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tc.patriotgames-第51部分

小说: tc.patriotgames 字数: 每页4000字

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derlying leather was actually black。 His brass shone like stainless steel; and his hair was cut so close that if any gray were in there; the casual observer could never have seen it。 He had begun his career as an ordinary rifleman; been an Embassy Marine and a Sea Marine。 He had taught marksmanship at the sniper school; been a drill instructor at Parris Island and an。 officer instructor at Quantico。
    When the Marine detail at the Academy had been augmented; Breckenridge had been the divisional Sergeant Major at Camp LeJeune; and it was said that when he left Annapolis; he would plete his thirty…year tour of duty as Sergeant Major of the Corps; with an office adjoining that of the mandant。 His presence at Annapolis was no accident。 As he walked about the campus; Breckenridge was himself an eloquent and unspoken challenge to whichever midshipman might still be undecided on his career goals: Don't even think about being a Marine officer unless you are fit to mand a man like this。 It was the sort of challenge that few mids could walk away from。 The Marine force that backed up the civilian guards was technically under the mand of a captain。 In fact; as was so often the case with the Corps; the Captain had the good sense to let Breckenridge run things。 The traditions of the Corps were not passed on by officers; but rather by the professional NCOs who were the conservators of it all。
    As Ryan and Jackson watched; the Sergeant Major took a fresh pistol from a cardboard box and slipped a clip into it。 He fired two rounds; then checked his target through a spotting scope。 Frowning; he pulled a tiny screwdriver from his shirt pocket and made an adjustment to the sights。 Two more rounds; check; another adjustment。 Two more shots。 The pistol was now perfectly sighted; and went back into the manufacturer's box。 
    〃How's it going; Gunny?〃 Robby asked。
    〃Good afternoon; mander;〃 Breckenridge said agreeably。 His southern Mississippi accent spilled across the naked concrete floor。 〃And how are you today; sir?〃
    〃No plaints。 I got somebody I want you to meet。 This here's Jack Ryan。〃
    They shook hands。 Unlike Skip Tyler; Breckenridge was a man who understood and disciplined his strength。
    〃Howdy。 You're the guy was in the papers。〃 Breckenridge examined Ryan like a fresh boot。 
    〃That's right。〃
    〃Pleased to meet you; sir。 I know the guy who ran you through Quantico。〃 
    Ryan laughed。 〃And how is Son of Kong?〃
    〃Willie's retired now。 He runs a sporting goods store down in Roanoke。 He remembers you。 Says you were pretty sharp for a college boy; and I imagine you remember mosta what he taught you。〃 Breckenridge gazed down at Jack with a look of benign satisfaction; as though Ryan's action in London was renewed proof that everything the Marine Corps said and did; everything to which he had dedicated his life; really meant something。 He would not have believed otherwise in any case; but incidents like this further enhanced his belief in the image of the Corps。 〃If the papers got things straight; you did right well。 Lieutenant。〃 
    〃Not all that well。 Sergeant Major 〃
    〃Gunny;〃 Breckenridge corrected。 〃Everybody calls me Gunny。〃
    〃After it was all over;〃 Ryan went on; 〃I shook like a baby's rattle。〃
    Breckenridge was amused by this。 〃Hell; sir; we all do that。 What counts is gettin' the job done。 What es after don't matter a damn。 So; what can I do for you gentlemen? You want a few rounds of small…bore practice?〃
    Jackson explained what the FBI agent had said。 The Sergeant Major's face darkened; the jaw set。 After a moment he shook his head。
    〃You're sweatin' this; eh? Can't say that I blame you; Lieutenant。 'Terrorists!' 〃 he snorted。 〃A 'terrorist' is a punk with a machine gun。 That's all; just a well…armed punk。 It doesn't take much to shoot somebody in the back or hose down an airport waiting room。 So。 Lieutenant; you'll be thinkin' about carrying some protection; right? And maybe something at home。〃 
    〃I don't know 。 。 。 but I guess you're the man to see。〃 Ryan hadn't thought about it yet; but it was clear that Robby had。 
    〃How'd you do at Quantico?〃
    〃I qualified with the 。45 automatic and the M…16。 Nothing spectacular; but I qualified。〃
    〃Do you do any shootin' now; sir?〃 Breckenridge asked with a frown。 Just qualifying wasn't a very hopeful sign to a serious marksman。
    〃I usually get my quota of ducks and geese。 I missed out this season; though;〃 Jack admitted。 
    〃Uplands game?〃
    〃I had two good afternoons after dove in September。 I'm a pretty fair wing…shot; Gunny。 I use a Remington 1100 automatic; 12…gauge。〃
