Red Rabbit - Tom Clancy [306]
"You've had a busy couple of days, my boy."
"Tell me about it, Admiral."
"How was it in Rome?"
"First, tell me about the Pope," Jack shot back.
"He came through surgery okay. He's critical, but we asked Charlie Weathers up at Harvard about that, and he said not to worry. People that age who come through surgery are always classified as being in critical condition—probably just a way to drive the bill up. Unless something unusual crops up, he'll probably be fine. Charlie says they grow good cutters in Rome. His Holiness ought to be home in three to four weeks, Charlie says. They won't rush it with a guy his age."
"Thank God. Sir, when I had that Strokov bastard I thought we'd done it, y'know? Then when I heard the shots—Jesus, what a moment that was, Admiral."
Greer nodded. "I can imagine. But the good guys won this one. Oh, your Orioles took the series from Philly. Game just ended twenty minutes ago. That new shortstop you have, Ripken, looks to me like he's going places."
"Ryan." Judge Moore came over next. "Well done, son." Another handshake.
"Thank you, Director."
"Nice going, Ryan," Ritter said next. "Sure you wouldn't like to try our training course at the Farm?" The handshake was surprisingly cordial. Ritter must have had a drink or two in the office, Jack surmised.
"Sir, right now, I'd be just as happy to go back to teaching history."
"It's more fun to make it, boy. Remember that."
The party moved inside, past the memorial on the right-side wall to the dead officers, many of whose names were still secret, then left to the executive elevator. The Rabbit family went its own way. There were hotel-like accommodations for VIP visitors and back-from-overseas field officers on the sixth floor, and evidently the CIA was bedding them down there. Jack followed the senior executives to the Judge's office.
"How good is our new Rabbit?" Moore asked.
"Well, sure as hell he gave us good information on the Pope, Judge," Ryan answered in considerable surprise. "And the Brits sound pretty happy with what he's told them about that Agent MINISTER. I'm kinda curious who this CASSIUS guy is."
"And NEPTUNE," Greer added. The Navy needed secure communications to survive in the modern world, and James Greer still had blue suits in his closet.
"Any other thoughts?" This was Moore again.
"Has anyone thought about how desperate the Russians are? I mean, sure, the Pope was—I guess he still is—a political threat of some sort to them, but, damn it, this was not a rational operation, was it?" Jack asked. "Looks to me as though they're a lot more desperate than we usually think. We ought to be able to exploit that." The mixture of alcohol and fatigue made it easier than usual for Ryan to speak his mind, and he'd been chewing on this idea for about twelve hours.
"How?" Ritter asked, reminding himself that Ryan was something of a whiz at economics.
"I'll tell you one thing for sure: The Catholic Church is not going to be very happy. Lots of Catholics in Eastern Europe, guys. That is a capability we need to think about using. If we approach the Church intelligently, they might just cooperate with us. The Church is big on forgiveness, sure, but you're supposed to go to confession first."
Moore raised an eyebrow.
"The other thing is, I've been studying their economy. It's very shaky, a lot more than our people think it is, Admiral," Jack said, turning to his immediate boss.
"What do you mean?"
"Sir, the stuff our guys are looking at, it's the official economics reports that come into Moscow, right?"
"We work pretty hard to get it, too," Moore confirmed.
"Director, why do we think it's true?" Ryan asked. "Just because the Politburo gets it? We know they lie to us, and they lie to their own people.