tc.patriotgames-第31部分

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　　　　〃I　gotta　admire　your　timing。　Jack。　You　made　it　back　almost　in　time　for　Christmas　break；〃　Skip　observed　as　everyone　got　in　the　car。
　　　　〃I　didn't　exactly　plan　it　that　way；〃　Jack　objected。　
　　　　〃How's　the　shoulder？〃　
　　　　〃Better'n　it　was；　guy。〃
　　　　〃I　believe　it；〃　Tyler　laughed　as　he　pulled　away　from　the　terminal。　〃I　was　surprised　they　got　you　on　the　Concorde。　How'd　you　like　it？〃　
　　　　〃It's　over　a　lot　faster。〃　
　　　　〃Yeah；　that's　what　they　say。〃
　　　　〃How　are　things　going　at　school？〃
　　　　〃Ah；　nothing　ever　changes。　You　heard　about　The　Game？〃　Tyler's　head　came　around。
　　　　〃No；　as　a　matter　of　fact。〃　How　did　I　ever　forget　about　that？
　　　　〃Absolutely　great。　Five　points　down　with　three　minutes　left；　we　recover　a　fumble　on　our　twelve。　Thompson　finally　gets　it　untracked　and　starts　hitting　sideline　patterns　　boom；　boom；　boom；　eight…ten　yards　a　pop。　Then　he　pulls　a　draw　play　that　gets　us　to　the　thirty。　Army　changes　its　defense；　right？　So　we　go　to　a　spread。　I'm　up　in　the　press　box；　and　I　see　their　strong…side　safety　is　favoring　the　outside　　figures　we　gotta　stop　the　clock　　and　we　call　a　post　for　the　tight　end。　Like　a　charm！　Thompson　couldn't　have　handed　him　the　ball　any　better！　Twenty…one　to　nineteen。　What　a　way　to　end　the　season。〃
　　　　Tyler　was　an　Annapolis　graduate　who'd　made　second…string　All…American　at　offensive　tackle　before　entering　the　submarine　service。　Three　years　before；　when　he'd　been　on　the　threshold　of　his　own　mand　a　drunk　driver　had　left　him　without　half　his　leg。　Amazingly；　Skip　hadn't　looked　back。　After　taking　his　doctorate　in　engineering　from　MIT；　he'd　joined　the　faculty　at　Annapolis；　where　he　was　also　able　to　scout　and　do　a　little　coaching　in　the　football　program。　Jack　wondered　how　much　happier　Jean　was　now。　A　lovely　girl　who　had　once　worked　as　a　legal　secretary；　she　must　have　resented　Skip's　enforced　absences　on　submarine　duty。　Now　she　had　him　home　　surely　he　wasn't　straying　far；　it　seemed　that　Jean　was　always　pregnant　　and　they　were　rarely　separated。　Even　when　they　walked　in　the　shopping　malls。　Skip　and　Jean　held　hands。　If　anyone　found　it　humorous；　he　kept　his　peace　about　it。　
　　　　〃What　are　you　doing　about　a　Christmas　tree。　Jack？〃　
　　　　〃I　haven't　thought　about　it；〃　Ryan　admitted。
　　　　〃I　found　a　place　where　we　can　cut　'em　fresh。　I'm　going　over　tomorrow。　Wanna　e？〃　
　　　　〃Sure。　We　have　some　shopping　to　do；　too；〃　he　added　quietly。
　　　　〃Boy；　you've　really　been　out　of　it。　Cathy　called　last　week。　Jean　and　I　finished　up　the；　uh；　the　important　part。　Didn't　she　tell　you？〃　
　　　　〃No。〃　Ryan　turned　to　see　his　wife　smile　at　him。　Gotcha！　〃Thanks；　Skip。〃
　　　　〃Ah。〃　Tyler　waved　his　hand　as　they　pulled　onto　the　D。C。　beltway。　〃We're　going　up　to　Jean's　family's　place　　last　chance　for　her　to　travel　before　the　twins　arrive。　And　Professor　Billings　says　you　have　a　little　work　waiting　for　you。〃　
　　　　A　little；　Ryan　thought。　More　like　two　months'　worth。　
　　　　〃When　are　you　going　to　be　able　to　start　back　to　work？〃
　　　　〃It'll　have　to　wait　until　he　gets　the　cast　off；〃　Cathy　answered　for　Jack。　〃I'll　be　taking　Jack　to　Baltimore　tomorrow　to　see　about　that。　We'll　get　Professor　Hawley　to　check　him　out。〃　
　　　　〃No　sense　hurrying　with　that　kind　of　injury；〃　Skip　acknowledged。　He　had　ample　personal　experience　with　that　sort　of　thing。　〃Robby　says　hi。　He　couldn't　make　it。　He's　down　at　Pax　River　today　on　a　flight　simulator；　learning　to　be　an　airedale　again。　Rob　and　Sissy　are　doing　fine；　they　were　just　over　the　house　night　before　last。　You　picked　a　good　weather　day；　too。　Rained　most　of　last　week。〃
