tc.redrabbit-第39部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


or　what　a　reasonably　intelligent　man　might　deduce　from　that　information；　given　a　lifetime　of　experience　and　what　he　knew　of　the　psychology　of　his　enemy。　And　even　then　the　enemy　did　not　willingly　cooperate　in　his　own　destruction；　did　he？
　　　That's　my　job；　all　right；　Ryan　thought　behind　blank　eyes。　It　was　a　quest　for　Truth；　but　it　was　more　than　that。　He　had　to　replicate　for　his　own　masters　the　thinking　processes　of　others；　to　explain　them　to　his　own　superiors；　so　that　they；　Ryan's　bosses；　could　better　understand　their　adversaries。　He　was　playing　pshrink　without　a　diploma。　In　a　way；　that　was　amusing。　It　was　less　so　when　you　considered　the　magnitude　of　the　task　and　the　potential　consequences　of　failure。　It　came　down　to　two　words：　dead　people。　In　the　Basic　School　at　Quantico　Marine　Base；　they'd　hammered　the　same　lesson　home　often　enough。　Screw　up　leading　your　platoon；　and　some　of　your　Marines　don't　go　home　to　their　mothers　and　wives；　and　that　would　be　a　heavy　burden　to　carry　on　your　conscience　for　the　rest　of　your　life。　The　profession　of　arms　attached　a　large　price　tag　to　mistakes。　Ryan　hadn't　served　long　enough　to　learn　that　lesson　for　himself；　but　it　had　frightened　him　on　quiet　nights；　feeling　the　roll　of　the　ship　on　her　way　across　the　Atlantic。　He'd　talked　it　over　with　Gunny　Tate；　but　the　sergeant…then　an　〃elderly〃　man　of　thirty…four…had　just　told　him　to　remember　his　training；　trust　his　instincts；　and　to　think　before　acting　if　he　had　the　time；　and　then　warned　that　you　didn't　always　have　the　luxury　of　time。　And　he'd　told　his　young　boss　not　to　worry；　because　he　seemed　pretty　smart　for　a　second　lieutenant。　Ryan　would　never　forget　that。　The　respect　of　a　Marine　gunnery　sergeant　didn't　e　cheaply。
　　　So　he　had　the　brains　to　make　good　intelligence　estimates　and　the　guts　to　put　his　name　behind　them；　but　he　had　to　be　damned　sure　they　were　good　stuff　before　he　put　them　out。　Because　he　was　betting　the　lives　of　other　people；　wasn't　he？
　　　The　train　slowed　to　a　stop。　He　walked　up　the　steps；　and　there　were　a　few　cabs　topside。　Jack　imagined　they　had　the　train　schedule　memorized。
　　　〃Good　evening；　Sir　John。〃　Jack　saw　it　was　Ed　Beaverton；　his　morning　pickup。
　　　〃Hi；　Ed。　You　know；〃　Ryan　said；　getting　into　the　front　seat　for　a　change。　Better　legroom。　〃My　name　is　actually　Jack。〃
　　　〃I　can't　call　you　that；〃　Beaverton　objected。　〃You're　a　knight。〃
　　　〃Only　honorary；　not　a　real　one。　I　do　not　own　a　sword…well；　only　my　Marine　Corps　one；　and　that's　back　home　in　the　States。〃
　　　〃And　you　were　a　lieutenant；　and　I　was　only　a　corporal。〃
　　　〃And　you　jumped　out　of　airplanes。　Damned　if　I　ever　did　anything　that　stupid；　Eddie。〃
　　　〃Only　twenty…eight　times。　Never　broke　anything；〃　the　taxi　driver　reported；　turning　up　the　hill。
　　　〃Not　even　an　ankle？〃
　　　〃Just　a　sprain　or　two。　The　boots　help　with　that；　you　see；〃　the　cabbie　explained。
