Red Rabbit - Tom Clancy [292]
"Too bloody right!" Ray Stones, one of the new arrivals, agreed with a laugh. "How did the missus take it?"
"Not too bad after Little Jack arrived, but the rest of the evening was subpar."
"I believe it," King observed.
"So, who told us that the Bulgarians want to kill the Pope?" Sparrow asked.
"It's KGB that wants his ass," Jack replied. "We just got a defector out. He's in a safe house, and he's singing like the girl in Aida. This is the most important thing so far. "
"Reliable information?" King inquired.
"We think it's gold-plated and copper-bottomed, yeah. Sir Basil has bought into it. That's why he flew you guys down," Jack let them know, in case they hadn't already figured that one out. "I've met the Rabbit myself, and I think he's the real deal."
"CIA operation?" This was Sharp.
Jack nodded. "Correct. We had an operational problem, and you guys were kind enough to help us out. I'm not cleared to say much more, sorry."
They all understood. They didn't want their asses exposed by loose talk about a black operation.
"This must go to Andropov himself—the Pope's giving them trouble in Poland, is it?"
"It would seem so. Maybe he has command of more divisions than they appreciate."
"Even so, this seems a little extreme—how will the world see the assassination of His Holiness?" King wondered aloud.
"Evidently, they fear that less than a total political collapse in Poland, Mick," Stones thought out loud. "And they're afraid that he might be able to bring that about. The sword and the spirit, as Napoleon said, Mick. The spirit always wins in the end."
"Yes, I reckon so, and here we are at the epicenter of the world of the spirit."
"My first time here," Stones said. "It is bloody impressive. I must bring the family down here sometime."
"They do know their food and wine," Sparrow observed, going through his veal. "What about the local police?"
"Rather good, actually," Sharp told him. "Pity we can't enlist their assistance. They know the territory—it is their patch, after all."
But these guys are the pros from Dover, Ryan thought, with some degree of hope. Just that there weren't enough of them. "Tom, you talk to London about the radios?"
"Ah, yes, Jack. They're sending us ten. Earpieces and lapel microphones to speak into. Sideband, rather like what the army use. I don't know if they're encrypted, but fairly secure in any case, and we'll use proper radio discipline. So at least we'll be able to communicate clearly. We'll practice with them tomorrow afternoon."
"And Wednesday?"
"We'll arrive about nine in the morning, pick our individual surveillance areas, and mill about while the crowd arrives."
"This isn't what they trained me for in the Corps," Ryan thought aloud.
"Sir John," Mick King responded, "this isn't what they trained any of us for. Yes, we are all experienced intelligence officers, but this really is a job for someone in the protective services, like the police constables who guard Her Majesty and the PM or your Secret Service chaps. Hell of a way to earn a living, this is."
"Yes, Mick, I expect we'll all appreciate them a little more after this lot," Ray Stones observed, to general agreement around the table.
"John." Ryan turned to Sparrow. "You've got the most important job, spotting this motherfucker for the rest of us."
"Lovely," Sparrow replied. "All I have to do is examine five-thousand-plus faces for the one that might or might not be there. Lovely," the spook repeated.
"What will you be using?"
"I have three Nikon cameras and a good assortment of lenses. I think tomorrow I might buy some seven-by-fifty binoculars also. I just hope I can find a good perch to scan from. The height of the parapet worries me. There's a dead space extending out from the base of the columns about thirty yards or so that I can't see at all. That limits what I can do, lads."
"Not much choice," Jack thought out loud. "You can't see shit from ground level."
"That is the problem we have," Sparrow agreed. "Our best choice would be two men, one—actually, more than one—on each side with good spotting glasses.