tc.redstormrising-第13节

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Toland　had　been　a　lieutenant　（j。g。）　serving　aboard　a　destroyer　based　at　Pearl　Harbor　when　he'd　first　noticed　Martha　Keegan；　a　junior　at　the　University　of　Hawaii；　majoring　in　psychology　and　minoring　in　surfing。　They'd　been　happily　married　for　fifteen　years　now。
〃So。〃　Keegan　stood　and　lifted　his　rod。　〃How　are　things　at　the　Fort？〃
Bob　Toland　was　a　middle…level　analyst　at　the　National　Security　Agency。　He'd　left　the　Navy　after　six　years　when　the　adventure　of　uniformed　service　had　palled；　but　he　remained　an　active　reservist。　His　work　at　NSA　dovetailed　nicely　with　his　naval　reserve　service。　A　munications　expert　with　a　degree　in　electronics；　his　current　job　was　monitoring　Soviet　signals　gathered　by　the　NSA's　numerous　listening　posts　and　ferret　satellites。　Along　the　way　he'd　also　gotten　a　masters　in　the　Russian　language。
〃Heard　something　real　interesting　last　week；　but　I　couldn't　convince　my　boss　it　meant　anything。〃
〃Who's　your　section　chief？〃
〃Captain　Albert　Redman；　U。S。　Navy。〃　Toland　watched　a　bay…built　fishing　boat　motoring　a　few　miles　away；　her　captain　laying　out　his　crab　pots。　〃He's　an　asshole。〃
Keegan　laughed。　〃You　want　to　be　careful　saying　stuff　like　that　out　loud；　Bob；　especially　seeing　how　you　go　on　active　duty　next　week。　Bert　worked　with　me；　oh；　must　have　been　fifteen　years　ago。　I　had　to　slap　him　down　a　few　times。　He　does　tend　to　be　slightly　opinionated。〃
〃Opinionated？〃　Toland　snorted。　〃That　bastard's　so　friggin'　narrow…minded　his　scratch　pads　are　only　an　inch　wide！　First　there　was　this　new　arms　control　thing；　then　I　came　up　with　something　really　unusual　last　Wednesday　and　he　circular…filed　it。　Hell；　I　don't　know　why　he　even　bothers　looking　at　new　data…he　made　his　mind　up　five　years　ago。〃
〃I　don't　suppose　you　could　tell　me　what　it　was？〃
〃I　shouldn't。〃　Bob　wavered　for　a　moment。　Hell；　if　he　couldn't　talk　with　his　kids'　own　grandfather　。。。〃One　of　our　ferret　birds　was　over　a　Soviet　military　district　headquarters　last　week　and　intercepted　a　microwaved　telephone　conversation。　It　was　a　report　to　Moscow　about　four　colonels　in　the　Carpathian　Military　District　who　were　being　shot　for　gundecking　readiness　reports。　The　story　on　their　court…martial　and　execution　was　being　set　up　for　　publication；　probably　in　a　Red　Star　this　week。〃　He　had　entirely　forgotten　about　the　oil…field　fire。
〃Oh？〃　Keegan's　eyebrows　went　up。　〃And　what　did　Bert　say？〃
〃He　said；　'It's　Goddamned　about　time　they　cleaned　their　act　up。'　And　that　was　that。〃
〃And　what　do　you　say？〃
〃Pop；　I'm　not　in　Trends　and　Intentions…those　idiot　fortune…tellers；　but　I　know　that　even　the　Russians　don't　kill　people　for　jollies。　When　Ivan　kills　people　publicly；　he　does　it　to　make　a　point。　These　were　not　manpower　officers　taking　bribes　to　fake　deferments。　They　weren't　popped　for　stealing　diesel　fuel　or　building　dachas　with　pilfered　lumber。　I　checked　our　records；　and　it　turned　out　we　have　files　on　two　of　them。　They　were　both　experienced　line　officers；　both　with　bat　experience　in　Afghanistan；　both　Party　members　in　good　standing。　One　was　a　graduate　of　Frunze　Academy；　and　he　even　had　a　few　articles　published　in　Military　Thought；　for　God's　sake！　But　all　four　were　court…martialed　for　falsifying　their　regimental　readiness　reports…and　shot　three　days　later。　That　story　will　hit　the　streets　in　Krasnaya　Zvezda　over　the　next　few　days　as　a　two…or　three…part　story　under　'The　Observer's'　by…line…and　that　makes　it　a　political　exercise　with　a　capital　P。〃