　　　　Home；　Jack　told　himself　as　he　listened。　Back　to　the　mundane；　day…to…day　crap　that　grates　on　you　so　much　　until　somebody　takes　it　away　from　you。　It　was　so　nice　to　be　back　to　a　situation　where　rain　was　a　major　annoyance；　and　one's　day　was　marked　by　waking　up；　working；　eating；　and　going　back　to　bed。　Catching　things　on　television；　and　football　games。　The　ics　in　the　daily　paper。　Helping　his　wife　with　the　wash。　Curling　up　with　a　book　and　a　glass　of　wine　after　Sally　was　put　to　bed。　Jack　promised　himself　that　he'd　never　find　this　a　dull　existence　again。　He'd　just　spent　over　a　month　on　the　fast　track；　and　was　grateful　that　he'd　left　it　three　thousand　miles　behind　him。

　　　　〃Good　evening；　Mr。　Cooley。〃　Kevin　O'Donnell　looked　up　from　his　menu。
　　　　〃Hello；　Mr。　Jameson。　How　nice　to　see　you；〃　the　book　dealer　replied　with　well…acted　surprise。　
　　　　〃Won't　you　join　me？〃　
　　　　〃Why；　yes。　Thank　you。〃　
　　　　〃What　brings　you　into　town？〃
　　　　〃Business。　I'm　staying　overnight　with　friends　at　Cobh。〃　This　was　true；　it　also　told　O'Donnell　　known　locally　as　Michael　Jameson　　that　he　had　the　latest　message　with　him。
　　　　〃Care　to　look　at　the　menu？〃　O'Donnell　handed　it　over。　Cooley　inspected　it　briefly；　closed　it；　and　handed　it　back。　No　one　could　have　seen　the　transfer。　〃Jameson〃　let　the　small　envelope　inside　the　folder　drop　to　his　lap。　The　conversation　which　ensued　over　the　next　hour　drifted　through　various　pleasantries。　There　were　four　Gardai　in　the　next　booth；　and　in　any　case　Mr。　Cooley　did　not　concern　himself　with　operational　matters。　His　job　was　that　of　contact　agent　and　cutout。　A　weak　man；　O'Donnell　thought；　though　he'd　never　told　this　to　anyone。　Cooley　didn't　have　the　right　qualities　for　real　operations；　he　was　better　suited　to　the　role　of　intelligence。　Not　that　he'd　ever　asked；　and　surely　the　smaller　man　had　passed　through　training　well　enough。　His　ideology　was　sound；　but　O'Donnell　had　always　sensed　within　him　a　weakness　of　character　that　acpanied　his　cleverness。　No　matter。　Cooley　was　a　man　with　no　record　in　any　police　station。　He'd　never　even　thrown　a　rock；　much　less　a　cocktail；　at　a　Saracen。　He'd　preferred　to　watch　and　let　his　hate　fester　without　an　emotional　release。　Quiet；　bookish；　and　unobtrusive；　Dennis　was　perfect　for　his　job。　If　Cooley　was　unable　to　shed　blood；　O'Donnell　knew；　he　was　also　unlikely　to　shed　tears。　You　bland　little　fellow；　you　can　organize　a　superb　intelligence…gathering　operation；　and　so　long　as　you　don't　have　to　do　any　of　the　wet…work　yourself；　you　can　　you　have　helped　cause　the　death　of　。　。　。　ten　or　twelve；　wasn't　it？　Did　the　man　have　any　emotions　at　all？　Probably　not；　the　leader　judged。　Perfect。　He　had　his　own　little　Himmler；　O'Donnell　told　himself　　or　maybe　Dzerzhinsky　would　be　a　more　apt　role　model。　Yes；　〃Iron　Feliks〃　Dzerzhinsky：　that　malignant；　effective　little　man。　It　was　only　the　round；　puffy　face　that　reminded　him　of　the　Nazi　Himmler　　and　a　man　couldn't　choose　his　looks；　could　he？　Cooley　had　a　future　in　the　Organization。　When　the　time　came；　they'd　need　a　real　Dzerzhinsky。
