tc.patriotgames-第49部分

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some　central　monitoring　room　　Ryan　didn't　know　where　that　was；　in　fact；　the　only　parts　of　the　building　he　actually　knew　were　the　path　to　his　erstwhile　cubbyhole　of　an　office；　from　there　to　the　men's　room；　and　the　route　to　the　cafeteria。　He'd　been　to　the　top　floor　several　times；　but　each　time　he'd　been　escorted　since　his　security　pass　didn't　clear　him　for　that　level。
　　　　〃Doctor　Ryan。〃　A　man　approached。　He　looked　vaguely　familiar；　but　Jack　couldn't　put　a　name　on　the　face。　〃I'm　Marty　Cantor　　I　work　upstairs。〃
　　　　The　name　came　back　as　they　shook　hands。　Cantor　was　Admiral　Greer's　executive　assistant；　a　preppy　type　from　Yale。　He　gave　Jack　a　security　pass。
　　　　〃I　don't　have　to　go　through　the　visitor　room？〃　Jack　waved　to　his　left。
　　　　〃All　taken　care　of。　You　can　follow　me。〃　
　　　　Cantor　led　him　to　the　first　security　checkpoint。　He　took　the　pass　from　the　chain　around　his　neck　and　slid　it　into　a　slot。　A　small　gate　with　orange　and　yellow　stripes；　like　those　used　for　parking　garages；　snapped　up；　then　down　again　as　Ryan　stuck　his　card　in　the　slot。　A　puter　in　a　basement　room　checked　the　electronic　code　on　the　pass　and　decided　that　it　could　safely　admit　Ryan　to　the　building。　The　gate　went　back　up。　Already　Jack　was　unfortable　here。　Just　like　before；　he　thought；　like　being　in　a　prison　　no；　security　in　a　prison　is　nothing　pared　to　this。　There　was　something　about　this　place　that　made　Jack　instantly　paranoid。
　　　　Jack　slung　the　pass　around　his　neck。　He　gave　it　a　quick　look。　It　had　a　color　photograph；　taken　the　previous　year；　and　a　number；　but　no　name。　None　of　the　CIA　passes　had　names　on　them。　Cantor　led　off　at　a　brisk　walk　to　the　right；　then　left　toward　the　elevators。　Ryan　noticed　the　kiosk　where　you　could　buy　a　Coke　and　a　Snickers　bar。　It　was　staffed　by　blind　workers；　yet　another　of　the　oddly　sinister　things　about　the　CIA。　Blind　people　were　less　likely　to　be　security　risks；　he　supposed；　though　he　wondered　how　they　drove　in　to　work　every　day。　The　building　was　surprisingly　shabby；　the　floor　tile　never　quite　shiny；　the　walls　a　drab　shade　of　yellow…beige；　even　the　murals　were　second…rate。　It　surprised　a　lot　of　people　that　the　Agency　spent　little　on　the　outward　trappings　of　importance。　The　previous　summer　Jack　had　learned　that　the　people　here　took　a　perverse　pride　in　the　place's　seediness。
　　　　Everywhere　people　walked　about　with　anonymous　haste。　They　walked　so　fast　in　the　building　that　most　corners　had　hubcap…shaped　mirrors　to　warn　you　of　possible　collision　with　a　fellow　spook　。　。　。　or　to　alert　you　that　someone　might　be　lurking　and　listening　around　the　corner。　
　　　　Why　did　you　e　here？
　　　　Jack　shook　the　thought　off　as　he　entered　the　elevator。　Cantor　pushed　the　button　for　the　seventh　floor。　The　door　opened　a　minute　later　to　expose　yet　another　drab　corridor。　Ryan　vaguely　remembered　the　way　now。　Cantor　turned　left；　then　right；　as　Ryan　watched　people　walking　about　with　a　speed　that　would　impress　a　recruiter　for　the　Olympic　Team's　heel…and…toe　crew。　He　had　to　smile　at　it　until　he　realized　that　none　of　them　were　smiling。　A　serious　place；　the　Central　Intelligence　Agency。
　　　　The　executive　row　of　CIA　had　its　own　private　corridor　　this　one　had　a　rug　　that　paralleled　the　main　one　and　led　to　offices　facing　the　east。　As　always；　there　were　people　just　standing　about　and　watching。　They　inspected　Ryan　and　his　pass；　but　showed　no　reaction；　which　was　good　enough　news　for　Jack。　Cantor　took　his　charge　to　the　proper　door　and　opened　it。