The　Observer　was　the　cover　name　for　any　number　of　high…ranking　officers　who　contributed　to　Red　Star；　the　daily　newspaper　of　the　Soviet　armed　services。　Anything　on　the　front　page　and　under　that　by…line　was　taken　quite　seriously；　both　in　the　Soviet　military　services　and　by　those　whose　job　it　was　to　watch　them；　because　this　by…line　was　used　explicitly　to　make　policy　statements　approved　by　both　the　military　high　mand　and　the　Politburo　in　Moscow。
〃A　multipart　story？〃　Keegan　asked。
〃Yeah；　that's　one　of　the　interesting　things　about　it。　The　repetition　means　they　really　want　this　lesson　to　sink　in。　Everything　about　this　is　out　of　pattern；　Pop。　Something　funny　is　happening。　They　do　shoot　officers　and　EM's…but　not　full　colonels　who've　written　for　the　journal　of　the　general　staff；　and　not　for　faking　a　few　lines　in　a　readiness　statement。〃　He　let　out　a　long　breath；　happy　to　have　gotten　this　off　his　chest。　The　workboat　was　proceeding　south；　her　wake　rippling　out　toward　them　in　parallel　lines　on　the　mirrored　surface。　The　image　made　Toland　wish　for　his　camera。
〃Makes　sense；〃　Keegan　mumbled。
〃Huh？〃
〃What　you　just　said。　That　does　sound　out　of　pattern。〃
〃Yep。　I　stayed　in　late　last　night；　running　down　a　hunch。　In　the　past　five　years；　the　Red　Army　has　published　the　names　of　exactly　fourteen　executed　officers；　none　higher　than　a　full　colonel；　and　even　then　only　on　manpower　officer　in　Soviet　Georgia。　The　guy　was　taking　payoffs　for　deferments。　The　others　broke　down　into　one　case　of　spying；　for　us　or　somebody；　three　derelictions　of　duty　while　under　the　influence　of　alcohol；　and　nine　conventional　corruption　cases；　selling　everything　from　gasoline　to　a　whole　mainframe　puter　nalyevo；　'on　the　left；'　the　shadow　market。　Now　all　of　a　sudden　they　waste　four　regimental　manders；　all　in　the　same　military　district。〃
〃You　could　take　that　to　Redman；〃　Keegan　suggested。
〃Waste　of　time。〃
〃Those　other　cases…I　seem　to　remember　the　three　guys　who…〃
〃Yeah；　that　was　part　of　the　temperance　campaign。　Too　many　guys　turn　up　drunk　on　duty；　and　they　pick　three　volunteers；　pour　encourager　les　autres。〃　Bob　shook　his　head。　〃Jeez；　Voltaire　would　have　loved　these　guys。〃
〃You　talk　with　people　who're　into　civilian　intelligence？〃
〃No；　my　crowd　is　all　military　telemunications。〃
〃At　lunch　last…Monday；　I　think；　I　was　talking　with　a　guy　from　Langley。　Ex…Army；　we　go　way　back。　Anyway；　he　was　joking　that　there's　a　new　shortage　over　there。〃
〃Another　one？〃　Bob　was　amused。　Shortages　were　nothing　new　in　Russia。　One　month　toothpaste；　or　toilet　paper；　or　windshield　wipers…he　had　heard　of　many　such　things　over　lunch　at　the　NSA　missary。
〃Yeah；　car　and　truck　batteries。〃
〃Really？〃
