tc.redstormrising-第27部分

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hen　was　this　approved；　who　he　worked　through　to　get　it；　and　if　someone　other　than　his　regular　press　contact　finally　did　approve　it。〃
〃Setup。〃　Toland　said　it　out　loud。　He　wondered　if　they　were　being　clever…or　clinically　paranoid。　He　knew　what　most　people　would　think。
〃You　can't　smuggle　a　Penthouse　into　Russia　without　using　the　diplomatic　bag；　and　now　we're　supposed　to　believe　a　German　smuggled　a　bomb　in？　Then　tries　to　blow　up　the　Politburo？〃
〃Could　we　do　it？〃　Toland　wondered　aloud。
〃If　CIA　was　crazy　enough　to　try　it？　God；　that's　more　than　just　crazy。〃　Lowe　shook　his　head。　〃I　don't　think　anybody　could　do　it；　even　the　Russians　themselves。　It's　got　to　be　a　layered　defense。　X…ray　machines。　Sniffer　dogs。　A　couple　of　hundred　guards；　all　from　three　different　mands；　the　Army；　KGB；　MVD；　probably　their　militia；　too。　Hell；　Bob；　you　know　how　paranoid　they　are　against　their　own　people。　How　do　you　suppose　they　feel　about　Germans？〃
〃So　they　can't　say　he　was　a　crazy　operating　on　his　own。〃
〃Which　leaves　。　。　。〃
〃Yeah。〃　Toland　reached　for　his　phone　to　call　CNN。

KIEV；　THE　UKRAINE
〃Children！〃　Alekseyev　barely　said　aloud。　〃For　our　maskirovka　the　Party　murders　children！　Our　own　children。　What　have　we　e　to？〃
What　have　I　e　to？　If　I　can　rationalize　the　judicial　murder　of　our　colonels　and　some　privates；　why　shouldn't　the　Politburo　blow　up　a　few　children　。　。　。　？　Alekseyev　told　himself　there　was　a　difference。
His　General　was　also　pale　as　he　switched　off　the　television　set。　〃'Arise；　ye　Russian　people。　We　must　set　these　thoughts　aside；　Pasha。　It　is　hard；　but　we　must。　The　State　is　not　perfect；　but　it　is　the　State　we　must　serve。〃
Alekseyev　eyed　his　mander　closely。　The　General　had　almost　choked　on　those　words；　he　was　already　practicing　how　to　use　them　on　the　crucial　few　who　would　know　of　this　outrage；　yet　had　to　perform　their　duties　as　though　it　never　existed。　There　will　e　a　day　of　reckoning；　Pasha　told　himself；　a　day　of　reckoning　for　all　the　crimes　mitted　in　the　name　of　Socialist　Progress。　He　wondered　if　he'd　live　to　see　it　and　decided　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