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ections of private conversations between one guy who makes policy and another guy who tries to influence policy。 A lot of stuff is being left out。 This looks like a cover…your…ass diary； doesn't it？〃
Ryan told himself that this was a particularly smart critique。 Like the people at Langley； he'd allowed himself to wax a little too euphoric about a source they'd never even approached before。 SONGBIRD was good； but not without limitations。 Big ones。
〃Yeah； Rob； that's probably just what it is。 This Fang guy probably keeps the diary just to have something to pull out of the drawer if one of his colleagues on the Chinese Politburo tries to butt…fuck him。〃
〃So； it isn't Sir Thomas More whose words we're reading；〃 TOMCAT observed。
〃Not hardly；〃 Ryan conceded。 〃But it's a good source。 All the people who've looked at this for us say it feels very real。〃
〃I'm not saying it isn't true； Jack； I'm saying it isn't all；〃 the Vice President persisted。
〃Message received； Admiral。〃 Ryan held up his hands in surrender。 〃What do you remend？〃
〃SecDef for starters； and the Chiefs； and J…3 and J…5； and probably CINCPAC； your boy Bart Mancuso；〃 Jackson added； with a hint of distaste。
〃Why don't you like the guy？〃 SWORDSMAN asked。
〃He's a bubble…head；〃 the career fighter pilot answered。 〃Submariners don't get around all that much 。 。 。 but I grant you he's a pretty good operator。〃 The submarine operation he'd run on the Japs using old boomers had been pretty swift； Jackson admitted to himself。
〃Specific remendations？〃
〃Rutledge tells us that the Chims are talking like they're real torqued over the Taiwan thing。 What if they act on that？ Like a missile strike into the island。 Christ knows they have enough missiles to toss； and we have ships in harbor there all the time。〃
〃You really think they'd be dumb enough to launch an attack on a city with one of our ships tied alongside？〃 Ryan asked。 Nasty or not； this Zhang guy wasn't going to risk war with America quite that foolishly； was he？
〃What if they don't know the ship's there？ What if they get bad intel？ Jack； the shooters don't always get good data from the guys in the back room。 Trust me。 Been there； done that； got the fucking scars； y'know？〃
〃The ships can take care of themselves； can't they？〃
〃Not if they don't have all their systems turned on； and can a Navy SAM stop a ballistic inbound？〃 Robby wondered aloud。 〃I don't know。 How about we have Tony Bretano check it out for us？〃
〃Okay； give him a call。〃 Ryan paused。 〃Robby； I have somebody ing in a few minutes。 We need to talk some more about this。 With Adler and Bretano；〃 the President added。
〃Tony's very good on hardware and management stuff； but he needs a little educating on operations。〃
〃So； educate him；〃 Ryan told Jackson。
〃Aye； aye； sir。〃 The Vice President headed out the door。
They got the container back to its magnetic home less than two hours after removing it； thanking God…Russians were allowed to do that now…that the lock mechanism wasn't one of the new electronic ones。
Those could be very difficult to break。 But the problem with all such security measures was that they all too often ran the chance of going wrong and destroying that which they were supposed to protect； which only added plexity to a job with too much plexity already。 The world of espionage was one in which everything that could go wrong invariably did； and so over the years； every way of simplifying operations had been adopted by all the players。 The result was that since what worked for one man worked for all； when you saw someone following the same procedures as your own intelligence officers and agents； you knew you had a player in your sights。
And so the stakeout on the bench was renewed…of course it had never been withdrawn； in case Suvorov/Koniev should appear unexpectedly while the transfer case was gone off to the lab…with an ever…changing set of cars and trucks； plus coverage in a building with a line…of…sight to the bench。 The Chinese subject was being watched； but no one saw him set a telltale for the dead…drop。 But that could be as simple as calling a number for Suvorov/Koniev's beeper 。。。 but probably no； since they'd assume that every phone line out of the Chinese embassy was bugged； and the number would be captured and perhaps traced to its owner。 Spies had to be careful； because those who chased after them were both resourceful and unrelenting。 That fact made them the most conservative of people。 But difficult to spot though they might be； once spotted they were usually doomed。 And that； the FSS men all hoped； would be the case with Suvorov/Koniev。
In this case； it took until after nightfall。 The subject left his apartment building and drove around for forty minutes； following a path identical to one driven two days before…probably checking to see if he had a shadow； and also to check for some telltale alert the FSS people hadn't spotted yet。 But this time； instead of driving back to his flat； he came by the park； parked his car two blocks from the bench； and walked there by an indirect route； pausing on the way twice to light a cigarette； which gave him ample opportunity to turn and check his back。 Everything was right out of the playbook。 He saw nothing； though three men and a woman were following him on foot。 The woman was pushing a baby carriage； which gave her the excuse to stop every so often to adjust the infant's blanket。 The men just walked； not looking at the subject or； so it seemed； anything else。
〃There！〃 one of the FSS people said。 Suvorov/Koniev didn't sit on the bench this time。 Instead he rested his left foot on it； tied his shoelace； and adjusted his pants cuff。 The pickup of the holder was acplished so skillfully that no one actually saw it； but it seemed rather a far…fetched coincidence that he would pick that particular spot to tie his shoes…and besides； one of the FSS men would soon be there to see if he'd replaced one holder with another。 With that done； the subject walked back to his car； taking a different circuitous route and lighting two more American Marlboros on the way。
The amusing part； Lieutenant Provalov thought； was how obvious it was once you knew whom to look at。 What had once been anonymous was now as plain as an advertising billboard。
〃So； now what do we do？〃 the militia lieutenant asked his FSS counterpart。
〃Not a thing；〃 the FSS supervisor replied。 〃We wait until he places another message under the bench； and then we get it； decode it； and find out what exactly he's up to。 Then we make a further decision。〃
〃What about my murder case？〃 Provalov demanded。
〃What about it？ This is an espionage case now； rade Lieutenant； and that takes precedence。〃
Which was true； Oleg Gregoriyevich had to admit to himself。 The murder of a pimp； a whore； and a driver was a small thing pared to state treason。
His naval career might never end； Admiral Joshua Painter； USN （Ret。）； thought to himself。 And that wasn't so bad a thing； was it？ A farm boy from Vermont； he'd graduated the Naval Academy almost forty years earlier； made it through Pensacola； then gotten his life's ambition； flying jets off aircraft carriers。 He'd done it for the next twen