cc.fireice-第14节

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　〃Interesting　proposition。〃
　〃I　think　so。〃
　〃How　do　I　know　I　can　trust　you？〃
　〃Action　speaks　louder　than　words。　I've　given　the　order　to　move　back　a　half　mile。〃
　
　Petrov　watched　the　American　ship　lift　anchor　and　reposition　itself　farther　from　the　salvage　site。　Petrov　judged　that　despite　the　American's　lighthearted　manner；　he　was　determined　to　carry　out　his　mission。　The　alternative　to　a　deal　was　an　escalation　of　force。　Petrov　was　no　gambler。　If　the　American　reneged；　Petrov　could　use　the　armed　men　on　his　ship　and　the　Soviet　navy　was　on　call。　No　matter　what　the　oute；　however；　he　would　not　look　good　for　letting　the　confrontation　get　out　of　control。
　
　〃Very　well；〃　he　said。　〃Once　we　are　finished　with　our　salvage；　we　will　leave　and　you　may　move　in。〃
　

　〃Fair　enough。　What's　your　name；　by　the　way？　I　like　to　know　whom　I'm　dealing　with。〃
　
　The　question　caught　Petrov　off…guard。　In　a　sense；　he　had　no　name；　having　been　given　one　by　the　Soviet　government　He　chuckled　and　said；　〃You　may　call　me　Ivan。〃
　

　His　answer　was　greeted　by　a　deep　laugh。　〃I'll　bet　half　the　guys　on　your　ship　are　named　Ivan。　Okay；　you　can　call　me　John　Doe。〃　He　wished　Petrov　good　luck　in　Russian　and　hung　up。
　
　Petrov　lost　no　time　sending　divers　down　to　the　container　ship。　The　torpedo　blast　hole　allowed　for　relatively　easy　access　to　the　hull；　and　two　nuclear　devices　were　extracted。　There　were　a　few　dicey　moments　when　currents　snagged　the　lifting　line；　but　they　worked　on　rotating　shifts　and　got　the　job　done　in　less　than　twenty…four　hours。　Petrov　ordered　the　ship　to　move　out　and　signaled　the　Americans。　The　vessels　passed　within　a　few　hundred　yards　of　each　other；　going　in　opposite　directions。　Petrov　stood　on　the　deck　and　looked　through　binoculars　at　the　American　vessel。　Through　the　lenses；　he　saw　a　husky　man　with　gray　hair　looking　back　at　him。　At　one　point；　the　American　lowered　his　binoculars　and　waved。　Petrov　ignored　him。
　
　Their　next　encounter　was　not　as　friendly。　A　mercial　airliner　from　a　third…world　nation　had　been　mysteriously　shot　down　in　the　Persian　Gulf。　Paranoia　was　the　reigning　national　psychosis　of　the　Cold　War；　and　for　reasons　as　vague　as　they　were　far…fetched；　both　countries　suspected　the　other　of　plicity。　Again；　Petrov　and　Austin　located　the　plane　at　the　same　time。　Petrov's　ship　came　close　to　ramming　the　American　vessel；　shearing　off　at　the　last　second　so　Austin　could　see　the　heavily　armed　men　on　deck。　Austin　called　Petrov　and　warned　the　Russian　to　improve　his　driving　or　he'd　get　a　traffic　ticket。　Austin　stubbornly　refused　to　move　out。　An　international　incident　was　avoided　only　when　ships　from　the　plane's　home　nation　showed　up　at　the　site　to　claim　the　jetliner。
　
　As　the　rival　vessels　steamed　off　in　opposite　directions；　Austin　radioed　a　good…bye　message。
　
　〃So　long；　Ivan。　'Til　we　meet　again。〃
　
　Petrov　had　a　short　fuse　in　his　younger　days；　and　this　arrogant　American　was　annoying　him。　〃You　better　hope　that　won't　happen；〃　he　said　with　chilling　directness。　〃Neither　one　of　us　will　be　happy　with　the　oute。〃
