tc.thebearandthedragon-第146部分

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　。。。　But　why　had　Hitler　hated　anyone　so　much　as　to　harness　the　industrial　might　of　his　nation　not　for　conquest；　which　was　bad　enough；　but　for　the　base　purpose　of　cold…blooded　extermination？　That；　Jack　knew；　was　one　of　history's　most　troublesome　mysteries。　Some　said　Hitler　had　hated　the　Jews　because　he'd　seen　one　on　the　streets　of　Vienna　and　simply　disliked　him。　Another　expert　in　the　field；　a　Jew　himself；　had　posed　the　proposition　that　a　Jewish　prostitute　had　given　the　failed　Austrian　painter　gonorrhea；　but　there　was　no　documentary　evidence　upon　which　to　base　that。　Yet　another　school　of　thought　was　more　cynical　still；　saying　that　Hitler　hadn't　really　cared　about　the　Jews　one　way　or　another；　but　needed　an　enemy　for　people　to　hate　so　that　he　could　bee　leader　of　Germany；　and　had　merely　seized　upon　the　Jews　as　a　target　of　opportunity；　just　something　against　which　to　mobilize　his　nation。　Ryan　found　this　alternative　unlikely；　but　the　most　offensive　of　all。　For　whatever　reason；　he'd　taken　the　power　his　country　had　given　him　and　turned　it　to　this　purpose。　In　doing　so；　Hitler　had　cursed　his　name　for　all　time　to　e；　but　that　was　no　consolation　to　the　people　whose　remains　fertilized　the　grass。　Ryan's　wife's　boss　at　Johns　Hopkins　was　a　Jewish　doc　named　Bernie
　Katz；　a　friend　of　many　years。　How　many　such　men　had　died　here？　How　many　potential　Jonas　Salks？　Maybe　an　Einstein　or　two？　Or　poets；　or　actors；　or　just　ordinary　workers　who　would　have　raised　ordinary　kids　。　。　。
　。　。　。　and　when　Jack　had　sworn　the　oath　of　office　mandated　by　the　United　States　Constitution；　he'd　really　sworn　to　protect　such　people　as　those；　and　maybe　such　people　as　these；　too。　As　a　man；　as　an　American；　and　as　President　of　the　United　States；　did　he　not　have　a　duty　to　prevent　such　things　from　ever　happening　again？　He　actually　believed　that　the　use　of　armed　force　could　only　be　justified　to　protect　American　lives　and　vital　American　security　interests。　But　was　that　all　America　was？　What　about　the　principles　upon　which　his　nation　was　founded？　Did　America　only　apply　them　to　specific；　limited　places　and　goals？　What　about　the　rest　of　the　world？　Were　these　not　the　graves　of　real　people？
　John　Patrick　Ryan　stood　and　looked　around；　his　face　as　empty　right　now　as　his　soul；　trying　to　understand　what　had　taken　place　here；　and　what　he　could…what　he　had　to　learn　from　this。　He　had　immense　power　at　his　fingertips　every　day　he　lived　in　the　White　House。　How　to　use　it？　How　to　apply　it？　What　to　fight　against？　More　important；　what　to　fight　for。''
　〃Jack；〃　Cathy　said　quietly；　touching　his　hand。
　〃Yeah；　I've　seen　enough；　too。　Let's　get　the　hell　away　from　this　place。〃　He　turned　to　the　Polish　guide　and　thanked　him　for　words　he'd　scarcely　heard　and　started　walking　back　to　where　the　car　was。　Once　more　they　passed　under　the　wrought…iron　arch　of　a　lie；　doing　what　two　or　three　million　people　had　never　done。
　If　there　were　such　a　thing　as　ghosts；　they'd　spoken　to　him　without　words；　but　done　it　in　one　voice：　Never　again。　And　silently；　Ryan　agreed。　Not　while　he　lived。　Not　while　America　lived。
　
　
　
　
　CHAPTER　46
　Journey　Home
　
