The Cardinal of the Kremlin - Tom Clancy [162]
"All that work wasted," Jack said after a few seconds. "They're going to trash my recommendations."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that Ernest Fucking Alien has talked the President into putting SDI on the table." It required all of Platonov's professionalism not to react visibly to that statement. Ryan went on: "It's all been for nothing. They've discredited my analysis because of this idiot stock thing. The Agency isn't backing me up like they should. They're throwing me to the fucking dogs. Not a damned thing I can do about it, either." Jack finished off the hot dog. "One can always take action," Platonov suggested. "Revenge? I've thought of that. I could go to the papers, but the Post is going to run a story about the SEC thing. Somebody on the Hill is orchestrating the hanging party. Trent, I suppose. I bet he put that reporter on me last night, too, the bastard. If I try to get the real word out, well, who'll listen? Christ, I'm putting my tight little ass on the line just sitting here with you, Sergey."
"Why do you say that?"
"Why don't you guess?" Ryan allowed himself a smile that ended abruptly. "I'm not going to go to jail. I'd rather die than have to disgrace myself like that. God damn it, I've risked my life-I've put it all on the line. Some things you know about, and one that you don't. I have risked my life for this country, and they want to send me to prison!"
"Perhaps we can help." The offer finally came across. "Defect? You have to be joking. You don't really expect me to live in your workers' paradise, do you?"
"No, but for the proper incentive, perhaps we could change your situation. There will be witnesses against you. They could have accidents "
"Don't give me that shit!" Jack leaned forward. "You don't do jobs like that in our country and we don't do them in yours."
"Everything has a price. Surely you understand that better than I." Platonov smiled. "For example, the 'disaster' Mr. Trent referred to last night. What might that have been?"
"And how do I know who you're really working for?" Jack asked.
"What?" That surprised him. Ryan saw past the pain in his sinuses.
"You want an incentive? Sergey, I am about to put my life on the line. Just because I've done it before, don't you think that it's easy. We have somebody inside Moscow Center. Somebody big. You tell me now what that name would buy me."
"Your freedom," Platonov said at once. "If he's as high as you say, we would do very much indeed." Ryan didn't say a word for over a minute. The two men stared at each other as though over cards, as though they were gambling for everything each man owned-and as though Ryan knew that he held the lesser hand. Platonov matched the power of the American's stare, and was gratified to see that it was his power that prevailed.
"I'm flying to Moscow the end of the week, unless the story breaks before then, in which case I'm fucked. What I just told you, pal, it doesn't go through channels. The only person ( ) is Gerasimov. It goes to the Chairman himself, direct to him, no intermediaries, or you risk losing the name."
"And why am I supposed to believe you know it?" The Russian pressed his advantage, but carefully.
It was Jack's turn to smile. His hole card had turned out to be a good one. "I don't know the name, but I know the data. With the four things that I know came from CONDUCTOR-that's the code name-your troops can handle the rest. If your letter goes through channels, probably I don't get on the airplane. That's how far up the chain he is-if it's a he, but it probably is. How do I know you'll keep your word?"
"In the intelligence business one must keep one's promises," Platonov assured him.
"Then tell your Chairman that I want to meet him if he can arrange it. Man to man. No bullshit."
"The Chairman? The Chairman doesn't-"
"Then I'll make my own legal arrangements and take my chances. I'm not going to jail for treason either, if I can help it. That's the deal, Comrade Platonov," Jack concluded. "Have a nice drive home."
Jack rose and walked away. Platonov