tc.patriotgames-第55节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　　　　〃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　the　plane　was　nearly　empty。　The　stewardess　dozed　a　few　rows　aft；　and　there　was　no　one　about　to　hear　what　they　were　saying。　The　whine　of　the　jet　engines　would　keep　any　electronic　listening　device　from　working；　and　they'd　been　very　careful　to　cover　their　tracks。　First　the　flight　to　Bucharest；　then　to　Prague；　then　to　Paris；　and　now　the　flight　home　to　Ireland；　with　only　French　entry　stamps　on　their　passports。　O'Donnell　was　a　careful　man；　to　the　point　of　carrying　notes　on　his　fictitious　business　meetings　in　France。　They'd　get　through　customs　easily　enough；　O'Donnell　was　sure。　It　was　late；　and　the　clerks　at　passport　control　were　scheduled　to　go　home　right　after　this　flight　arrived。
　　　　Sean　had　a　pletely　new　passport；　with　the　proper　stamps；　of　course。　His　eyes　were　now　brown；　courtesy　of　some　contact　lenses；　his　hair　changed　in　color　and　style；　a　neatly　trimmed　beard　changing　the　shape　of　his　face。　Sean　hated　the　beard　for　its　itching。　O'Donnell　smiled　at　the　darkness。　Well；　he'd　have　to　get　used　to　that。
　　　　Sean　didn't　say　anything　else。　He　sat　back　and　pretended　to　read　through　the　magazine　he'd　found　in　the　seat　pocket。　The　pretended　patience　was　gratifying　to　his　chief。　The　young　man　had　gone　through　his　refresher　training　（O'Donnell　thought　in　military　terms　for　this　sort　of　thing）　with　a　passion；　trimming　off　the　excess　weight；　reacquainting　himself　with　his　weapons；　conferring　with　the　intelligence　officers　from　other　fair…skinned　nations；　and　living　through　their　critique　of　the　failed　operation　in　London。　These　〃friends〃　had　not　acknowledged　the　luck　factor；　and　pointed　out　that　another　car　of　men　had　been　needed　to　ensure　success。　Through　all　of　it；　Sean　had　kept　his　peace　and　listened　politely。　And　now　he　waited　patiently　for　the　decision　on　his　proposed　operation。　Perhaps　the　young　man　had　learned　something　in　that　English　Jail。　
　　　　〃Yes。〃

　　　　Ryan　signed　the　form；　acknowledging　receipt　of　the　cartful　of　information。　He　was　back　in　the　same　cubbyhole　office　he'd　had　the　previous　summer；　a　windowless；　closet…sized　room　on　the　third　floor　of　CIA's　main　building。　His　desk　was　about　the　smallest　size　made　　in　federal　prison　workshops　　for　office　use；　and　the　swivel　chair　was　a　cheap　one。　CIA　chic。
　　　　The　messenger　stacked　the　documents　on　the　corner　of　Ryan's　desk　and　wheeled　the　cart　back　out　of　the　room。　Jack　went　to　work。　He　took　the　top　off　a　Styrofoam　cup　of　coffee　bought　at　the　kiosk　around　the　corner；　dumped　in　the　whole　container　of　creamer　and　two　envelopes　of　sugar；　and　stirred　it　with　a　pencil　as　he　often　did。　It　was　a　habit　his　wife　loathed。
　　　　The　pile　was　about　nine　inches　high。　The　files　were　in　oversized　envelopes；　each　of　which　had　an　alphanumeric　code　stamped　on　in　block　figures。　The　file　folders　he　removed　from　the　top　envelope　were　trimmed　with　red　tape　so　as　to　look　important　　the　visual　cues　were　designed　to　be　noticed；　to　stand　out　visually。　Such　files　had　to　be　locked　up　in　secure　cabinets　every　night；　never　left　on　a　desk　where　someone　might　take　an　unauthorized　look　at　them。　The　papers　inside　each　were　held　in　place　with　Acco　fasteners；　and　all　had　numbers。　The　cover　of　the　first　file　had　its　codeword　neatly　typed　on　a　paper　label：　FIDELITY。　Ryan　knew　that　the　code　names　were　assigned　at　random　by　a　puter；　and　he　wondered　how　many　such　files　and　names　there　were；　if　the　dictionary　of　the　English　language　that　resided　in　the　puter's　memory　had　been　seriously　depleted　by　the　elimination　of　words　for　the　thousands　of　secret　files　that　sat　in　cabinets　throughout　the　building。　He　hesitated　for　a　moment　before　opening　it；　as　though　doing　so　would　irrevocably　mit　him　to　employment　at　CIA；　as　though　the　first　step　on　that　path　had　not　already　been　taken　。　。　。　
　　　　Enough　of　that；　he　told　himself；　and　opened　the　file。　It　was　the　first　official　CIA　report　on　the　ULA；　barely　a　year　old。
　　　　〃Ulster　Liberation　Army；〃　the　title　of　the　report　read。　〃Genesis　of　an　Anomaly。〃
　　　　〃Anomaly。〃　That　was　the　word　Murray　had　used；　Ryan　remembered。　The　first　paragraph　of　the　report　stated　with　disarming　honesty　that　the　information　contained　in　the　following　thirty　single…spaced　pages　was　more　speculation　than　fact；　based　principally　on　data　gotten　from　convicted　PIRA　members　　specifically　on　denials　they'd　made。　That　wasn't　our　operation；　some　of　them　had　said　after　being　caught　for　another。　Ryan　frowned。　Not　exactly　the　most　reliable　of　evidence。　The　two　men　who'd　done　the　report；　however；　had　done　a　superb　job　of　cross…referencing。　The　most　unlikely　story；　heard　from　four　separate　sources；　changed　to　something　else。　It　was　particularly　true　since　the　PIRA　was；　technically　speaking；　a　professional　outfit。　Jack　knew　from　his　own　research　the　previous　year　that　the　Provisional　Wing　of　the　Irish　Republican　Army　was　superbly　organized；　along　the　classic　cellular　lines。　It　was　just　like　any　intelligence　agency。　With　the　exception　of　a　handful　of　top　people；　the　specifics　of　any　particular　operation　were　partmentalized：　known　only　to　those　who　really　nee