tc.patriotgames-第6部分

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　　　　〃My　family's　all　right？〃
　　　　Wilson　smiled　in　rather　an　odd　way。　〃They　are　being　very　well　looked　after。　Doctor　Ryan。　You　have　my　word　on　that。〃　
　　　　〃The　name's　Jack。〃
　　　　〃Fine。　I'm　known　to　my　friends　as　Tony。〃　They　finally　got　around　to　shaking　hands。　〃And　as　I　said；　you're　a　bloody　hero。　Care　to　see　what　the　press　have　to　say？〃　He　handed　Ryan　a　Daily　Mirror　and　a　Times。　
　　　　〃Dear　God！〃
　　　　The　tabloid　Mirror's　front　page　was　almost　entirely　a　color　photograph　of　himself；　sitting　unconscious　against　the　Rolls。　His　chest　was　a　scarlet　mass。　
ATTEMPT　ON　HRH　　MARINE　TO　THE　RESCUE

　　　　A　bold　attempt　to　assassinate　Their　Royal　Highnesses　the　Prince　and　Princess　of　Wales　within　sight　of　Buckingham　Palace　was　thwarted　today　by　the　courage　of　an　American　tourist。
　　　　John　Patrick　Ryan；　an　historian　and　formerly　a　lieutenant　in　the　United　States　Marines；　dashed　barehanded　into　a　pitched　battle　on　The　Mall　as　over　a　hundred　Londoners　watched　in　shocked　disbelief。　Ryan；　31；　of　Annapolis；　Maryland；　successfully　disabled　one　gunman　and；　taking　his　weapon；　shot　another　dead。　Ryan　himself　was　seriously　wounded　in　the　exchange。　He　was　taken　by　ambulance　to　St。　Thomas's　Hospital；　where　emergency　surgery　was　successfully　performed　by　Sir　Charles　Scott。
　　　　A　third　terrorist　is　reported　to　have　escaped　the　scene；　by　running　east　on　The　Mall；　then　turning　north　on　Marlborough　Road。
　　　　Senior　police　officials　were　unanimous　in　their　opinion　that；　but　for　Ryan's　courageous　intervention。　Their　Highnesses　would　certainly　have　been　slain。

　　　　Ryan　turned　the　page　to　see　another　color　photograph　of　himself　in　happier　circumstances。　It　was　his　graduation　photo　from　Quantico；　and　he　had　to　smile　at　himself；　resplendent；　then；　in　blue　high…necked　blouse；　two　shiny　gold　bars；　and　the　Mamaluke　sword。　It　was　one　of　the　few　decent　photographs　ever　taken　of　him。
　　　　〃Where　did　they　get　this？〃
　　　　〃Oh；　your　Marine　chaps　were　most　helpful。　In　fact；　one　of　your　Marine　ships　　helicopter　carrier；　or　something　like　that　　is　at　Portsmouth　right　now。　I　understand　that　your　former　colleagues　are　getting　all　the　free　beer　they　can　swill。〃
　　　　Ryan　laughed　at　that。　Next　he　picked　up　the　Times；　whose　headline　was　marginally　less　lurid。

The　Prince　and　Princess　of　Wales　escaped　certain　death　this　afternoon。　Three；　possibly　four　terrorists　armed　with　hand　grenades　and　Kalashnikov　assault　rifles　lay　in　wait　for　their　Rolls…Royce；　only　to　have　their　carefully…laid　plans　foiled　by　the　bold　intervention　of　J。　P。　Ryan；　formerly　a　second　lieutenant　in　the　United　States　Marine　Corps；　and　now　an　historian　。　。　。　