〃Yeah；　for　the　last　month　you　can't　get　a　battery　for　your　car　or　truck　over　there。　A　lot　of　cars　are　not　moving；　and　batteries　are　being　stolen　left　and　right；　so　people　are　disconnecting　their　batteries　at　night　and　taking　them　home；　would　you　believe？〃
〃But　Togliattishtadt…〃　Toland　said；　and　stopped。　He　referred　to　the　massive　auto　factory…city　in　European　Russia；　the　construction　of　which　was　a　〃Hero　Project〃　for　which　thousands　of　workers　had　been　mobilized。　Among　the　most　modem　auto　plexes　in　the　world；　it　had　been　built　mainly　with　Italian　technology。　〃They　have　a　hell　of　a　battery　manufacturing　facility　there。　Hasn't　blown　up；　has　it？〃
〃Working　three　shifts。　What　do　you　think　of　that？〃

NORFOLK；　VIRGINIA
Toland　examined　himself　in　the　full…sized　mirror　in　the　Norfolk　BOQ　plex。　He'd　made　the　drive　down　the　evening　before。　The　uniform　still　fit；　he　noted；　maybe　a　little　tight　at　the　waist；　but　that　was　nature　at　work；　wasn't　it？　His　〃salad　bar〃　of　decorations　was　a　bleak　row　and　a　half；　but　he　had　his　surface　warfare　officer's　badge；　his　〃water　wings〃　he　hadn't　always　been　a　glorified　radio　operator。　His　sleeves　bore　the　two　and　a　half　stripes　of　a　lieutenant　mander。　A　final　swipe　of　a　cloth　across　his　shoes　and　he　was　out　the　door；　ready　on　this　bright　Monday　morning　for　his　annual　two　weeks　of　duty　with　the　fleet。
Five　minutes　later；　he　was　driving　down　Mitcher　Avenue　toward　headquarters　of　the　mander…in…Chief；　Atlantic　Fleet…CINCLANTFLT　…a　flat；　thoroughly　undistinguished　building　that　had　once　been　a　hospital。　An　habitual　early　riser；　Toland　found　the　Ingersoll　Street　parking　lot　half　empty；　but　he　was　still　careful　to　take　an　unmarked　space　lest　he　incur　the　wrath　of　a　senior　officer。
〃Bob？　Bob　Toland！〃　a　voice　called。
〃Ed　Morris！〃
It　was　now　mander　Edward　Morris；　USN；　Toland　noted；　and　a　shiny　gold　star　on　his　uniform　jacket　designated　him　as　the　mander　of　some　ship　or　other。　Toland　saluted　his　friend　before　shaking　hands。
〃Still　playing　bridge；　Bob？〃　Toland；　Morris；　and　two　other　officers　had　once　established　the　most　regular　bridge　foursome　at　the　Pearl　Harbor　officers　club。
〃Some。　Marty　isn't　much　of　a　card　player；　but　we　got　a　bunch　at　work　that　meets　once　a　week。〃
〃Good　as　we　used　to　be？〃　　Morris　asked　as　they　headed　off　in　the　same　direction。
〃Are　you　kidding？　You　know　where　I　work　now？〃
〃I　heard　you　ended　up　at　Fort　Meade　after　you　hung　it　up。〃
〃Yeah；　and　there's　bridge　players　at　NSA　who're　wired　into　the　damn　puters…I'm　talking　assassins！〃
〃So　how's　the　family？〃
〃Just　great。　How's　yours？〃
〃Growing　up　too　damned　fast…makes　you　feel　old。〃
〃That's　the　truth；〃　Morris　chuckled。　He　jabbed　a　finger　at　his　friend's　star。　〃Now　you　can　tell　me　about　your　new　kid。〃
〃Look　at　my　car。〃
Toland　turned　around。　Morris's　Ford　had　a　personalized　license　plate：　FF…1094。　To　the　uninitiated　it　was　an　ordinary　license　number；　but　to　a　sailor　it　advertised　his　mand：　antisubmarine　frigate　number　one　thousand　ninety…four；　USS　PHARRIS。
〃You　always　were　nice　and　modest；〃　Toland　noted　with　a　grin。　〃That's　all　right；　Ed。　How　long　you　had　her？〃
〃Two　years。　She's　big；　she's　pretty；　and　she's　mine！　You　should　have　stayed　in；　Bob。　Th