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y would soon be admiring it。 Ryan led his wife to the outside； where a rank of cabs waited。 He walked her to the first one in line。
〃Hammersmith Hospital；〃 he told the driver。 Then he kissed his wife good…bye。
〃See you tonight； Jack。〃 She always had a smile for him。
〃Have a good one； babe。〃 And Ryan made his way to the other side of the building。 Part of him hated the fact that Cathy had to work。 His mom never had。 His father； like all men of his generation； had figured that it was the man's job to put food on the table。 Emmet Ryan had liked the fact that his son had married a physician； but his chauvinistic attitude about a woman's place had somehow or other carried over to his son despite the fact that Cathy made a lot more than Jack did； probably because ophthalmologists were more valuable to society than intelligence analysts。 Or the marketplace thought so； anyway。 Well； she couldn't do what he did； and he couldn't do what she did； and that was that。
At Century House； the uniformed security guard recognized him with a wave and a smile。
〃Good morning； Sir John。〃
〃Hey； Bert。〃 Ryan slid his card into the slot。 The light blinked green； and Jack transited the security gate。 From there； it was just a few steps to the elevator。
Simon Harding was just arriving； too。 The usual greeting： 〃Morning； Jack。〃
〃Hey；〃 Jack grunted in reply on the way to his desk。 There was a manila envelope waiting for him。 The cover tag said it had been messengered over from the U。S。 Embassy in Grosvenor Square。 He ripped the top open to see that it was the report from Hopkins on Mikhail Suslov。 Jack flipped through the pages and saw something he'd forgotten。 Bernie Katz； ever the thorough doc； had evaluated Suslov's diabetes as dangerously advanced； and predicted that his longevity was going to be limited。
〃Here； Simon。 Says here the head mie's sicker than he looks。〃
〃Pity；〃 Harding observed； taking it as he fumbled with his pipe。 〃He's not a very nice chap； you know。〃
〃So I've heard。〃
Next in Ryan's pile were the morning briefing papers。 They were labeled SECRET； which meant that the contents might not be in the newspapers for a day or two。 It was interesting even so； because this document occasionally gave sources； and that sometimes told you if the information was good or not。 Remarkably； not all the data received by the intelligence services was very reliable。 A lot of it could be classified as gossip； because even important people inside the world's government loops indulged in it。 They were jealous and backbiting sons…of… bitches； like anyone else。 Especially in Washington。 Perhaps even more so in Moscow？ He asked Harding。
〃Oh； yes； very much so。 Their society depends so much on status； and the backstabbing can be…well； Jack； you could say that it's their national sport。 I mean； we have it here as well； of course； but over there it can be remarkably vicious。 Rather like it must have been in a medieval court； I imagine…people jockeying for position every bloody day。 The infighting inside their major bureaucracies must be horrific。〃
〃And how does that affect this sort of information？〃
〃I often think I should have read psychology at Oxford。 We have a number of psychiatrists on staff here…as I'm sure you do at Langley。〃
〃Oh； yeah。 I know a few of the pshrinks。 Mainly in my directorate； but some in S and T； too。 We're not as good at that as we ought to be。〃
〃How so； Jack？〃
Ryan stretched in his chair。 〃A couple of months ago； I was talking to one of Cathy's pals at Hopkins； his name's Solomon； neuropsychiatrist。 You'd have to understand Sol。 He's real smart…department chairman and all that。 He doesn't believe much in putting his patients on the couch and talking to them。 He thinks most mental illness es from chemical imbalances in the brain。 They nearly chopped him out of the profession for that but； twenty years later； they all realized that he was right。 Anyway； Sol told me that most politicians are like movie stars。 They surround themselves with sycophants and yes…men and people to whisper nice shit into their ears…and a lot of them start believing it； because they want to believe it。 It's all a great big game to them； but a game where everything is process and damned little of it is product。 They're not like real people。 They don't do any real work； but they appear to。 There's a line in Advise and Consent： Washington is a town where you deal with people not as they are； but as they are reputed to be。 If that's true in Washington； then how much more must it be in Moscow？ There； everything is politics。 It's all symbols； right？ So the infighting and backstabbing must really be wild there。 I figure that has to affect us in two ways。 First； it means that a lot of the data we get is skewed； because the sources of the data either don't know reality even when it jumps up and bites them on the ass； or they twist the data for their own ends as they process it and pass it on…whether consciously or unconsciously。 Second； it means that even the people on the other side who need the data don't know good from bad； so even if we can figure it out； we can't predict what it means because they can't decide for themselves what the hell to do with it…even if they know what the hell it is in the first place。 We here have to analyze faulty information that will probably be incorrectly implemented by the people to whom it's supposed to go。 So； how the hell do we predict what they will do when they themselves don't know the right thing to do？〃
That was worth a grin around the pipe stem。 〃Very good； Jack。 You're starting to catch on。 Very little they do makes any bloody sense； objectively speaking。 However； it isn't all that hard to predict their behavior。 You decide for yourself what the intelligent action is； and then reverse it。 Works every time；〃 Harding laughed。
〃But the other thing Sol said that worries me is that people like that who have power in their hands can be dangerous sons…of…bitches。 They don't know when to stop； and they don't know how to use their power intelligently。 I guess that's how Afghanistan got started。〃
〃Correct。〃 Simon nodded seriously。 〃They are captured by their own ideological illusions； and they can't see their way clear of it。 And the real problem is； they do control a bloody great lot of power。〃
〃I'm missing something in the equation；〃 Ryan said。
〃We all are； Jack。 That's part of the job。〃
It was time to change subjects： 〃Anything new on the Pope？〃
〃Nothing yet today。 If Basil has anything； I ought to hear about it before lunch。 Worried about that？〃
Jack nodded soberly。 〃Yeah。 The problem is； if we do see a real threat； what the hell can we do about it？ It's not like we can put a pany of Marines around him； is it？ Exposed as he is…I mean； he's in public so much that you can't protect him。〃
〃And people like him don't shrink from danger； do they？〃
〃I remember when Martin Luther King got whacked。 Hell； he knew…he must have known…there were guns out there with his name on them。 But he never backed away。 It just wasn't part of his ethos to run and hide。 Won't be any different in Rome； buddy； and every other place he goes。〃
〃Moving targe