　　　　Ryan　flipped　to　the　editorial　page。　The　lead　item；　signed　by　the　publisher；　screamed　for　vengeance　while　praising　Ryan；　America；　and　the　United　States　Marine　Corps；　and　thanked　Divine　Providence　with　a　flourish　worthy　of　a　Papal　Encyclical。
　　　　〃Reading　about　yourself？〃　Ryan　looked　up。　Sir　Charles　Scott　was　standing　at　the　foot　of　his　bed　with　an　aluminum　chart。　
　　　　〃First　time　I　ever　made　the　papers。〃　Ryan　set　them　down。
　　　　〃You've　earned　it；　and　it　would　seem　that　the　sleep　did　you　some　good。　How　do　you　feel？〃　
　　　　〃Not　bad；　considering。　How　am　I？〃　Ryan　asked。
　　　　〃Pulse　and　temperature　normal　　almost　normal。　Your　color　isn't　bad　at　all。　With　luck　we　might　even　avoid　a　postoperative　infection；　though　I　should　not　wish　to　give　odds　on　that；〃　the　doctor　said。　〃How　badly　does　it　hurt？〃　
　　　　〃It's　there；　but　I　can　live　with　it；〃　Ryan　answered　cautiously。
　　　　〃It　is　only　two　hours　since　your　last　medication。　I　trust　you　are　not　one　of　those　thickheaded　fools　who　do　not　want　pain　medications？〃
　　　　〃Yes；　I　am；〃　Ryan　said。　He　went　on　slowly。　〃Doctor；　I've　been　through　this　twice　before。　The　first　time；　they　gave　me　too　much　of　the　stuff；　and　ing　off　was　　I'd　just　as　soon　not　go　through　that　again；　if　you　know　what　I　mean。〃
　　　　Ryan's　career　in　the　Marine　Corps　had　ended　after　a　mere　three　months　with　a　helicopter　crash　on　the　shores　of　Crete　during　a　NATO　exercise。　The　resulting　back　injury　had　sent　Ryan　to　Bethesda　Naval　Medical　Center；　outside　Washington；　where　the　doctors　had　been　a　little　too　generous　with　their　pain　medications；　and　Ryan　had　taken　two　weeks　to　get　over　them。　It　was　not　an　experience　he　wanted　to　repeat。
　　　　Sir　Charles　nodded　thoughtfully。　〃I　think　so。　Well；　it's　your　arm。〃　The　nurse　came　back　in　as　he　made　some　notations　on　the　chart。　〃Rotate　the　bed　a　bit。〃
　　　　Ryan　hadn't　noticed　that　the　rack　from　which　his　arm　hung　was　actually　circular。　As　the　head　of　the　bed　came　up；　his　arm　dropped　to　a　more　fortable　angle。　The　doctor　looked　over　his　glasses　at　Ryan's　fingers。
　　　　〃Would　you　wiggle　them；　please？〃　Ryan　did　so。　〃Good；　that's　very　good。　I　didn't　think　there'd　be　any　nerve　damage。　Doctor　Ryan；　I　am　going　to　prescribe　something　mild；　just　enough　to　keep　the　edge　off　it。　I　will　require　that　you　take　the　medications　which　I　prescribe。〃　Scott's　head　came　around　to　face　Ryan　directly。　〃I've　never　yet　got　a　patient　addicted　to　narcotics；　and　I　do　not　propose　to　start　with　you。　Don't　be　pigheaded：　pain；　disfort　will　retard　your　recovery　　unless；　that　is；　you　want　to　remain　in　hospital　for　several　months？〃　
　　　　〃Message　received；　Sir　Charles。〃
　　　　〃Right。〃　The　surgeon　smiled。　〃If　you　should　feel　the　need　for　something　stronger；　I　shall　be　here　all　day。　Just　ring　nurse　Miss　Kittiwake　here。〃　The　girl　beamed　in　anticipation。　
　　　　〃How　about　something　to　eat？〃　
　　　　〃You　think　you　can　keep　something　down？〃
　　　　If　not；　Kittiwake　will　probably　love　to　help　me　throw　up。　〃Doc；　in　the　last　thirty…six　hours　I've　had　a　continental　breakfast　and　a　light　lunch。〃
　　　　〃Very　well。　We'll　try　some　soft　foods。〃　He　made　another　notation　on　the　chart　and　flashed　a　look　to　Kittiwake：　Keep　an　eye　on　him。　She　nodded。
　　　　〃Your　charming　wife　told　me　that　you　are　quite　obstinate。　We'll　see　about　that。　Still　and　all　you　are　doing　rather　nicely。　You　can　thank　your　physical　condition　for　that　　and　my　outstanding　surgical　skill；　of　course。〃　Scott　chuckled　to　himself。　〃After　breakfast　an　orderly　will　help　you　freshen　up　for　your　more；　ah；　official　visitors。　Oh；　don't　expect　to　see　your　family　soon。　They　were　quite　exhausted　last　night。　I　gave　your　wife　something　to　help　her　sleep；　I　hope　she　took　it。　Your　darling　little　daughter　was　all　done　in。〃　Scott　gave　Ryan　a　serious　look。　〃I　was　not　misleading　you　earlier。　Disfort　will　slow　your　recovery。　Do　what　I　tell　you　and　we'll　have　you　out　of　that　bed　in　a　week；　and　discharged　in　two　　perhaps。　But　you　must　do　exactly　as　I　say。〃　
　　　　〃Understood；　sir。　And　thanks。　Cathy　said　you　did　a　good　job　on　the　arm。〃
　　　　Scott　tried　to　shrug　it　off。　The　smile　showed　only　a　little。　〃One　must　take　proper　care　of　one's　guests。　I'll　be　back　late　this　afternoon　to　see　how　you　are　progressing。〃　He　left；　mumbling　instructions　to　the　nurse。

