tc.patriotgames-第69部分

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r　yonder；　and　you're　gonna　sit　down　and　be　a　good　boy　while　we　call　the　police。　If　you　make　any　trouble；　I'm　going　to　tear　this　arm　off　and　shove　it　right　up　your　ass。　Let's　go；　boy。〃
　　　　The　driver　who'd　been　waiting　for　Clark　was　standing　at　the　far　corner。　He　took　one　look　at　what　had　happened　and　walked　to　his　car。　Two　minutes　later　he　was　blocks　away。
　　　　Cummings　handcuffed　the　man　to　a　chair　while　Breckenridge　established　that　he　carried　no　identification　　aside　from　an　automatic　pistol；　which　was　ID　enough。　First　he　called　his　captain；　then　the　Annapolis　City　police。　It　started　there；　but；　though　the　Gunny　didn't　know；　it　wouldn't　stop　there。

Chapter　15　Shock　and　Trauma

　　　　If　Jack　had　ever　doubted　that　Robby　Jackson　really　was　a　fighter　pilot；　this　would　have　cured　him。　Jackson's　personal　toy　was　a　two…year…old　Chevrolet　Corvette；　painted　candy…apple　red；　and　he　drove　it　with　a　sense　of　personal　invincibility。　The　flyer　raced　out　the　Academy's　west　gate；　turned　left；　and　found　his　way　to　Rowe　Boulevard。　The　traffic　problems　on　Route　50　west　were　immediately　apparent；　and　he　changed　lanes　to　head　east。　In　a　minute　he　was　streaking　across　the　Severn　River　bridge。　Jack　was　too　engrossed　in　his　thoughts　to　see　much　of　anything；　but　Robby　saw　what　looked　like　the　remains　of　a　Porsche　on　the　other　side　of　the　roadway。　Jackson's　blood　went　cold　as　he　turned　away。　He　cast　the　thoughts　aside　and　concentrated　on　his　driving；　pushing　the　Corvette　past　eighty。　There　were　too　many　cops　on　the　other　side　of　the　road　for　him　to　worry　about　a　ticket。　He　took　the　Ritchie　Highway　exit　a　minute　later　and　curved　around　north　toward　Baltimore。　Rush…hour　traffic　was　heavy；　though　most　of　it　was　heading　in　the　other　direction。　This　gave　him　gaps　to　exploit；　and　the　pilot　used　every　one。　He　worked　up　and　down　through　the　gears；　rarely　touching　the　brakes。
　　　　To　his　right；　Jack　simply　stared　straight　ahead；　not　seeing　much　of　anything。　He　managed　to　wince　when　Robby　paused　behind　two　tractor…trailers　running　side　by　side　　then　shot　up　right　between　them　with　scant　inches　of　clearance　on　either　side。　The　outraged　screams　of　the　two　diesel　horns　faded　irrelevantly　behind　the　racing　'Vette；　and　Jack　returned　to　the　emptiness　of　his　thoughts。

　　　　Breckenridge　allowed　his　captain；　Mike　Peters；　to　handle　the　situation。　He　was　a　pretty　good　officer；　the　Sergeant　Major　thought；　who　had　the　mon　sense　to　let　his　NCOs　run　things。　He'd　managed　to　get　to　the　guard　shack　about　two　minutes　ahead　of　the　Annapolis　City　police；　long　enough　for　Breckenridge　and　Cummings　to　fill　him　in。
　　　　〃So　what　gives；　gentlemen？〃　the　responding　officer　asked。　Captain　Peters　nodded　for　Breckenridge　to　speak。
　　　　〃Sir；　Sergeant　Cummings　here　observed　this　individual　to　be　standing　over　at　the　corner　across　the　street。　He　did　not　look　like　a　local　resident；　so　we　kept　an　eye　on　him。　Finally　Cummings　and　I　walked　over　and　asked　if　we　might　be　of　assistance　to　him。　He　tried　to　pull　this　on　us〃　　the　Gunny　lifted　the　pistol　carefully；　so　as　not　to　disturb　the　fingerprints　　〃and　he　had　this　knife　in　his　pocket。　Carrying　a　concealed　weapon　is　a　violation　of　local　law；　so　Cummings　and　I　made　a　citizen's　arrest　and　called　you。　This　character　does　not　have　any　identification　on　him；　and　he　declined　to　speak　with　us。〃　
　　　　〃What　kind　of　gun　is　that？〃　the　cop　asked。
　　　　〃It's　an　FN　nine…millimeter；〃　Breckenridge　answered。　〃It's　the　same　as　the　Browning　Hi…Power；　but　a　different　trademark；　with　a　thirteen…round　magazine。　The　weapon　was　loaded；　with　a　live　round　in　the　chamber。　The　hammer　was　down。　The　knife　is　a　cheap　piece　of　shit。　Punk　knife。〃
　　　　The　cop　had　to　smile。　He　knew　Breckenridge　from　the　department　firearms　training　unit。
　　　　〃Can　I　have　your　name；　please；〃　the　cop　said　to　Eamon　Clark。　The　〃suspect〃　just　stared　at　him。　〃Sir；　you　have　a　number　of　constitutional　rights　which　I　am　about　to　read　to　you；　but　the　law　does　not　allow　you　to　withhold　your　identity。　You　have　to　tell　me　your　name。〃
　　　　The　cop　stared　at　Clark　for　another　minute。　At　last　he　shrugged　and　pulled　a　card　from　his　clipboard。　〃Sir；　you　have　the　right　to　remain　silent　。　。　。　〃　He　read　the　litany　off　the　card。　〃Do　you　understand　these　rights？〃
　　　　Still　Clark　didn't　say　anything。　The　police　officer　was　getting　irritated。　He　looked　at　the　other　three　men　in　the　room。　〃Gentlemen；　will　you　testify　that　I　read　this　individual　his　rights？〃　
　　　　〃Yes；　sir；　we　certainly　will；〃　Captain　Peters　said。
　　　　〃If　I　may　make　a　suggestion；　officer；〃　Breckenridge　said。　〃You　might　want　to　check　this　boy　out　with　the　FBI。〃　
　　　　〃How　e？〃
　　　　〃He　talks　funny；〃　the　Sergeant　Major　explained。　〃He　don't　e　from　here。〃　
　　　　〃Great　　two　crazy　ones　in　one　day。〃　
　　　　〃What　do　ya　mean？〃　Breckenridge　asked。
　　　　〃Little　while　ago　a　car　got　machine…gunned　on　50；　sounds　like　some　kind　of　drug　hit。　A　trooper　got　killed　by　the　same　bunch　a　few　minutes　later。　The　bad　guys　got　away。〃　The　cop　leaned　down　to　look　Clark　in　the　face。　〃You　better　start　talkin'；　sir。　The　cops　in　this　town　are　in　a　mean　mood　tonight。　What　I'm　tellin'　you；　man；　is　that　we　don't　want　to　put　up　with　some　unnecessary　shit。　You　understand　me？〃
　　　　Clark　didn't　understand。　In　Ireland　carrying　a　concealed　weapon　was　a　serious　crime。　In　America　it　was　rather　less　so　since　so　many　citizens　owned　guns。　Had　he　said　he　was　waiting　for　someone　and　carried　a　gun　because　he　was　afraid　of　street　criminals；　he　might　have　gotten　out　on　the　street　before　identification　procedures　were　plete。　Instead；　his　intransigence　was　only　making　the　policeman　angry　and　ensuring　that　the　identification　procedures　would　be　carried　out　in　full　before　he　was　arraigned。
　　　　Captain　Peters　and　Sergeant　Major　Breckenridge　exchanged　a　meaningful　look。
　　　　〃Officer；〃　the　Captain　said；　〃I　would　most　strongly　remend　that　you　check　this　character's　ID　with　the　FBI。　We've；　uh；　we　had　a　sort　of　an　informal　warning　about　terrorist　activity　a　few　weeks　back。　This　is　still　your　jurisdiction　since　he　was　arrested　in　the　city；　but　。　。　。　〃
　　　　〃I　hear　you；　Cap'n；〃　the　cop　said。　He　thought　for　a　few　seconds　and　concluded　that　there　was　something　more　here　than　met　the　eye。　〃If　you　gentlemen　will　e　to　the　station　with　me；　we'll　find　out　who　Mr。　Doe　here　really　is。〃

