them　were　fanatics；　with　as　little　to　do　with　the　core　beliefs　of　their　religion　as　the　Pope　did　with　Karl　Marx。　Islam　was　just　too　big；　and　it　suffered　from　the　diseases　of　bigness。　But　if　he　wanted　a　Muslim；　where　to　get　him？　KGB　did　have　operations　in　many　countries；　with　Islamic　populations；　as　did　other　Marxist　nations。　Hmm；　he　thought；　that's　a　good　idea。　Most　of　the　Soviet　Union's　allies　had　intelligence　services；　and　most　of　them　were　under　KGB's　thumb。
　　　The　best　of　them　was　the　DDR's　Stasi；　superbly　operated　by　its　director；　Markus　Wolf。　But　there　were　few　Muslims　there。　The　Poles　were　good；　as　well；　but　there　was　no　way　he　would　use　them　for　this　operation。　The　Catholics　had　it　penetrated…and　that　meant　the　West　had　it　penetrated　as　well；　if　only　at　second　hand。　Hungary…no；　again　the　country　was　too　Catholic；　and　the　only　Muslims　there　were　foreigners　in　ideological　training　camps　for　terrorist　groups；　and　those　he　probably　ought　not　to　use。　The　same　was　true　of　the　Czechs。　Romania　was　not　regarded　as　a　true　Soviet　ally。　Its　ruler；　though　a　stern　munist；　played　too　much　like　the　gypsy　gangsters　native　to　his　country。　That　left。。。　Bulgaria。　Of　course。　Neighbor　to　Turkey；　and　Turkey　was　a　Muslim　country；　but　one　with　a　secularized　culture　and　a　lot　of　good　gangster　material。　And　the　Bulgars　had　a　lot　of　cross…border　contacts；　often　covered　as　smuggling　activity；　which　they　used　to　get　NATO　intelligence；　just　as　Goderenko　did　in　Rome。
　　　So；　they　would　use　the　rezident　in　Sofia　to　get　the　Bulgars　to　do　their　dirty　work。　They　had　a　debt　of　long　standing　to　KGB；　after　all。　Moscow　Centre　had　enabled　them　to　dispose　of　their　wayward　national　on　Westminster　Bridge　in　a　very　clever　operation　that　been　partially　blown　only　by　the　worst　case　of　bad　luck。
　　　But　there　was　a　lesson　in　that；　Colonel　Rozhdestvenskiy　reminded　himself。　Just　as　with　that　Mafia　killing；　the　operation　could　not　be　so　clever　as　to　point　directly　to　KGB。　No；　this　one　had　to　look　gangsterish　in　its　execution。　Even　then；　there　were　dangers。　Western　governments　would　have　their　suspicions…but　with　no　direct　or　even　indirect　connection　to　Dzerzhinskiy　Square；　they　would　not　be　able　to　talk　about　it　in　public。。。
　　　Would　that　be　good　enough？　he　asked　himself。
　　　The　Italians；　the　Americans；　and　the　British　would　all　wonder。　They　would　whisper；　and　perhaps　those　whispers　would　find　their　way　into　the　public　press。　Did　that　matter？
　　　It　depended　on　how　important　this　operation　was　to　Andropov　and　the　Politburo；　didn't　it？　There　would　be　risks；　but　in　the　great　political　reckoning；　you　weighed　the　risks　against　the　importance　of　the　mission。
　　　So　Station　Rome　would　be　the　reconnaissance　element。　Station　Sofia　would　contract　the　Bulgarians　to　hire　the　shooter…it　would　probably　have　to　be　done　with　a　pistol。　Getting　close　enough　to　use　a　knife　was　too　difficult　a　task　to　plan　for　seriously；　and　rifles　were　too　hard　to　conceal；　though　a　sub…machine　gun　was　always　the　weapon　of　choice　for　something　like　this。　And　the　shooter　would　not　even　be　a　citizen　of　a　socialist　country。　No；　they'd　get　one　from　a　NATO　country。　There　was　some　degree　of　plexity　here。　But　not　all　that　much。
　　　Rozhdestvenskiy　lit　up　another　cigarette　and　mentally　walked　back　and　forth　through　his　reasoning；　looking　for　errors；　looking　for　weaknesses。　There　were　some。　There　were　always　some。　The　real　problem　would　be　in　finding　a　good　Turk　to　do　the　shooting。　For　that　they　had　to　depend　on　the　Bulgars。　Just　how　good　were　their　clandestine　services？　Rozhdestvenskiy　had　never　worked　directly　with　them；　and　knew　them　only　by　reputation。　That　reputation　was　not　entirely　good。　They　reflected　their　government；　which　was　cruder　and　more　thuggish　than　Moscow；　not　very　kulturniy；　but　he　supposed　that　was　partly　Russian　chauvinism　on　the　KGB's　part。　Bulgaria　was　Moscow's　little　brother；　politically　and　culturally；　and　big　brother…little　brother　thinking　was　inescapable。　They　just　had　to　be　good　enough　to　have　decent　contacts　in　Turkey；　and　that　meant　just　one　good　intelligence　officer；　preferably　one　trained　in　Moscow。　There　would　be　a　lot　of　those；　and　KGB's　own　academy　would　have　the　necessary　records。　The　Sofia　rezident　might　even　know　him　personally。
　　　This　theoretical　exercise　was　shaping　up；　Colonel　Rozhdestvenskiy　thought　to　himself；　with　some　degree　of　pride。　So　he　still　knew　how　to　set　up　a　good　field　operation；　despite　having　bee　a　headquarters　drone。　He　smiled　as　he　stubbe