　　　　Admiral　James　Greer　was　in　civilian　clothes；　as　usual；　leaning　back　in　a　high…backed　swivel　chair；　reading　an　inevitable　folder　and　sipping　at　inevitable　coffee。　Ryan　had　never　seen　him　otherwise。　He　was　in　his　middle　sixties；　a　tall；　patrician…looking　man　whose　voice　could　be　as　courtly　or　harsh　as　he　wished。　His　accent　was　that　of　Maine；　and　for　all　his　sophistication；　Ryan　knew　him　to　be　a　farmer's　son　who'd　earned　his　way　into　the　Naval　Academy；　then　spent　forty　years　in　uniform；　first　as　a　submarine　officer；　then　as　a　full…time　intelligence　specialist。　Greer　was　one　of　the　brightest　people　Ryan　had　ever　met。　And　one　of　the　trickiest。　Jack　was　convinced　that　this　gray…haired　old　gentleman　could　read　minds。　Surely　that　was　part　of　the　job　description　for　the　Deputy　Director；　Intelligence；　of　the　Central　Intelligence　Agency。　All　the　data　gathered　by　spies　and　satellites；　and　God　only　knew　what　else；　came　across　his　desk。　If　Greer　didn't　know　it；　it　wasn't　worth　knowing。　He　looked　up　after　a　moment。
　　　　〃Hello；　Doctor　Ryan。〃　The　Admiral　rose　and　came　over。　〃I　see　you're　right　on　time。〃
　　　　〃Yes；　sir。　I　remembered　what　a　pain　the　mute　was　last　summer。〃　Without　being　asked；　Marty　Cantor　got　everyone　coffee　as　they　sat　on　chairs　around　a　low　table。　One　nice　thing　about　Greer　was　that　he　always　had　good　coffee。　Jack　remembered。　
　　　　〃How's　the　arm；　son？〃　the　Admiral　asked。
　　　　〃Almost　normal；　sir。　I　can　tell　you　when　it's　going　to　rain；　though。　They　say　that　may　go　away　eventually；　but　it's　like　arthritis。〃　
　　　　〃And　how's　your　family？〃
　　　　The　man　doesn't　miss　a　trick。　Jack　thought。　But　Jack　had　one　of　his　own。　〃A　little　tense　at　the　moment；　sir。　I　broke　the　news　to　Cathy　last　night。　She's　not　real　happy　about　it；　but　then　neither　am　I。〃　Let's　get　down　to　business；　Admiral。
　　　　〃So　what　exactly　can　we　do　for　you？〃　Greer's　demeanor　changed　from　pleasant　old　gentleman　to　professional　intelligence　officer。
　　　　〃Sir；　I　know　this　is　asking　a　lot；　but　I'd　like　to　see　what　the　Agency　has　on　these　ULA　characters。〃
　　　　〃Not　a　hell　of　a　lot。〃　Cantor　snorted。　〃These　boys　cover　their　tracks　like　real　pros。　They're　being　bankrolled　in　a　pretty　big　way　　that's　inferred；　of　course；　but　it　has　to　be　true。〃　
　　　　〃Where　does　your　data　e　from？〃
　　　　Cantor　looked　over　to　Greer　and　got　a　nod。　〃Doctor；　before　we　go　any　further；　we　have　to　talk　about　classification。〃　
　　　　Resignedly：　〃Yeah。　What　do　I　have　to　sign？〃
　　　　〃We'll　take　care　of　that　before　you　leave。　We'll　show　you　just　about　everything　we've　got。　What　you　have　to　know　now　is　that　this　stuff　is　classified　SI…codeword。〃
　　　　〃Well；　that's　no　surprise。〃　Ryan　sighed。　Special…Intelligence…Codeword　was　a　level　of　classification　higher　than　top　secret。　People　had　to　be　individually　cleared　for　the　data；　which　was　identified　by　a　special　codeword。　Even　the　codeword　itself　was　secret。　Ryan　had　only　twice　before　seen　data　of　this　sensitivity。　But　now　they're　going　to　lay　it　all　out　in　front　of　me；　he　thought　as　he　looked　at　Cantor。　Greer　must　really　want　me　back　to　open　a　door　like　this。　〃So；　like　I　said；　where　does　it　e　from？〃　
　　　　〃Some　from　the　Brits　　actually　from　the　PIRA　via　the　Brits。　Some　new　stuff　from　the　Italians　〃
　　　　〃Italians？〃　Ryan　was　surprised　for　a　moment；　then　realized　what　the　implications　of　that　were。　〃Oh。　Okay；　yeah；　they　have　a　lot　of　people　down　in　sand…dune　country；　don't　they？〃　
