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 did not follow. He looked around and found his own security man, who signaled that they had not been observed.
And he had his own decision to make. Was Ryan genuine? Cassius said so.
He had run Agent Cassius for three years. Peter Henderson's data had always checked out. They'd used him to track down and arrest a colonel in Strategic Rocket Forces who'd been working for CIA, had gotten priceless strategic and political intelligence, and even inside American analysis of that Red October business of the previous-no, it was two years now, wasn't it, right before Senator Donaldson had retired-and now that he worked in the GAO, he had the best of all possible worlds: direct access to classified defense data and all his political contacts on the Hill. Cassius had told them some time before that Ryan was under investigation. At the time it had been merely a tidbit, no one had taken it seriously. The Americans were always investigating one another. It was their national sport. Then a second time he'd heard the same story, then the scene with Trent. Was it really possible ?
A leak high up in KGB, Platonov thought. There was a protocol, of course, for getting important data directly to the Chairman. The KGB allowed for any possibility. Once that message was sent, it would have to be followed up. Just the hint that CIA had an agent high in the KGB hierarchy But that was only one consideration. Once we set the hook, we will own Dr. Ryan. Perhaps he is foolish enough to think that a one-time exchange of information for services is possible, that he will never again more likely that he is so desperate that he does not care at the moment. What kind of information might we get from him?
Special Assistant to the Deputy Director for Intelligence! Ryan must see nearly everything! To recruit so valuable an agent-that hadn't been done since Philby, and that was over fifty years ago!
But is it important enough to break the rules? Platonov asked himself as he finished off his drink. Not in living memory had the KGB committed an act of violence in the United States- there was a gentlemen's agreement on that. But what were rules against this sort of advantage? Perhaps an American or two might have an auto accident, or an unexpected heart attack. That would also have to be approved by the Chairman. Platonov would give his recommendation. It would be followed. He was sure of that.
The diplomat was a fastidious man. He wiped his face with the paper napkin, put all the trash in the paper drink cup, and deposited it in the nearest receptacle.