el.the miko-第80部分

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d　into　American　life　via　that　school　had　failed　to　respond　to　their　wakeup　call。　Life　in　the　West　presented　a　siren　call　apparently　too　seductive　to　resist　for　all　but　the　most　hardened　personality。
　Protorov　preferred　to　keep　the　Soviet　ethos　very　much　alive　at　his　academy　while　he　expanded　the　minds　of　his　pupils；　broadened　their　outlook。　In　short；　taught　them　to　think　independently。
　The　old　bureaucrats　in　the　Kremlin；　had　they　known　what　he　was　up　to；　would　no　doubt　have　closed　him　down　summarily。　But　the　truth　was　they　were　afraid　of　the　Ninth　Directorate　and　afraid；　especially；　of　Viktor　Protorov。　Besides；　he　brought　them　too　many　third　world　victories。　It　was　too　convenient　for　them　to　swell　upon　his　most　recent　successes　in　Argentina；　snaring　England　into　an　idiotic　and　draining　war；　and　in　El　Salvador；　egging　the　hawkish　American　administration　on　into　what　could　easily　bee　another　Vietnam。　They　were　not　adept　at　examining　their　fears；　anyway。
　Pyotr　Alexandrovitch　Russilov　was　a　graduate　from　Protorov's　Ural　academy。　But　he　was　special　in　many　ways。　For　one；　he　had　graduated　at　the　top　of　his　class。　For　another；　he　had　adapted　superbly　to　the　field。　Protorov　had　found　through　bitter　experience　that　academic　life　had　little　in　mon　with　the　awesome　pressures　at　work　in　the　field。　Many　graduates　did　not　make　the　adjustment　and　were　〃retired〃　to　the　Ninth's　bureaucratic　section；　where　they　never　again　came　into　direct　contact　with　Protorov。
　But　Gospadin　Russilov　was　different　in　another　way。　He　was　an　orphan。　Early　on　the　State…or；　more　properly；　Protorov…　had　taken　him　over。　He　was　a　reclamation　project　of　the　first　rank。
　Because　Protorov　was　married　to　his　job；　and　also　perhaps　because　sex　had　never　meant　that　much　to　him；　there　had　only　been　one　woman　in　his　life。　She　was　someone　he　would　have　preferred　to　forget　but　could　not。　Alena　was　the　wife　of　a　Jewish　dissident。　After　Protorov；　then　head　of　the　First　Directorate；　had　sent　Alena's　husband　off　to　a　gulag；　he　took　her　to　bed。　It　had　been　far　more　pleasurable　for　him　than　he　had　ever　imagined。
　Whether　it　was　because　of　the　peculiar　circumstances　surrounding　the　incident　or　whether　it　was　something　within　Alena　herself　Protorov　could　not　say。　He　thought　of　himself　as　a　basically　dispassionate　man；　able　to　see　clearly　and　objectively　all　situations。　Yet　he　had　never　been　able　to　fathom　this　one。　It　remained　like　a　great　ice　floe；　hidden　beneath　arctic　waters；　mocking　him　with　its　opacity。
　But　like　it　or　not；　Alena　was　all　he　had；　in　reality；　and　then；　after　he　had　her　sent　down　in　Lubyanka；　in　his　memory。　Until　Russilov。　Without　quite　knowing　how　it　had　happened　Protorov　had　e　to　look　upon　his　protege　as　family。　Son　was　not　too　strong　a　word　to　use。　When　Protorov　retired　from　the　Ninth；　which　would　not　be　very　long　now；　he　knew　that　Russilov　would　run　it　well。
　Now　that　he　had　received　the　signal　from　Colonel　Mironenko　that　the　KGB…GRU　summit　was　scheduled　for　a　week　away；　his　time　at　the　Ninth　was　ing　to　an　end。　But　he　had　to　have　penetrated　Tenchi　by　then。　Tengu；　his　second　agent　inside　the　Tenshin　Shoden　Katori　ryu；　had　been　mysteriously　murdered　as　he　was　escaping　with　the　prize　that　Protorov　had　been　seeking　since　he　had　received　the　information　that　that　particular　ninja　ryu　was　safeguarding　Tenchi's　written　records。　It　was　a　frustrating　setback；　Protorov　thought　now。　But　not　a　fatal　one　by　any　means。