　　　　〃One　of　them　ID'd　your　friend　Sean　Miller　last　week。　He　was　getting　off　a　certain　ship　that　was；　miraculously　enough；　in　the　English　Channel　on　Christmas　Day；〃　Greer　said。　
　　　　〃But　we　don't　know　where　he　is？〃
　　　　〃He　and　an　unknown　number　of　associates　headed　south。〃　Cantor　smiled。　〃Of　course　the　whole　country　is　south　of　the　Med；　so　that's　not　much　of　a　help。〃
　　　　〃The　FBI　has　everything　we　have；　and　so　do　the　Brits；〃　Greer　said。　〃It's　not　much　to　go　on；　but　we　do　have　a　team　sifting　through　it。〃　
　　　　〃Thanks　for　letting　me　take　a　look。　Admiral。〃　
　　　　〃We're　not　doing　this　out　of　charity；　Doctor　Ryan；〃　the　Admiral　pointed　out。　〃I'm　hoping　that　you　might　find　something　useful。　And　this　thing　has　a　price　for　you；　too。　If　you　want　in；　you　will　be　an　Agency　employee　by　the　end　of　the　day。　We　can　even　arrange　for　you　to　have　a　federal　pistol　permit。〃　
　　　　〃How　did　you　know　〃
　　　　〃It's　my　job　to　know；　sonny。〃　The　old　man　grinned　at　him。　Ryan　didn't　think　this　situation　was　the　least　bit　funny；　but　he　granted　the　Admiral　his　points。　
　　　　〃When　can　I　start？〃　
　　　　〃How　does　your　schedule　look？〃
　　　　〃I　can　work　on　that；〃　Jack　said　cautiously。　〃I　can　be　here　Tuesday　morning；　and　maybe　work　one　full　day　per　week；　plus　two　half…days。　In　the　mornings。　Most　of　my　classes　are　in　the　afternoon。　Semester　break　is　ing　up；　and　then　I　can　give　you　a　full　week。〃
　　　　〃Very　well。　You　can　work　out　the　details　with　Marty。　Go　take　care　of　the　paperwork。　Nice　to　see　you　again；　Jack。〃　
　　　　Jack　shook　his　hand　once　more。　〃Thank　you；　sir。〃　
　　　　Greer　watched　the　door　close　before　he　went　back　to　the　desk。　He　waited　a　few　seconds　for　Ryan　and　Cantor　to　clear　the　corridor；　then　walked　out　to　the　corner　office　that　belonged　to　the　Director　of　Central　Intelligence。　
　　　　〃Well？〃　Judge　Arthur　Moore　asked。　
　　　　〃We　got　him；〃　Greer　reported。　
　　　　〃How's　the　clearance　procedure　going？〃
　　　　〃Clean。　He　was　a　little　too　sharp　doing　his　stock　deals　a　few　years　back；　but；　hell；　he　was　supposed　to　be　sharp。〃　
　　　　〃Nothing　illegal？〃　Judge　Moore　asked。　The　Agency　didn't　need　someone　who　might　be　investigated　by　the　SEC。　Greer　shook　his　head。
　　　　〃Nah；　just　very　smart。〃
　　　　〃Fine。　But　he　doesn't　see　anything　but　this　terrorist　stuff　until　the　clearance　procedures　are　plete。〃　
　　　　〃Okay；　Arthur！〃
　　　　〃And　I　don't　have　Deputy　Directors　to　do　our　recruiting；〃　the　DCI　pointed　out。
　　　　〃You're　taking　this　awfully　hard。　Does　a　bottle　of　bourbon　put　that　much　of　a　dent　in　your　bank　account？〃　　　　　The　Judge　laughed。　The　day　after　Miller　had　been　sprung　from　British　custody；　Greer　had　made　the　gentlemanly　wager。　Moore　didn't　like　losing　at　anything　　he'd　been　a　trial　lawyer　before　being　a　jurist　　but　it　was　nice　to　know　that　his　DDI　had　a　head　for　prognostication。
　　　　〃I'm　having　Cantor　get　him　a　gun　permit；　too；〃　Greer　added。　
　　　　〃You　sure　that's　a　good　idea？〃　
　　　　〃I　think　so。〃

　　　　〃So　it's　decided；　then？〃　Miller　asked　quietly。
　　　　O'Donnell　looked　over　at　the　younger　man；　knowing　why　the　plan　had　been　formulated。　It　was　a　good　plan；　he　admitted　to　himself；　an　effective　plan。　It　had　elements　of　brilliance　in　its　daring。　But　Sean　had　allowed　personal　feelings　to　influence　his　judgment。　That　wasn't　so　good。
　　　　He　turned　toward　the　window。　The　French　countryside　was　dark；　thirty　thousand　feet　below　the　airliner。　All　those　peaceful　people；　sleeping　in　their　homes；　safe　and　secure。　They　were　on　a　red…eye　flight；　and