　　　　The　police　arrived　in　force　at　8：30。　By　this　time　Ryan　had　been　able　to　eat　his　hospital　breakfast　and　wash　up。　Breakfast　had　been　a　huge　disappointment；　with　Wilson　collapsing　in　laughter　at　Ryan's　ment　on　its　appearance　　but　Kittiwake　had　been　so　downcast　from　this　that　Ryan　had　felt　constrained　to　eat　all　of　it；　even　the　stewed　prunes　that　he'd　loathed　since　childhood。　Only　after　finishing　had　he　realized　that　her　demeanor　had　probably　been　a　sham；　a　device　to　get　him　to　eat　all　the　slop。　Nurses；　he　reminded　himself；　are　tricky。　At　eight　the　orderly　had　arrived　to　help　him　clean　up。　Ryan　shaved　himself；　with　the　orderly　holding　the　mirror　and　clucking　every　time　he　nicked　himself。　Four　nicks　　Ryan　customarily　used　an　electric　shaver；　and　hadn't　faced　a　bare　blade　in　years。　By　8：30　Ryan　felt　and　looked　human　again。　Kittiwake　had　brought　in　a　second　cup　of　coffee。　It　wasn't　very　good；　but　it　was　still　coffee。
　　　　There　were　three　police　officers；　very　senior　ones；　Ryan　thought；　from　the　way　Wilson　snapped　to　his　feet　and　scurried　about　to　arrange　chairs　for　them　before　excusing　himself　out　the　door。
　　　　James　Owens　appeared　to　be　the　most　senior；　and　inquired　as　to　Ryan's　condition　　politely　enough　that　he　probably　meant　it。　He　reminded　Ryan　of　his　own　father；　a　craggy；　heavyset　man；　and；　judging　from　his　large；　gnarled　hands；　one　who　had　earned　his　way　to　mander's　rank　after　more　than　a　few　years　of　walking　the　streets　and　enforcing　the　law　the　hard　way。
　　　　Chief　Superintendent　William　Taylor　was　about　forty；　younger　than　his　Anti…Terrorist　Branch　colleague；　and　neater。　Both　senior　detectives　were　well　dressed；　and　both　had　the　red…rimmed　eyes　that　came　from　an　uninterrupted　night's　work。
　　　　David　Ashley　was　the　youngest　and　best　dressed　of　the　three。　About　Ryan's　size　and　weight；　perhaps　five　years　older。　He　described　himself　as　a　representative　of　the　Home　Office；　and　he　looked　a　great　deal　smoother　than　either　of　the　others。
　　　　〃You're　quite　certain　you're　up　to　this？〃　Taylor　asked。　
　　　　Ryan　shrugged。　〃No　sense　waiting。〃
　　　　Owens　took　a　cassette　tape　recorder　from　his　portfolio　and　set　it　on　the　bedstand。　He　plugged　in　two　microphones；　one　facing　Ryan；　the　other　toward　the　officers。　He　punched　the　record　button　and　announced　the　date；　time；　and　place。
　　　　〃Doctor　Ryan；〃　Owens　asked　formally；　〃do　you　know　that　this　interview　is　being　recorded？〃　
　　　　〃Yes；　sir。〃　
　　　　〃And　do　you　have　any　objection　to　this？〃　
　　　　〃No；　sir。　May　I　ask　a　question？〃　
　　　　〃Certainly；〃　Owens　answered。
　　　　〃Am　I　being　charged　with　anything？　If　so；　I　would　like　to　contact　my　embassy　and　have　an　attor　〃　Ryan　was　more　than　a　little　uneasy　to　be　the　focus　of　so　much　high…level　police　attention；　but　was　cut　off　by　the　chuckles　of　Mr。　Ashley。　He　noted　that　the　other　police　officers　deferred　to　him　for　the　answer。
　　　　〃Doctor　Ryan；　you　may　just　have　things　the　wrong　way　'round。　For　the　record；　sir；　we　have　no　intention　whatever　of　charging　you　with　anything。　Were　we　to　do　so；　I　dare　say　we'd　be　looking　for　new　employment　by　day's　end。〃
　　　　Ryan　nodded；　not　showing　his　relief。　He'd　not　yet　been　sure　of　this；　sure　only　that　the　law　doesn't　have　to　make　sense。　Owens　began　reading　his　questions　from　a　yellow　pad。　
　　　　〃Can　you　give　us　your　name　and　address；　please？〃　
　　　　〃John　Patrick　Ryan。　Our　mailing　address　is　Annapolis；　Maryland。　Our　home　is　at　Peregrine　Cliff；　about　ten　miles　south　of