　〃Sir？〃
　Protorov　looked　up；　his　train　of　thought　disturbed。　〃Yes；　Lieutenant　Russilov。〃　He　liked　the　way　the　young　man　addressed　him　as　〃Sir〃　and　not　〃rade。〃　Rank　was　important　in　the　Ninth　Directorate　and；　unlike　the　hypocrisy　running　rampant　in　the　Kremlin；　Protorov　made　no　bones　about　it。
　Russilov　entered　the　soundproofed　chamber　through　the　vault…like　door。　He　held　a　sheaf　of　puter　printouts　in　his　hands。　〃I　believe　Sakhov　IV　has　given　us　a　clue　after　all。〃
　Immediately　Protorov　cleared　his　desk　of　paper；　stacking　files。　Russilov　set　the　sheaf　down　in　the　open　space。　It　was　open　to　the　fourth　page。　Both　men　stared　hard　at　the　readout　broadcast　from　the　tracking　satellite's　onboard　puter。　It　showed　a　gridform　geographical　tableau　approximately　150　by　200　kilometers。　The　land…sea　area　was　quite　familiar　to　the　Russians。　It　was　the　section　of　sea　between　the　northerly　end　of　Hokkaido　and　the　most　southerly　of　the　Kuriles；　Kunashir。　Part　of　that　area　was　Japanese　territory；　part　was　a　Soviet　possession。
　The　young　lieutenant's　finger　stabbed　out。　〃You　see　here；　sir〃…　the　pad　of　the　finger　roamed　across　the　Nemuro　Straits…〃there　is　nothing。　Absolutely　nothing　out　of　the　ordinary。
　〃Now〃…he　reached　up　and　flipped　to　the　next　page…〃just　here。〃　His　finger　hovered　over　one　small　point　in　the　Straits。
　〃What　is　it？〃　Protorov　asked；　knowing　quite　well　what　it　was。　He　did　not　want　to　deprive　Russilov　of　the　fruits　of　his　victory。　That　would　have　been　unfair。
　〃An　emanation　of　heat；〃　Russilov　said。　Protorov　looked　up　at　him　for　a　moment。　He　had　to　give　the　young　man　credit。　There　was　no　triumph　in　his　voice；　though　surely　he　must　be　feeling　it。　〃Very　strong。〃
　〃Volcanic　action；〃　Protorov　offered。　It　was　the　most　plausible　explanation。
　〃Oh；　this　is　much　too　localized　for　that。　Besides；　the　known　northerly　fault　is　here。〃　His　finger　moved　off　to　the　southeast。
　〃I　see。〃　Protorov　sat　back。
　〃What　is　it；　then？〃
　〃Tenchi。〃
　Oh　yes；　Protorov　thought。　That's　precisely　what　it　was。　Because　they　knew　from　reliable　sources　that　Tenchi　was　some　form　of　monumental　industrial　or　resource　project。　What　Protorov　and　his　unit　had　been　searching　for　all　this　time　was　some　discrepancy。　Now　Protorov　felt　it　was　here。　Then；　as　he　glanced　down　at　the　readout；　something　else　caught　his　eye。　He　did　some　rapid　mental　calculations；　then　mulled　it　over　for　a　time　before　saying　anything。
　〃Lieutenant；〃　he　said　meditatively；　〃this　intense　heat　activity。　Where　would　you　place　it；　exactly？〃
　〃That's　difficult　to　say；　sir。〃　Russilov　bent　over　the　readout。　〃As　you　know；　this　es　from　a　long　way　up。　And；　of　course；　our　technicians　have　had　to　piece　it　together　to　get　the　whole。〃
　〃Nevertheless；〃　Protorov　pursued；　〃I　want　your　best　guess。〃
　Russilov　took　his　time；　producing　a　jeweler's　loupe　with　which　he　routinely　scanned　the　readout。　At　length　he　stood　up；　dropping　the　magnifier　into　his　cupped　palm。
　〃If　I　were　put　to　it；　sir；〃　he　began；　〃I　would　have　to　say　that　part　of　the　activity　is　ing　from　Japanese　territory。〃　Protorov's　pulse　picked　up　a　beat。　〃And　the　other　part？〃　〃The　other　part；　it　seems　to　me；　is　ing　from　Russian　sovereign　territory。〃
　Alix　Logan　was　in　the　shower。　Croaker　sat　in　an　easy　chair　in　the　large；　neatly　furnished　room。　He　was　sipping　a　bourbon　and　water　that　room　service　had　brought　up。