　They　waited　for　SORGE；　and　rarely　had　anyone　waited　more　expectantly　even　for　the　arrival　of　a　firstborn　child。　There　was　a　little　drama　to　it；　too；　because　SORGE　didn't　deliver　every　day；　and　they　could　not　always　see　a　pattern　in　when　it　appeared　and　when　it　didn't。　Ed　and　Mary　Pat　Foley　both　awoke　early　that　morning；　and　lay　in　bed　for　over　an　hour　with　nothing　to　do；　then　finally　arose　to　drink　their　breakfast　coffee　and　read　the　papers　in　the　kitchen　of　their　middle…class　home　in　suburban　Virginia。　The　kids　went　off　to　school；　and　then　the　parents　finished　dressing　and　walked　out　to　their　〃pany〃　car；　plete　with　driver　and　escort　vehicle。　The　odd　part　was　that　their　car　was　guarded　but　their　house　was　not；　and　so　a　terrorist　only　had　to　be　smart　enough　to　attack　the　house；　which　was　not　all　that　hard。　The　Early　Bird　was　waiting　for　them　in　the　car；　but　it　had　little　attraction　for　either　of　them　this　morning。　The　ic　strips　in　the　Post　had　been　more　interesting；　especially　〃Non　Sequitur；〃　their　favorite　morning　chuckle；　and　the　sports　pages。
　〃What　do　you　think？〃　Mary　Pat　asked　Ed。　That　managed　to　surprise　him；　since　his　wife　didn't　often　ask　his　opinion　of　a　field…operations　question。
　He　shrugged　as　they　passed　a　Dunkin'　Donuts　box。　〃Coin　toss；　Mary。〃
　〃I　suppose。　I　sure　hope　it　es　up　heads　this　time。〃　〃Jack's　going　to　ask　us　in　。。。　an　hour　and　a　half；　I　suppose。〃　〃Something　like　that；〃　the　DDO　agreed　in　a　breathy　voice。　〃The　NATO　thing　ought　to　work；　ought　to　make　them　think　things　over；〃　the　DCI　thought　aloud。
　〃Don't　bet　the　ranch　on　it；　honey　bunny；〃　Mary　Pat　warned。
　〃I　know。〃　Pause。　〃When　does　Jack　get　on　the　airplane　to　e　home？〃
　She　checked　her　watch。　〃About　two　hours。〃
　〃We　should　know　by　then。〃
　〃Yeah；〃　she　agreed。
　Ten　minutes　later；　informed　of　the　shape　of　the　world　en　route　by　National　Public　Radio's　Morning　Edition；　they　arrived　at　Langley；　again　parking　in　the　underground　garage；　and　again　taking　the　elevator　up　to　the　seventh　floor；　where；　again；　they　split　up；　going　to　their　separate　offices。　In　this；　Ed　surprised　his　wife。　She'd　expected　him　to　hover　over　her　shoulder　as　she　flipped　on　her　office　puter；　looking　for　another　brownie　recipe；　as　she　called　it。　This　happened　at　seven…fifty…four。
　〃You've　got　mail；〃　the　electronic　voice　announced　as　she　accessed　her　special　Internet　account。　Her　hand　wasn't　quite　shaking　when　she　moved　the　mouse　to　click　on　the　proper　icon；　but　nearly　so。　The　letter　came　up；　went　through　the　descrambling　process；　and　came　up　as　clear…text　she　couldn't　read。　As　always；　MP　saved　the　document　to　her　hard　drive；　confirmed　that　it　was　saved；　then　printed　up　a　hard　copy；　and　finally　deleted　the　letter　from　her　electronic　in…box；　pletely　erasing　it　off　the　Internet。　Then　she　lifted　her　phone。
　〃Please　have　Dr。　Sears　e　up　right　away；〃　she　told　her　secretary。
　Joshua　Sears　had　also　e　in　early　this　morning；　and　was　sitting　at　his　desk　reading　The　New　York　Times　financial　page　when　the　call　came。　He　was　in　the　elevator　in　under　a　minute；　and　then　in　the　office　of　the　Deputy　Director　（Operations）。
　〃Here；〃　Mary　Pat　said；　handing　over　the　six　pages　of　ideographs。　〃Take　a　seat。〃
　Sears　sat　in　a　fortable　chair　and　started　his　translation。　He　could　see　that　the　DDO　was　a　little　exercised　about　this；　and　his　initial　diagnosis　came　as　he　turned　to　page　two。
　〃This　isn't　good　news；〃　he　said；　without　looking　up。　〃Looks　like　Zhang　is　guiding　Premier　Xu　in　the　direction　he　wants。　Fang　is　uneasy　about　it；　but　he's　going　along；　too。　Marshal　Luo　is　fully　on　the　team。　I　guess　that's　to　be　expected。　Luo's　always　been　a　hardball　guy；〃　Sears　mented。　〃Talk　here's　about　operational　security；　concern　that　we　might　know　what　they're　up　to…but　they　think　they're　secure；〃　Sears　assured　the　DDO。