　　　〃I　haven't　learned　to　like　flying　yet…damned　sure　I'll　never　jump　out　of　an　airplane。〃　No；　Jack　was　sure；　he　never　would　have　opted　for　Force　Recon。　Those　Marines　just　weren't　wired　right。　He'd　learned　the　hard　way　that　flying　over　the　beach　in　helicopters　was　scary　enough。　He　still　had　dreams　about　it…the　sudden　sensation　of　falling；　and　seeing　the　ground　rush　up…but　he　always　woke　up　just　before　impact；　usually　lurching　up　to　a　sitting　position　in　the　bed　and　then　looking　around　the　darkened　bedroom　to　make　sure　he　wasn't　in　that　damned　CH…　46　with　a　bad　aft　rotor；　falling　to　the　rocks　on　Crete。　It　was　a　miracle　that　he　and　a　lot　of　his　Marines　hadn't　been　killed。　But　his　had　been　the　only　major　injury。　The　rest　of　his　platoon　had　gotten　away　with　nothing　worse　than　sprains。
　　　Why　the　hell　are　you　thinking　about　that？　he　demanded　of　himself。　It　was　more　than　eight　years　in　his　past。
　　　They　were　pulling　up　in　front　of　the　house　in　Grizedale　Close。　〃Here　we　are；　sir。〃
　　　Ryan　handed　him　his　fare；　plus　a　friendly　tip。　〃The　name's　Jack；　Eddie。〃
　　　〃Yes；　sir。　I'll　see　you　in　the　morning。〃
　　　〃Roger　that。〃　Ryan　walked　off；　knowing　he'd　never　win　that　battle。　The　front　door　was　unlocked　in　anticipation　of　his　arrival。　His　tie　went　first；　as　he　headed　to　the　kitchen。
　　　〃Daddy！〃　Sally　fairly　screamed；　as　she　ran　to　his　arms。　Jack　scooped　her　up　and　gave　and　got　a　hug。　〃How's　my　big　girl？〃
　　　〃Fine。〃
　　　Cathy　was　at　the　stove；　fixing　dinner。　He　set　Sally　down　and　headed　to　his　wife　for　a　kiss。　〃How　is　it；〃　her　husband　asked；　〃that　you're　always　home　first？　At　home　you're　usually　later。〃
　　　〃Unions；〃　she　replied。　〃Everybody　clocks　out　on　time　here；　and　'on　time'　is　usually　pretty　early…not　like　Hopkins。〃　Where；　she　didn't　add；　just　about　everyone　on　the　professional　staff　worked　late。
　　　〃Must　be　nice　to　work　bankers'　hours。〃
　　　〃Even　dad　doesn't　leave　his　office　this　early；　but　everybody　over　here　does。　And　lunch　means　a　full　hour…half　the　time　away　from　the　hospital。　Well；　〃　she　allowed；　〃the　food's　a　little　better　that　way。〃
　　　〃What's　for　dinner？〃
　　　〃Spaghetti。〃　And　Jack　saw　that　the　pot　was　full　of　her　special　meat　sauce。　He　turned　to　see　a　baguette　of　French　bread　on　the　counter。
　　　〃Where's　the　little　guy？〃
　　　〃Living　room。〃
　　　〃Okay。〃　Ryan　headed　that　way。　Little　Jack　was　in　his　crib。　He'd　just　mastered　sitting　up…it　was　a　little　early　for　that；　but　that　was　fine　with　his　dad。　Around　him　was　a　collection　of　toys；　all　of　which　found　their　way　into　his　mouth。　He　looked　up　to　see　his　father　and　managed　a　toothless　smile。　Of　course；　that　merited　a　pickup；　which　Jack　acplished。　His　diaper　felt　dry　and　fresh。　Doubtless；　Miss　Margaret　had　changed　him　before　scooting　off…as　always；　before　Jack　made　it　home　from　the　shop。　She　was　working　out　fairly　well。　Sally　liked　her；　and　that　was　the　important　part。　He　set　his　son　back　down；　and　the　little　guy　resumed　playing　with　a　plastic　rattle　and　watching　the　TV…especially　the　mercials。　Jack　went　off　to　the　bedroom　to　change　into　more　fortable　clothes；　then　back　to　the　kitchen。　Then　the　doorbell　chimed；　much　to　everyone's　surprise。　Jack　went　to　answer　it。
　　　〃Dr。　Ryan？〃　the　voice　asked　in　American　English。　It　was　a　guy　of　Ryan's　height　and　general　looks；　dressed　in　a　jacket　and　tie；　holding　a　large　box。