　He　was　tired　and　he　let　his　head　fall　back　against　the　chair；　closing　his　eyes。　He　still　felt　the　slight　motion　vertigo　from　having　been　in　the　car　eighteen　straight　hours。　He　would　have　preferred　to　fly　out　of　Key　West　but　that　would　have　been　suicidal；　like　putting　a　〃e　Follow　Me〃　sign　on　their　backs。
　No；　all　things　considered；　a　car　had　been　best。　At　the　least　it　afforded　them　the　option　of　changing　destinations　any　time　they　pleased。
　Dimly　he　heard　the　shower　running。　He　thought　again　of　what　it　had　felt　like　to　have　Alix　Logan　sitting　beside　him　for　all　that　uninterrupted　time。　The　sun…streaked　hair　falling　now　and　again　on　his　shoulder；　those　piercing　green　eyes；　the　model's　lithe；　taut…fleshed　body；　the　skin　tanned　and　smooth　as　cream。
　And　that　led　him　to　thoughts　of　Angela　Didion；　the　other　model　and　Alix　Logan's　best　friend。　But　none　of　the　fame　Angela　Didion　had　amassed；　none　of　the　myriad　rumors　about　her　mattered　a　damn　at　the　moment　Croaker　had　entered　her　apartment　and　found　her　sprawled　across　her　bed；　naked　save　for　a　thin　gold　chain　around　her　waist；　and　very　dead。
　She　was　no　beauty　queen　then；　no　superbly　madeup　sex　goddess；　the　vision　of　every　man's　fantasy。　Stripped　so　harshly　of　life　she　was　merely　a　young　girl；　pathetic　in　her　ultimate　vulnerability。　And　she　had　moved　Croaker　more　then　than　she　ever　had　in　life。
　He　remembered　that　moment　well。　How　he　had　wanted　more　than　anything　else　to　wave　some　magic　wand　and　resurrect　her。　Not　for　himself。　Just　for　her。　In　death　she　was　only　a　human　being　and　therefore　far　more　than　she　ever　had　been　as　a　cover　girl　for　Vogue　and　Cosmopolitan；　where　she　had　been　drenched　in　two…dimensional　unreality。
　In　one　sense　that　seemed　a　very　little　thing　to　set　him　on　this　long；　torturous　quest。　A　tiny　thing　over　which　to　lose　one's　own　life。　But　when　one　thought　of　it　another　way；　it　was　the　only　truly　honorable　thing　to　do。　And　Lew　Croaker　had　learned　about　the　importance　of　honor　from　his　best　friend；　Nicholas　Linnear。
　Now　Alix　opened　the　door　to　the　steamy　bathroom　and　emerged　with　a　thick　towel　wrapped　around　her；　another；　smaller　one　wrapped　as　a　turban　around　her　hair。
　Croaker's　eyes　snapped　open　and　for　a　moment　he　saw　not　her　but　Angela　Didion　and　he　found　renewed　determination　not　to　let　Alix　Logan　die；　which　she　surely　would　if　the　Blue　Monster　ever　caught　wind　of　their　whereabouts。
　〃You're　next；〃　she　said；　giving　him　that　direct；　disconcerting　look　that　seemed　to　penetrate　his　skull。　〃You　look　like　death　warmed　over。〃
　Croaker　grunted　and　finished　off　his　drink。　〃Funny。　I　feel　worse　than　that。〃
　She　sat　down　on　one　of　the　double　beds；　her　hands　in　her　lap。　〃Why　are　you　doing　this？　That's　what　I'd　like　to　know。　They'll　kill　you　if　they　catch　you。　You　know　that；　don't　you。〃
　〃It's　because　of　Angela。〃
　〃You　didn't　even　know　her；〃　Alix　said。　〃You　were　in　love　with　that　face　just　like　everyone　else。〃
　〃You　don't　get　it　at　all；〃　he　said；　shifting　in　his　seat。
　〃And　I　never　will；〃　she　said　archly；　〃unless　you　explain　it　to　me。〃
　〃She　died　on　my　turf。〃　He　swirled　the　ice　around　the　empty　glass；　staring　at　the　cubes　but　looking　at　nothing　at　all。　〃Someone　did　her　in；　I　want　to　find　out　who。　Because　she　was　a　person　just　like　anyone　else。　She　deserved　that　much；　at　least。〃
　Alix　gave　a　short　laugh。　〃I'm　in　a　better　position　to　know　what　she　deserved。〃　She　paused　for　a　moment　as　if　gathering　herself。　〃She　was　a　bitch；　Lew。　She　was　mean；　vindictive；　insanely　j