    Breckenridge nodded。 〃Good for a start。 That's your at…home gun。 Nothing beats a shotgun at close range  short of a flamethrower; that is。〃 The Sergeant Major smiled。 〃You have a deer/slug barrel? No? Well; you're gonna get one of those。 It's twenty inches or so; with a cylinder bore and rifle…type sights。 You pull the magazine plug; and you got five…round capacity。 Now most people'll tell you to use double…ought buck; but I like number four better。 More pellets; and you're not giving any range away。 You can still hit out to eighty; ninety yards; and that's all you'll ever need。 The important thing is; anything you hit with buckshot's goin' down  period。〃 He paused。 〃As a matter of fact; I might be able to get you some flechette rounds。〃 
    〃What's that?〃 Ryan asked。
    〃It's an experimental thing they foolin' with down at Quantico for military police use; and maybe at the embassies。 Instead of lead pellets; you shoot sixty or so darts; about three…caliber diameter; like little arrows。 You gotta see what those little buggers do to believe it。 Nasty。 So that'll take care of home。 Now; you gonna want to carry a handgun with you?〃
    Ryan thought about that。 It would mean getting a permit。 He thought he could apply to the state police for one 。 。 。 or maybe to a certain federal agency。 Already his mind was mulling over that question。
    〃Maybe;〃 he said finally。
    〃Okay。 Let's do a little experiment。〃 Breckenridge walked into his office。 He returned a minute later with a cardboard box。
    〃Lieutenant; this here's a High…Standard target pistol; a 。22 built on a 。45 frame。〃 The Sergeant Major handed it over。 Ryan took it; ejected the magazine; and pulled the slide back to make sure the pistol was unloaded。 Breckenridge watched and nodded approvingly。 Jack had been taught range safety by his father twenty years before。 After that he fitted the weapon in his hand; then sighted down the range to get used to the feel。 Every gun is a little different。 This was a target pistol; with nice balance and pretty good sights。
    〃Feels okay;〃 Ryan said。 〃Little lighter than a Colt; though。〃 
    〃This'll make it heavier。〃 Breckenridge handed over a loaded clip。 〃That's five rounds。 Insert the clip in the weapon; but do not chamber a round until I tell you; sir。〃 The Sergeant Major was accustomed to giving orders to officers; and knew how to do so politely。 〃Step to lane four。 Relax。 It's a nice day in the park; okay?〃
    〃Yeah。 That's how this whole mess started;〃 Ryan observed wryly。
    The Gunny walked over to the switch panel and extinguished most of the lights in the room。
    〃Okay; Lieutenant; let's keep the weapon pointed downrange and at the floor; if you please; sir。 Chamber your first round; and relax。〃
    Jack pulled the slide back with his left hand; then let it snap forward。 He didn't turn around。 He told himself to relax and play the game。 He heard a cigarette lighter snap shut。 Maybe Robby was lighting up one of his cigars。
    〃I saw a picture of your little girl in the papers; Lieutenant。 She's a pretty little thing。〃
    〃Thank you; Gunny。 I've seen one of yours on campus; too。 Cute; but not very little。 I heard she's engaged to a mid。〃 
    〃Yes; sir。 That's my little baby;〃 Breckenridge said; like a father rather than a Marine。 〃The last of my three。 She'll be married 〃
    Ryan nearly jumped out of his skin as a string of firecrackers began exploding at his feet。 He started to turn when Breckenridge screamed at him:
    〃There; there; there's your target!〃
    A light snapped on to illuminate a silhouette target fifty feet away。 One small part of Ryan's mind knew this was a test  but most of him didn't care。 The 。22 came up and seemed to aim itself at the paper target。 He loosed all five rounds in under three seconds。 The noise was still echoing when his trembling hands set the automatic down on the table。
    〃Jesus Christ; Sar…major!〃 Ryan nearly screamed。
    The rest of the lights came back on。 The room stank of gunpowder; and paper fragments from the firecrackers littered the floor。 Robby; Jack saw; was standing safely at the entrance to the Gunny's office; while Breckenridge was right behind him; ready to grab Ryan's gun hand if he did anything foolish。
    〃One of the other things I do is moonlight as an instructor for the Annapolis City Police。 You know; it's a real pain in the ass trying to figure a way to simulate the stress of bat conditions。 This here's what I came up with。 Okay; let's get a look at the target。〃 Breckenridge punched a button; and a hidden electric motor turned the pulley for lane four。
  

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