Red Rabbit - Tom Clancy [304]
"I hope they kill the zvoloch," Zaitzev snarled.
Ryan didn't reply, wondering if that might actually happen. Did the Brits play that rough? He had committed rather a nasty murder on their soil—hell, within sight of Century House.
"The Pope, will he live?" the Rabbit asked. Ryan was surprised to see his degree of interest. Maybe the guy was a real conscience defector after all.
"I don't know, Oleg. I called my wife—she's a surgeon. She says that it's better than a fifty-fifty chance that he will survive."
"That is something," Zaitzev thought out loud.
* * *
"WELL?" Andropov asked.
Colonel Rozhdestvenskiy stood a little more erect. "Comrade Chairman, we know little at this point. Strokov's man took the shot, as you know, and he hit his target in a deadly area. Strokov was unable to eliminate him as planned, for reasons unknown. Our Rome rezidentura is working carefully to discover what happened. Colonel Goderenko is taking personal charge. We will know more when Colonel Strokov flies back to Sofia. He is scheduled to be on the regular flight at nineteen hours. So, to this point it appears we have had a partial success."
"There is no such thing as a partial success, Colonel!" Andropov pointed out heatedly.
"Comrade Chairman, I told you weeks ago that this was a possibility. You will recall that. And even if this priest survives, he will not be going back to Poland anytime soon, will he?"
"I suppose not," Yuriy Vladimirovich grumbled.
"And that was the real mission, wasn't it?"
"Da," the Chairman admitted.
"No signals as yet?"
"No, Comrade Chairman. We've had to break in a new watch officer in Communications, and—"
"What is that?"
"Major Zaitzev, Oleg Ivanovich, he and his family died in a hotel fire in Budapest. He had been our communicator for mission six-six-six."
"Why was I not informed of this?"
"Comrade Chairman," Rozhdestvenskiy soothed, "it was fully investigated. The bodies have been returned to Moscow and were duly buried. They all died of smoke inhalation. The autopsy procedures were viewed in person by a Soviet physician."
"You are sure of this, Colonel?"
"I can get the official report to you if you wish," Rozhdestvenskiy said with confidence. "I have read it myself."
Andropov shook it off. "Very well. Keep me informed on whatever comes in. And I want to be notified at once of the condition of this troublesome Pole."
"By your order, Comrade Chairman." Rozhdestvenskiy made his way out while the Chairman went back to other business. Brezhnev's health had taken a definite downturn. Very soon Andropov would have to step away from KGB in order to protect his ascension to the head seat at the table, and that was the main item on his plate at the moment. And, besides, Rozhdestvenskiy was right. This Polish priest would not be a problem for months, even if he survived, and that was sufficient to the moment.
* * *
"WELL, ARTHUR?" Ritter asked.
"He's calmed down a little bit. I told him about Operation BEATRIX. I told him that we and the Brits had people right there. He wants to meet the Rabbit we just got out, personally. So, he's still pretty pissed, but at least it's not at us," Moore reported on his arrival back from the White House.
"The Brits have this Strokov guy in custody," Greer let the DCI know. Word had just come in from London. "Would you believe Ryan's the guy who put the bag on him? The Brits have him now at their Rome embassy. Basil's trying to decide what to do with him. Best bet, Strokov ran the operation and enlisted this Turkish thug to do the shooting. The Brits say they caught him with a silenced pistol in his hand. The thinking is that his job was to take the shooter out, like that Mafia hit in New York a while back, to put big-league deniability on the assassination attempt."
"Your boy captured him?" the DCI asked in some surprise.
"He was there with a team of experienced British field spooks, and maybe his Marine training helped," Ritter allowed. "So, James, your fair-haired boy gets another attaboy."
Don't