　As　many　times　as　she'd　heard　that　sort　of　thing；　it　never　failed　to　give　her　a　severe　case　of　the　chills；　hearing　the　enemy　（to　Mary　Pat　nearly　everyone　was　an　enemy）　discuss　the　very　possibility　that　she'd　devoted　her　entire　professional　life　to　realizing。　And　almost　always　you　heard　their　voices　saying　that；　no；　there　wasn't　anyone　like　her　out　there　hearing　them。　She'd　never　really　left　her　post　in　Moscow；　when　she'd　been　control　officer　for　Agent　CARDINAL。　He'd　been　old　enough　to　have　been　her　grandfather；　but　she'd　thought　of　him　as　her　own　newborn；　as　she　gave　him　taskings；　and　collected　his　take；　forwarding　it　back　to　Langley；　always　worried　for　his　safety。　She　was　out　of　that　game　now；　but　it　came　down　to　the　same　thing。　Somewhere　out　there　was　a　foreign　national　sending　America　information　of　vital　interest。　She　knew　the　person's　name；　but　not　her　face；　not　her　motivation；　just　that　she　liked　to　share　her　bed　with　one　of　her　officers；　and　she　kept　the　official　diary　for　this　Minister　Fang；　and　her　puter　sent　it　out　on　the　Web；　on　a　path　that　ended　at　her　seventh…floor　desk。
　〃Summary？〃　she　asked　Dr。　Sears。
　〃They're　still　on　the　warpath；〃　the　analyst　replied。　〃Maybe　they'll　turn　off　it　at　some　later　date；　but　there　is　no　such　indication　here。〃
　〃If　we　warn　them　off。　。　。　？〃
　Sears　shrugged。　〃No　telling。　Their　real　concern　is　internal　political　dissension　and　possible　collapse。　This　economic　crisis　has　them　worried　about　political　ruin　for　them　all；　and　that's　all　they're　worried　about。〃
　〃Wars　are　begun　by　frightened　men；〃　the　DDO　observed。
　〃That's　what　history　tells　us；〃　Sears　agreed。　〃And　it's　happening　again；　right　before　our　eyes。〃
　〃Shit；〃　Mrs。　Foley　observed。　〃Okay；　print　it　up　and　get　it　back　to　me；　fast　as　you　can。〃
　〃Yes；　ma'am。　Half　hour。　You　want　me　to　show　this　to　George　Weaver；　right？〃
　〃Yeah。〃　She　nodded。　The　academic　had　been　going　over　the　SORGE　data　for　several　days；　taking　his　time　to　formulate　his　part　of　the　SNIE　slowly　and　carefully；　which　was　the　way　he　worked。　〃You　mind　working　with　him？〃
　〃Not　really。　He　knows　their　heads　pretty　well；　maybe　a　little　better　than　I　do…he　has　a　master's　in　psychology　from　Yale。　Just　he's　a　little　slow　formulating　his　conclusions。〃
　〃Tell　him　I　want　something　I　can　use　by　the　end　of　the　day。〃
　〃Will　do；〃　Sears　promised；　rising　for　the　door。　Mary　Pat　followed　him　out；　but　took　a　different　turn。
　〃Yeah？〃　Ed　Foley　said；　when　she　came　into　his　office。
　〃You'll　have　the　write…up　in　half　an　hour　or　so。　Short　version：　They　are　not　impressed　by　the　NATO　play。〃
　〃Oh；　shit；〃　the　DCI　observed　at　once。
　〃Yeah；〃　his　wife　agreed。　〃Better　find　out　how　quick　we　can　get　the　information　to　Jack。〃
　〃Okay。〃　The　DCI　lifted　his　secure　phone　and　punched　the　speed…dial　button　for　the　White　House。
　
　There　was　one　last　semi…official　meeting　at　the　American　Embassy　before　departure；　and　again　it　was　Golovko　speaking　for　his　president；　who　was　away　schmoozing　with　the　British　Prime　Minister。
　〃What　did　you　make　of　Auschwitz？〃　the　Russian　asked。
　〃It　ain't　Disney　World；〃　Jack　replied；　taking　a　sip　of　coffee。　〃Have　you　been　there？〃
　〃My　uncle　Sasha　was　part　of　the　force　that　liberated　the　camp；〃　Sergey　replied。　〃He　was　a　tank　mander…a　colonel…in　the　Great　Motherland　War。〃
　〃Did　you　talk　to　him　about　it？〃
　〃When　I　was　a　boy。　Sasha…my　mother's　brother；　h