　　　〃That's　right。〃
　　　〃I　got　your　STU　for　you；　sir。　I　work　ms　at　the　embassy；〃　the　guy　explained。　〃Mr。　Murray　said　I　should　bring　this　right　over。〃
　　　The　box　was　a　cardboard　cube　about　two　and　a　half　feet　on　a　side；　and　blank；　with　no　printing　on　it。　Ryan　let　the　man　into　the　house　and　led　him　directly　to　his　den。　It　took　about　three　minutes　to　extract　the　oversized　phone　from　the　box。　It　went　next　to　Jack's　Apple　IIe　puter。
　　　〃You're　NSA？〃　Ryan　asked。
　　　〃Yes；　sir。　Civilian。　Used　to　be　in　the　Army　Security　Agency；　E…5。　Got　out　and　got　a　pay　increase　as　a　civilian。　Been　over　here　two　years。　Anyway；　here's　your　encryption　key。〃　He　handed　over　the　plastic　device。　〃You　know　how　these　things　work；　right？〃
　　　〃Oh　yeah。〃　Ryan　nodded。　〃Got　one　on　my　desk　downtown。〃
　　　〃So　you　know　the　rules　about　this。　If　anything　breaks；　you　call　me〃…he　handed　over　his　card…〃and　nobody　but　me　or　one　of　my　people　is　allowed　to　look　at　the　inside。　If　that　happens；　the　system　self…destructs；　of　course。　Won't　start　a　fire　or　anything；　but　it　does　stink　some；　'cause　of　the　plastic。　Anyway；　that's　it。〃　He　broke　down　the　box。　
　　　〃You　want　a　Coke　or　anything？〃
　　　〃No；　thanks。　Gotta　get　home。〃　And　with　that；　the　munications　expert　walked　back　out　the　door　to　his　car。
　　　〃What　was　that；　Jack？〃　Cathy　asked　from　the　kitchen。
　　　〃My　secure　phone；〃　Jack　explained；　returning　to　his　wife's　side。
　　　〃What's　that　for？〃
　　　〃So　I　can　call　home　and　talk　to　my　boss。〃
　　　〃Can't　you　do　that　from　the　office？〃
　　　〃There's　the　time　difference　and；　well；　there　are　some　things　I　can't　talk　about　there。〃
　　　〃Secret…agent　stuff；〃　she　snorted。
　　　〃That's　right。〃　Just　like　the　pistol　he　had　in　his　closet。　Cathy　accepted　the　presence　of　his　Remington　shotgun　with　some　equanimity…he　used　it　for　hunting；　and　she　was　prepared　to　tolerate　that；　since　you　could　cook　and　eat　the　birds；　and　the　shotgun　was　unloaded。　But　she　was　less　fortable　with　a　pistol。　And　so；　like　civilized　married　people；　they　didn't　talk　about　it；　so　long　as　it　was　well　out　of　Sally's　reach；　and　Sally　knew　that　her　father's　closet　was　off…limits。　Ryan　had　gotten　fond　of　his　Browning　Hi…Power　9mm　automatic；　which　was　loaded　with　fourteen　Federal　hollow　point　cartridges　and　two　spare　magazines；　plus　tritium　match　sights　and　custom…made　grips。　If　he　ever　needed　a　pistol　again；　this　would　be　the　one。　He'd　have　to　find　a　place　to　practice　shooting；　Ryan　reminded　himself。　Maybe　the　nearby　Royal　Navy　base　had　a　range。　Sir　Basil　could　probably　make　a　phone　call　and　straighten　it　out。　As　an　honorary　knight；　he　didn't　own　a　sword；　but　a　pistol　was　the　modern　equivalent；　and　it　could　be　a　useful　tool　on　occasion。
　　　So　could　a　corkscrew。　〃Chianti？〃　Ryan　asked。
　　　Cathy　turned。　〃Okay；　I　don't　have　anything　scheduled　for　tomorrow。〃
　　　〃Cath；　I've　never　understood　what　a　glass　or　two　of　wine　tonight　would　have　to　do　with　surgery　tomorrow…it's　ten　or　twelve　hours　away。〃
　　　〃Jack；　you　don't　mix　alcohol　with　surgery；〃　she　explained　patiently。　〃Okay？　You　don't　drink　and　drive。　You　don't　drink　and　cut；　either。　Not　ever。　Not　once。〃
　　　〃Yes；　doctor。　So　tomorrow　you　jus