The Cardinal of the Kremlin - Tom Clancy [160]
"One or two. Does take some of the fun out of life, doesn't it?" The two men traded an insider's look.
Ryan was shopping alone. His wife's birthday was coming up-it would happen during his next Moscow trip-and he had to get everything out of the way early. The jewelry stores were always a good place to start. Cathy still wore the heavy gold necklace he'd given her a few years before, and he was looking for earrings that would go with it. The problem was that he had trouble remembering the exact pattern His hangover didn't help, nor did his nervousness. What if they didn't bite?
"Hello, Dr. Ryan," a familiar voice said. Jack turned with some surprise.
"I didn't know they let you guys come out this far." Act II, Scene 1. Jack didn't let his relief show. In that respect the hangover helped.
"The travel radius cuts right through Garfinckels, if you examine the map carefully," Sergey Platonov pointed out. "Shopping for your wife?"
"I'm sure my file gave you all the necessary clues."
"Yes, her birthday." He looked down at the display case. "A pity that I cannot afford such things for mine "
"If you were to make the appropriate overtures, the Agency could probably arrange something, Sergey Nikolay'ch."
"But the Rodina might not understand," Platonov said. "A problem with which you are becoming familiar, are you not?"
"You're remarkably well informed," Jack muttered.
"That is my function. I am also hungry. Perhaps you might use some of your fortune to buy me a sandwich?"
Ryan looked up and down the mall with professional interest.
"Not today." Platonov chuckled. "A few of my fellow a few of my comrades are busy today, more than usual, and I fear your FBI is undermanned for its surveillance task."
"A problem the KGB does not have," Jack observed as they moved away from the store.
"You might be surprised. Why do Americans assume that our intelligence organs are any different from yours?"
"If by that you mean screwed up, I suppose it's a comforting thought. How does a hot dog grab you?"
"If it's kosher," Platonov answered, then explained. "I'm not Jewish, as you know, but I prefer the taste."
"You've been here too long," Jack said with a grin.
"But the Washington area is such a nice place."
Jack walked into a fast-food shop that specialized in bagels and corned beef, but also served other fare. Service was quick, and the men took a white plastic table that sat by itself in the center of the mall's corridor. Cleverly done, Jack thought. People could walk past and not hear more than a few random words. But he knew Platonov was a pro.
"I have heard that you face some rather unfortunate legal difficulties." With every word, Platonov smiled. It was supposed to appear that they were discussing ordinary pleasantries. Jack supposed, with the added dimension that his Russian colleague was enjoying himself.
"Do you believe that little prick last night? You know, one thing I actually admire about Russia is the way you handle-"
"Antisocial behavior? Yes-five years in a camp of strict regime. Our new openness does not extend to condoning sexual perversion. Your friend Trent made an acquaintance on his last trip to the Soviet Union. The young man in question is now in such a camp." Platonov didn't say that he had refused to cooperate with the KGB, and so earned his sentence. Why confuse the issue? he thought.
"You can have him with my blessings. We have enough of them over here," Jack growled. He felt thoroughly awful; his eyes were pounding to escape from his head as a result of all the wine and insufficient sleep.
"So I have noticed. And may we have the SEC also?" Platonov asked.
"You know, I didn't do anything wrong. Not a damned thing! I got a tip from a friend and I followed up on it. I didn't go looking for it, it just happened. So I made a few bucks-so what? I write intelligence briefs for the President! I'm good at it-and they're coming after me! After all the-" Ryan stopped and stared painfully