　
　Eight　months　later；　Petrov's　prediction　came　true。　During　the　Cold　War；　the　United　States　pursued　a　daring　intelligence　operation。　When　the　secret　was　finally　unveiled　years　later；　one　writer　called　it　Blind　Man's　Bluff；　a　dangerous　game　played　by　a　few　intrepid　sub　manders　and　their　crews　whereby　they　would　bring　their　subs　within　a　few　miles　of　the　Soviet　coast　to　gather　intelligence。　One　scheme　involved　planting　an　electronic　pod　to　listen　in　on　underwater　munications　cables。
　
　In　his　drab　Moscow　office；　Petrov　lit　up　one　of　the　thin　Havana　cigars　he　had　made　on　special　order　and　puffed　out　a　mouthful　of　smoke。　His　mind　drifted　back　through　the　years；　and　in　the　purple　cloud　that　swirled　in　front　of　him；　he　saw　the　morning　mists　rising　off　the　dark；　cold　surface　of　the　Barents　Sea　as　his　ship　cut　through　the　water　at　full　speed。
　
　He　had　been　in　Moscow　trying　to　extract　funds　for　new　equipment　from　a　strategically　placed　apparatchik　who　was　plaining　about　tight　purse　strings。　One　of　Petrov's　assistants　had　called　and　said　that　a　strange　message　had　been　picked　up　from　an　unknown　ship　close　to　Russian　shores。　The　coded　message　was　short；　as　if　the　operator　were　in　a　hurry。　The　Soviet　cryptographers　were　trying　to　decipher　the　message。　The　only　reason　someone　would　risk　sending　a　message　would　be　if　he　were　in　trouble；　Petrov　thought；　as　the　bureaucrat　blathered　on。　Petrov　was　well　aware　that　American　subs　had　e　into　the　Barents　Sea。　Could　one　of　these　boats　be　in　trouble？
　
　He　broke　off　his　meeting　and　caught　a　plane　to　Murmansk；　where　his　survey　ship　was　waiting。　The　vessel　had　supplemented　its　scientific　gear　with　depth　charges；　guns　and　a　trained　plement　of　armed　marines。　By　the　time　his　ship　was　under　way；　the　code　had　been　broken。　The　message　consisted　of　one　word：　Stranded。　He　ordered　all　ships　and　aircraft　to　be　on　the　lookout　for　strange　vessels　on　or　under　the　surface。
　
　Despite　the　Soviets'　vigilance；　however；　the　Talon　carried　out　a　picture…perfect　rescue　operation。　The　American　ship　came　in　during　the　night　with　a　Russian…language　expert　on　board　who　gave　a　phony　identification　when　the　ship　was　picked　up　on　radar。　The　ID　wasn't　perfect；　but　it　bought　time。　Another　American　submarine；　whose　propeller　had　been　made　to　operate　noisily；　drew　the　Russians'　attention　away。　The　stranded　submarine　was　in　about　three　hundred　feet　of　water；　sitting　flat　on　the　bottom；　its　power　out　after　an　electrical　explosion。　The　hundred…man　crew　was　rescued　in　a　matter　of　hours；　using　a　special　diving　bell。
　
　Petrov　had　finally　figured　out　the　decoy　ruse　and　was　speeding　in　his　ship　to　the　rescue　site。　The　ship　followed　the　munications　cable　until　magnetometer　readings　showed　a　huge　mass　of　ferrous　material。　It　could　only　be　the　U。S。　sub。　A　ship　was　rapidly　moving　out　of　the　area；　and　Petrov　recognized　the　Talon。　Speaking　in　English；　Petrov　hailed　the　ship　by　its　name　and　ordered　it　to　stop。
　
　A　familiar　voice　responded　over　the　radio。　〃Ivan；　is　that　you？〃　said　the　man　who　called　himself　John　Doe。　〃Nice　to　hear　your　voice　again。〃
