tc.patriotgames-第44章

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　　　　〃Yeah。〃　
　　　　〃All　the　work　was　at　CIA　headquarters。〃　
　　　　〃But　　you　said　over　in　England　that　you　never　〃　
　　　　〃That's　where　the　checks　came　from。　That's　who　I　was　working　for。　But　CIA　was　where　I　was　working　at。〃
　〃You　lied？〃　Cathy　was　astounded。　〃You　lied　in　a　courtroom？〃　
　　　　〃No。　I　said　that　I　was　never　employed　by　CIA；　and　I　wasn't。〃　
　　　　〃But　you　never　told　me。〃
　　　　〃You　didn't　need　to　know；〃　Jack　replied。　I　knew　this　wasn't　a　good　idea　。　。　。　
　　　　〃I'm　your　wife；　dammit！　What　were　you　doing　there？〃　
　　　　〃I　was　part　of　a　team　of　academics。　Every　few　years　they　bring　in　outsiders　to　look　at　some　of　their　data；　just　as　sort　of　a　check　on　the　regular　people　who　work　there。　I'm　not　a　spy　or　anything。　I　did　all　the　work　sitting　at　a　little　desk　in　a　little　room　on　the　third　floor。　I　wrote　a　report；　and　that　was　that。〃　There　was　no　sense　in　explaining　the　rest　to　her。　
　　　　〃What　was　the　report　about？〃　
　　　　〃I　can't　say。〃　
　　　　〃Jack！〃　She　was　really　mad　now。
　　　　〃Look；　babe；　I　signed　an　agreement　that　I　would　never　discuss　the　work　with　anybody　who　wasn't　cleared　　I　gave　my　word；　Cathy。〃　That　calmed　her　down　a　bit。　She　knew　that　her　husband　was　a　real　stickler　for　keeping　his　word。　It　was　actually　one　of　the　things　she　loved　about　him。　It　annoyed　her　that　he　used　this　as　a　defense；　but　she　knew　that　it　was　a　wall　she　couldn't　breach。　She　tried　another　tack。
　　　　〃So　why　are　you　going　back？〃
　　　　〃I　want　to　see　some　information　they　have。　You　ought　to　be　able　to　figure　out　what　that　information　is。〃　
　　　　〃About　these　ULA　people；　then。〃
　　　　〃Well；　let's　just　say　that　I'm　not　worried　about　the　Chinese　right　now。〃
　　　　〃You　really　are　worried　about　them；　aren't　you？〃　She　was　starting　to　worry；　finally。　
　　　　〃Yeah；　I　guess　I　am。〃　
　　　　〃But　why？　You　said　the　FBI　said　they　weren't　〃　
　　　　〃I　don't　know　　hell；　yes；　I　do　know。　It's　that　Miller　bastard；　the　one　at　the　trial。　He　wants　to　kill　me。〃　Ryan　looked　down　at　the　floor。　It　was　the　first　time　he'd　said　it　aloud。　
　　　　〃How　do　you　know　that？〃
　　　　〃Because　I　saw　his　face；　Cathy。　I　saw　it；　and　I'm　scared　　not　just　for　me。〃　
　　　　〃But　Sally　and　I　〃
　　　　〃Do　you　really　think　he　cares　about　that？〃　Ryan　snapped　angrily。　〃These　bastards　kill　people　they　don't　even　know。　They　almost　do　it　for　fun。　They　want　to　change　the　world　into　something　they　like；　and　they　don't　give　a　damn　who's　in　the　way。　They　just　don't　care。〃
　　　　〃So　why　go　to　the　CIA？　Can　they　protect　you　　us　　I　mean　。　。　。　〃　
　　　　〃I　want　a　better　feel　for　what　these　guys　are　all　about。〃　
　　　　〃But　the　FBI　knows　that；　don't　they？〃
　　　　〃I　want　to　see　the　information　for　myself。　I　did　pretty　good　when　I　worked　there；〃　Jack　explained。　〃They　even　asked　me　to；　well；　to　take　a　permanent　position　there。　I　turned　them　down。〃　
　　　　〃You　never　told　me　any　of　this；〃　Cathy　grumped。
　　　　〃You　know　now。〃　Jack　went　on　for　a　few　minutes；　explaining　what　Shaw　had　told　him。　Cathy　would　have　to　be　careful　driving　to　and　from　work。　She　finally　started　smiling　again。　She　drove　a　six…cylinder　bomb　of　a　Porsche　911。　Why　she　never　got　a　speeding　ticket　was　always　a　source　of　wonderment　to　her　husband。　Probably　her　looks　didn't　hurt；　and　maybe　she　flashed　her　Hopkins　ID　card；　with　a　story　that　she　was　heading　to　emergency　surgery。　However　she　did　it；　she　was　in　a　car　with　a　top　speed　of　over　a　hundred　twenty　miles　per　hour　and　the　maneuverability　of　a　jackrabbit。　She'd　been　driving　Porsches　since　her　sixteenth　birthday；　and　Jack　admitted　to　himself　that　she　knew　how　to　make　the　little　green　sports　car　streak　down　a　country　road　　enough　to　make　him　hold　on　pretty　tight。　This；　Ryan　told　himself；　was　probably　a　better　defense　than　carrying　a　gun。　
　　　　〃So；　you　think　you　can　remember　to　do　that？〃　
　　　　〃Do　I　really　have　to？〃
　　　　〃I'm　sorry　I　got　us　into　this。　I　never　　I　never　knew　that　anything　like　this　would　happen。　Maybe　I　just　should　have　stayed　put。〃
　　　　Cathy　ran　her　hand　across　his　neck。　〃You　can't　change　it　now。　Maybe　they're　wrong。　Like　you　said；　probably　they're　just　acting　paranoid。〃　
　　　　〃Yeah。〃