　　　　They　finished　their　talking　over　after…dinner　coffee。　Cooley　picked　up　the　check。　He　insisted：　business　was　excellent。　O'Donnell　pocketed　the　envelope　and　left　the　restaurant。　He　resisted　the　urge　to　read　the　report。　Kevin　was　a　man　to　whom　patience　came　hard；　and　as　a　consequence　he　forced　himself　to　it。　Impatience　had　ruined　more　operations　than　the　British　Army　ever　had；　he　knew。　Another　lesson　from　his　early　days　with　the　Proves。　He　drove　his　BMW　through　the　old　streets　at　the　legal　limit；　leaving　the　town　behind　as　he　entered　the　narrow　country　roads　to　his　home　on　the　headlands。　He　did　not　take　a　direct　route；　and　kept　an　eye　on　his　mirror。　O'Donnell　knew　that　his　security　was　excellent。　He　also　knew　that　continued　vigilance　was　the　reason　it　remained　so。　His　expensive　car　was　registered　to　his　corporation's　head　office　in　Dundalk。　It　was　a　real　business；　with　nine　blue…water　trawlers　that　dragged　purse…seine　nets　through　the　cold　northern　waters　that　surrounded　the　British　Isles。　The　business　had　an　excellent　general　manager；　a　man　who　had　never　been　involved　in　the　Troubles　and　whose　skills　allowed　O'Donnell　to　live　the　life　of　a　country　gentleman　far　to　the　south。　The　tradition　of　absentee　ownership　was　an　old　one　in　Ireland　　like　O'Donnell's　home；　a　legacy　from　the　English。
　　　　It　took　just　under　an　hour　to　reach　the　private　driveway　marked　by　a　pair　of　stone　pillars；　and　another　five　minutes　to　reach　the　house　over　the　sea。　Like　any　mon　man；　O'Donnell　parked　his　car　in　the　open；　the　carriage　house　that　was　attached　to　the　manor　had　been　converted　to　offices　by　a　local　contractor。　He　went　at　once　to　his　study。　McKenney　was　waiting　for　him　there；　reading　a　recent　edition　of　Yeats'　poetry。　Another　bookish　lad；　though　he　did　not　share　Cooley's　aversion　to　the　sight　of　blood。　His　quiet；　disciplined　demeanor　concealed　an　explosive　capacity　for　action。　A　man　very　like　O'Donnell　himself；　Michael　was。　Like　the　O'Donnell　often　or　twelve　years　before；　his　youth　needed　tempering；　hence　his　assignment　as　chief　of　intelligence　so　that　he　could　learn　the　value　of　deliberation；　of　gathering　all　the　information　he　could　get　before　he　mitted　himself　to　action。　The　Proves　never　really　did　that。　They　used　tactical　intelligence；　but　not　the　strategic　kind　　a　fine　explanation；　O'Donnell　thought；　for　the　mindlessness　of　their　overall　strategy。　Another　of　the　reasons　he　had　left　the　Provisionals　　but　he　would　return　to　the　fold。　Or　more　properly；　the　fold　would　return　to　him。　Then　he　would　have　his　army。　Kevin　already　had　his　plan；　though　not　even　his　closest　associates　knew　it　　at　least　not　all　of　it。
　　　　O'Donnell　sat　in　the　leather　chair　behind　the　desk　and　took　the　envelope　from　his　coat　pocket。　McKenney　discreetly　went　to　the　corner　bar　and　got　his　superior　a　glass　of　whiskey。　With　ice；　a　taste　Kevin　had　acquired　in　hotter　climes　several　years　before。　He　set　the　glass　on　the　desk；　and　O'Donnell　took　it；　sipping　off　a　tiny　bit　without　a　word。
　　　　There　were　six　pages　to　the　document；　and　O'Donnell　read　through　the　single…spaced　pages　as　slowly　and　deliberately　as　McKenney　had　just　been　doing　with　the　words　of　Yeats。　The　younger　man　marveled　at　the　man's　patience。　For　all　his　reputation　as　a　fighter　capable　of　ruthless　action；　the　chief　of　the　ULA　often　seemed　a　creature　made　of　stone；　the　way　he　would　assemble　and　process　data。　Like　a　puter；　but　a　malignant　one。　He　took　fully　twenty　minutes　to　go　through　the　six　pages。
　　　　〃Well；　our　friend　Ryan　is　back　in　America；　where　he　belongs。　Flew　the　Concorde　home；　and　his　wife　arranged　for　a　friend　to　meet　them　at　the　airport。　Next　Monday　I　expect　he'll　be　back　teaching　those　fine　young　men　and　women　at　their　Naval　Academy。〃　O'Donnell　sm