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e floor…length windows to the Potomac Valley; out beyond the VIP parking lot。 〃Judge; Ed seems to think this guy has some very hot information。 We can't question him on that。 The obvious supposition is that the Rabbit's pretty far inside; and he wants to get the hell out of Dodge City。 Adding the wife and daughter to the package is a serious plication。 Again; we pretty much have to go with the instincts of our field personnel。 It would be nice if we could run the guy as an agent; have him deliver information on a continuing basis; but for some reason either that isn't feasible; or Ed thinks he has what we need and want already。〃
   〃Why couldn't he tell us more?〃 Greer observed; still holding the dispatch。
   〃Well; it's possible that he was time…limited on getting this to the bagman; or he didn't trust the courier system with stuff that could ID the guy to the opposition。 Whatever this guy has; Ed didn't want to trust normal munications channels; and that; gentlemen; is a message in and of itself。〃
   〃So; you say approve the request?〃 Moore asked。
   〃Not a hell of a lot else we can do;〃 Bostock pointed out rather obviously。
   〃Okay…approved;〃 the DCI said officially。 〃Get it off to him; right now。〃
   〃Yes; sir。〃 And Bostock left the room。
   Greer had himself a chuckle。 〃Bob's going to be pissed。〃
   〃What can be so important that Foley would want to short…circuit procedures this abruptly?〃 Moore wondered aloud。 〃We're just going to have to wait to find out。〃
   〃I suppose; but you know; patience has never been my long suit。〃
   〃Well; think of this as a chance to acquire a virtue; Arthur。〃
   〃Great。〃 Moore stood。 He could go home now and grumble all day; like a kid on Christmas Eve; wondering what was going to be under the tree…if Christmas was really going to happen this year。
   
   CHAPTER 18 … CLASSICAL MUSIC
   The bounce…back signal arrived after midnight in Moscow; where it was printed up and walked to Mike Russell's desk by the night munications officer and promptly forgotten。 Due to the eight…hour time difference from Washington; this was often the busiest time for inbound signals; and that one was just another piece of paper with gibberish on it; one which he was not allowed to decrypt。
   As Mary Pat had expected; Ed hadn't gotten any sleep to speak of; but had done his best not to roll around too much; lest he disturb his wife。 Doubts were also part of the espionage game。 Was Oleg Ivan'ch a false…flag; some random attempt from the: KGB on which he'd bitten down a little too fast and a little too hard? Had the Soviets just gone fishing at random and landed a big blue marlin on the first try? Did KGB play such games? Not according to his lengthy mission briefing at Langley。 They'd played similar games in the past; but those had been targeted deliberately toward people whom they knew to be players; from whom they could get a line on other agents just by following them around to check out drop sites
   But you didn't play it this way。 You didn't ask for a ticket out on the first go…round unless you really wanted something specific; like the neutralization of a particular target…and that couldn't be it。 He and Mary Pat hadn't done much of anything yet。 Hell; only a handful of people at the embassy knew who and what he was。 He hadn't recruited new agents yet; nor worked any existing ones。 That wasn't; strictly speaking; his job。 The Chief of Station wasn't supposed to work the field。 He was supposed to direct and supervise those who did; like Dom Corso and Mary Pat and the rest of his small but expert crew。
   And if Ivan knew who he was; why tip its hand so quickly…it would only tell CIA more than it knew now; or could easily learn。 You didn't play the spy game that way。
   Okay; what if the Rabbit was a throwaway; whose job it was to ID Foley and then give over useless or false information…what if the whole job had as its objective nothing more than to ID the COS Moscow? But they couldn't have targeted him without knowing who he 。was; could they? Even KGB didn't have the assets to shotgun such a mission and ping on every embassy staffer…it was way too clumsy and was certain to alert embassy personnel to something very strange under way。
   No; KGB was too professional for that。
   So they couldn't target him without knowing; and if they knew; they'd want to hide that information; lest they alert CIA to a source or method that they'd be far better advised to conceal。
   So Oleg Ivanovich couldn't be a false…flag; and that was that。
   So; he had to be the real thing。 Didn't he?
   For all his intelligence and experience; Foley could not e up with a construct that made the Rabbit anything but the genuine item。 The problem was that it made little sense。
   But what in espionage ever made sense?
   What did make sense was the necessity of getting this guy out。 They had a Rabbit; and the Rabbit needed to run away from the Bear。
   〃You can't say what's bothering you?〃 Cathy asked。 〃Nope。〃
   〃But it's important?〃
   〃Yep。〃 He nodded。 〃Yeah; it sure is; but the problem is that we don't know how serious。〃
   〃Something for me to worry about?〃
   〃Well; no。 It's not World War Three or anything like that。 But I really can't talk about it。〃
   〃Why?〃
   〃You know why…it's classified。 You don't tell me about your patients; do you? That's because you have rules of ethics; and I have rules of classification。〃 Smart as Cathy was; she still hadn't fully grasped that one yet。
   〃Isn't there any way I can help?〃
   〃Cathy; if you were cleared for this; maybe you could offer insights。 But maybe not。 You're not a pshrink; and that's the medical field that applies to this…how people respond to threats; what their motivations are; how they perceive reality; and how those perceptions determine their actions。 I've been trying to get inside the heads of people I haven't met to figure out what they're going to do about something。 I've been studying how they think for quite a while; even before I joined the Agency; but you know…〃
   〃Yeah; it's hard to look inside somebody's brain。 And you know what?〃
   〃What's that?〃
   〃It's harder with the sane ones than the crazy ones。 People can think rationally and still do crazy things。〃
   〃Because of their perceptions?〃
   She nodded。 〃Partially that; but partially because they've chosen to believe totally false things…for entirely rational reasons; but the things they believe in are still false。〃
   This struck Ryan as worth pursuing。 〃Okay。 Tell me about。。。 Josef Stalin; for instance。 He killed a lot of people。 Why?〃
   〃Part of it was rational; and part of it was wild paranoia。 When he saw a threat; he dealt with it decisively。 But he tended to see threats that weren't there or weren't serious enough to merit deadly force。 Stalin lived on the borderline between madness and normality; and he crossed back and forth like a guy on a bridge who couldn't make up his mind about where he lived。 In international affairs; he was supposed to be just as rational as everybody else; but he had a ruthless streak and nobody ever said 'no' to him。 One of the docs at Hopkins wrote a book on the guy。 I read it when I was in med school。〃
   〃What did it say?〃
   Mrs。 Dr。 Ryan shrugged。 〃It wasn't all that satisfactory。 The current thinking is that it's chemical imbalances in the brain that cause mental illness; not whether your dad slapped you around too much or you saw your mom in bed with a goat。 But we can't test Stalin's blood chemistry now; can we?〃
   〃Not hardly。 I think they finally burned him up and put him in…where? I don't remember;〃 Jack admitted。 It wasn't the Kremlin wall; was it? Or maybe they just buried the pine box instead of burning it all up。 It wasn't worth finding out; was it?
   〃It's funny。 A lot of historical figures did the stuff they did because they were mentally unstable。 Today; we could fix them with lithium or other stuff we've learned about…mainly in the last thirty years or so…but back then; all they had was alcohol and iodine。 Or maybe an exorcism;〃 she added; wondering if those were real。
   〃And Rasputin had a bad chemical imbalance; too?〃 Jack wondered aloud。
   〃Maybe。 I don't know much about that; except he was supposed to be a crazy

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