Chapter　12　Homeing

　　　　Ryan　left　home　well　before　seven。　First　he　drove　to　U。S。　Route　50　and　headed　west　toward　D。C。　The　road　was　crowded；　as　usual；　with　the　early　morning　muters　heading　to　the　federal　agencies　that　had　transformed　the　District　of　Columbia　from　a　picturesque　plot　of　real　estate　into　a　pseudo…city　of　transients。　He　got　off　onto　I…495；　the　beltway　that　surrounds　the　town；　heading　north　through　even　thicker　traffic　whose　more　congested　spots　were　reported　on　by　a　radio　station's　helicopter。　It　was　nice　to　know　why　the　traffic　was　moving　at　fifteen　miles　per　hour　on　a　road　designed　for　seventy。
　　　　He　wondered　if　Cathy　was　doing　what　she　was　supposed　to　do。　The　problem　was　that　there　weren't　that　many　roads　for　her　to　use　to　get　to　Baltimore。　The　nursery　school　that　Sally　attended　was　on　Ritchie　Highway；　and　that　precluded　use　of　the　only　direct　alternate　route。　On　the　other　hand；　Ritchie　Highway　was　always　a　crowded　and　fast…moving　road；　and　intercepting　her　wouldn't　be　easy　there。　In　Baltimore　itself；　she　had　a　wide　choice　of　routes　into　Hopkins；　and　she　promised　to　switch　them　around。　Ryan　looked　out　at　the　traffic　in　front　of　him　and　swore　a　silent　curse。　Despite　what　he'd　told　Cathy；　he　didn't　worry　overly　much　about　his　family。　He　was　the　one　who'd　gotten　in　the　way　of　the　terrorists；　and　if　their　motivation　was　really　personal；　then　he　was　the　only　target。　Maybe。　Finally　he　crossed　the　Potomac　River　and　got　on　the　George　Washington　Parkway。　Fifteen　minutes　later　he　took　the　CIA　exit。
　　　　He　stopped　his　Rabbit　at　the　guard　post。　A　uniformed　security　officer　came　out　and　asked　his　name；　though　he'd　already　checked　Ryan's　license　plate　against　a　puter…generated　list　on　his　clipboard。　Ryan　handed　his　driver's　license　to　the　guard；　who　scrupulously　checked　the　photograph　against　Jack's　face　before　giving　him　a　pass。
　　　　〃Sir；　the　visitors'　parking　lot　is　to　the　left；　then　the　second　right　〃　
　　　　〃Thanks；　I've　been　here　before。〃　
　　　　〃Very　well；　sir。〃　The　guard　waved　him　on。
　　　　The　trees　were　bare。　CIA　headquarters　was　built　behind　the　first　rank　of　hills　overlooking　the　Potomac　Valley；　in　what　had　once　been　a　lush　forest。　Most　of　the　trees　remained；　to　keep　people　from　seeing　the　building。　Jack　took　the　first　left　and　drove　uphill　on　a　curving　road。　The　visitor　parking　lot　was　also　attended　by　a　guard　　this　one　was　a　woman　　who　waved　him　to　an　open　slot　and　made　another　check　of　Ryan　before　directing　him　toward　the　canopied　main　entrance。　To　his　right　was　〃the　Bubble；〃　an　igloo…shaped　theater　that　was　connected　to　the　building　by　a　tunnel。　He'd　once　delivered　a　talk　there；　a　paper　on　naval　strategy。　Before　him；　the　CIA　building　was　a　seven…story　structure　of　white　stone；　or　maybe　prestressed　concrete。　He'd　never　checked　that　closely。　As　soon　as　he　got　inside；　the　ambience　of　spook…central　hit　him　like　a　club。　He　saw　eight　security　officers；　all　in　civilian　clothes　now；　their　jackets　unbuttoned　to　suggest　the　presence　of　sidearms。　What　they　really　carried　was　radios；　but　Jack　was　sure　that　men　with　guns　were　only　a　few　feet　away。　The　walls　had　cameras　that　fed　into　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