　〃Prepare　to　be　boarded　or　your　ship　will　be　sunk。〃
　
　A　roar　of　laughter　burst　from　the　radio。　〃Hell；　Ivan；　I　thought　you　Russians　were　better　chess　players　than　that。〃
　〃Frankly；　I　prefer　stud　poker。〃
　〃Which　is　obviously　where　you　learned　how　to　bluff。　Nice　try；　rade。〃
　〃This　is　your　last　warning。　Aircraft　will　be　overhead　in　five　minutes；　and　your　ship　will　be　destroyed　if　you　don't　stop。〃
　〃Too　little　and　too　late。　We'll　be　in　international　waters　in　three　minutes。　Our　State　and　Defense　Departments　are　aware　of　the　situation。　Looks　like　you're　out　of　luck。〃
　〃I　don't　think　so。　We　still　have　your　submarine　and　its　contents；　Mr。　Doe。　Our　scientists　will　have　a　field　day　dissecting　your　top…secret　equipment。〃
　〃That's　not　going　to　happen；　old　pal。〃
　〃I　think　it　will。　The　Glomar　Explorer　isn't　the　only　boat　that　can　raise　a　submarine。〃　Petrov　was　referring　to　an　earlier　U。S。　salvage　of　a　Soviet　submarine。
　
　〃I　wouldn't　get　near　that　boat　if　I　were　you。　It's　heavily　mined。〃
　〃Now　who's　bluffing；　Mr。　Doe？〃
　〃I'm　dead　serious；　Ivan。　The　sub　carried　two　hundred　pounds　of　HBX　explosives　in　case　something　like　this　happened。〃
　〃Why　would　you　care　if　I　were　killed？〃
　〃Look；　Ivan；　the　Cold　War's　not　going　to　last　forever。　Someday　we'll　bump　into　each　other　in　a　bar　and　you'll　buy　me　a　Stolichnaya　martini。〃　His　voice　lost　its　levity。　〃No　joke。　This　thing　will　self…destruct　in　about　twenty　minutes。　I　set　the　timer　myself。〃
　〃You're　lying。〃
　〃People　like　us　don't　lie　to　each　other；　old　pal。〃
　
　It　was　Ivan's　turn　to　laugh。　〃You've　seen　too　many　episodes　of　Mission　Impossible；　old　pal。〃
　
　He　clicked　off　the　radio。　There　was　noway　the　crew　could　have　been　evacuated　and　set　charges。　He　didn't　know　about　Austin's　expertise。　He　could　have　waited　twenty　minutes　to　see　if　Austin　was　telling　the　truth；　but　he　seethed　with　anger。　His　rage　overcame　his　good　judgment。　Petrov's　ship　carried　a　one…person　minisub　that　could　be　launched　quickly　for　reconnaissance；　and　Petrov　ordered　the　sub　readied　for　a　dive。
　
　Sitting　in　his　office　years　after　that　day；　he　examined　the　grayish…red　glow　of　cigar　ashes。　How　impetuous　and　foolish　he　had　been　as　a　younger　man。　He　had　jammed　the　bomb…shaped　sub　almost　straight　down。　Within　minutes；　his　lights　had　outlined　the　black　hulk　on　the　bottom；　and　he　saw　the　pod　near　the　cable　and　landed　near　it。　The　minisub's　retractable　metal　arm　had　the　pod　in　its　grip…when　there　was　a　blinding　flash　of　light　and　a　muffled　roar。　Petrov　felt　himself　flying　into　space。　Then　he　blacked　out。
　
　He　awoke　to　the　antiseptic　smell　of　a　Soviet　hospital。　His　broken　and　mangled　leg　was　in　traction；　and　the　right　side　of　his　face　was　heavily　bandaged　where　jagged　shards　of　plastic　or　metal　had　torn　his　skin　as　the　minisub　had　been　blown　to　the　surface；　where　it　had　been　retrieved　with　him　inside　it。　He　had　had　to　wear　a　hearing　aid　until　his　damaged　eardrums　healed。　He　spent　four　weeks　in　the　hospital　before　being　released　to　the　care　of　a　nurse　at　his　dacha；　the　country　home　he　maintained　outside　of　Moscow。
　
　Petrov　had　b