Jack Ryan 11 - Bear And The Dragon Read Online Free Page A

the metal detector. The papers and cassette were inspected by hand -- as though he'd try to bring a gun in, Ben thought in passing irritation. Well, there had been a few scares, hadn't there? And these people were trained not to trust anybody.
    Having passed the daily security test, he turned left, sprinted up the stairs, then left again to his office, where some helpful soul -- he didn't know if it was one of the clerical staff or maybe one of the Service people -- had his office coffee machine turning out some Gloria Jean's French Hazelnut. He poured himself a cup and sat down at his desk to organize his papers and his thoughts. He managed to down half of the cup before bundling it all up again for the ninety-foot walk. The Boss was already there.
    “Morning, Ben.”
    “Good morning, Mr. President,” replied the National Security Adviser.
    “Okay, what's new in the world?” POTUS asked.
    “It looks as though somebody might have tried to assassinate Sergey Golovko this morning.”
    “Oh?” President Ryan asked, looking up from his coffee. Goodley filled him in, then inserted the cassette in the Oval Office VCR and punched PLAY.
    “Jeez,” Ryan observed. What had been an expensive car was now fit only for the crushing machine. “Who'd they get instead?”
    “One Gregoriy Filipovich Avseyenko, age fifty-two -- ”
    “I know that name. Where from?”
    “He's more widely known as Rasputin. He used to run the KGB Sparrow School.”
    Ryan's eyes went a little wider. “That cocksucker! Okay, what's the story on him?”
    “He got RIF'd back in '93 or so, and evidently set himself up in the same business, and it would seem he's made some money at it, judging by his car, anyway. There was evidently a young woman in with him when he was killed, plus a driver. They were all killed.”
    Ryan nodded. The Sparrow School had been where for years the Soviets had trained attractive young women to be prostitutes in the service of their country both at home and abroad, because, since time immemorial, men with a certain weakness for women had often found their tongues loosened by the right sort of lubrication. Not a few secrets had been conveyed to the KGB by this method, and the women had also been useful in recruiting various foreign nationals for the KGB officers to exploit. So, on having his official office shut down, Rasputin -- so called by the Soviets for his ability to get women to bend to his will -- had simply plied his trade in the new free-enterprise environment.
    “So, Avseyenko might have had 'business' enemies angry enough to take him out, and Golovko might not have been the target at all?”
    “Correct, Mr. President. The possibility exists, but we don't have any supporting data one way or the other.”
    “How do we get it?”
    “The Legal Attaché at the embassy is well connected with the Russian police,” the National Security Adviser offered.
    “Okay, call Dan Murray at FBI and have his man nose around,” Ryan said. He'd already considered calling Golovko directly -- they'd known each other for more than ten years, though one of their initial contacts had involved Golovko's pistol right in Jack's face on one of the runways of Moscow's Sheremetyevo Airport -- and decided against it. He couldn't show that much immediate interest, though later, if they had a private moment together, he'd be able to ask a casual question about the incident. “Same for Ed and MP at CIA.”
    “Right.” Goodley made a note.
    “Next?”
    Goodley turned the page. “Indonesia is doing some naval exercises that have the Aussies a little interested...” Ben went on with the morning briefing for twenty more minutes, mainly covering political rather than military matters, because that's what national security had become in recent years. Even the international arms trade had diminished to the point that quite a few countries were treating their national military establishments as boutiques rather than serious instruments of