　　　　Ryan　charged　through　the　entrance　of　the　Shock…Trauma　Center　and　identified　himself　to　the　reception　desk；　whose　occupant　directed　him　to　a　waiting　room　where；　she　said　firmly；　he　would　be　notified　as　soon　as　there　was　anything　to　report。　The　sudden　change　from　action　to　inaction　disoriented　Jack　enormously。　He　stood　at　the　entrance　to　the　waiting　room　for　some　minutes；　his　mind　a　total　blank　as　it　struggled　with　the　situation。　By　the　time　Robby　arrived　from　parking　his　car；　he　found　his　friend　sitting　on　the　cracked　vinyl　of　an　old　sofa；　mindlessly　reading　through　a　brochure　whose　stiff　paper　had　bee　as　soft　as　chamois　from　the　numberless　hands　of　parents；　wives；　husbands；　and　friends　of　the　patients　who　had　passed　through　this　building。
　　　　The　brochure　explained　in　bureaucratic　prose　how　the　Maryland　Institute　for　Emergency　Medical　Services　was　the　first　and　best　organization　of　its　kind；　devoted　exclusively　to　the　most　sophisticated　emergency　care　for　trauma　victims。　Ryan　knew　all　this。　Johns　Hopkins　managed　the　more　recent　pediatric　unit　and　provided　many　of　the　staff　surgeons　for　eye　injuries。　Cathy　had　spent　some　time　doing　that　during　her　residency；　an　intense　two　months　that　she'd　been　happy　to　leave　behind。　Jack　wondered　if　she　were　now　being　treated　by　a　former　colleague。　Would　he　recognize　her？　Would　it　matter？
　　　　The　Shock…Trauma　Center　　so　known　to　everyone　but　the　billing　department　　had　begun　as　the　dream　of　a　brilliant；　aggressive；　and　supremely　arrogant　heart　surgeon　who　had　bludgeoned　his　way　through　a　labyrinth　of　bureaucratic　empires　to　build　this　21st…century　emergency　room。
　　　　It　had　blossomed　into　a　dazzling；　legendary　success。　Shock…Trauma　was　the　leading　edge　of　emergency　medical　technology。　It　had　already　pioneered　many　techniques　for　critical　care；　and　in　doing　so　had　overthrown　many　historical　precepts　of　conventional　medicine　　which　had　not　endeared　its　founder　to　his　medical　brethren。　That　would　have　been　true　in　any　field；　and　Shock…Trauma's　founder　had　not　helped　the　process　with　his　brutally　outspoken　opinions。　His　greatest　　but　unacknowledged　　crime；　of　course；　was　being　right　in　nearly　all　details。　And　while　this　prophet　was　without　honor　in　the　mainstream　of　his　profession；　its　younger　members　were　easier　to　convert。　Shock…Trauma　attracted　the　best　young　surgical　talent　in　the　world；　and　only　the　finest　of　them　were　chosen。
　　　　But　will　they　be　good　enough？　Ryan　asked　himself。
　　　　He　lost　all　track　of　time；　waiting；　afraid　to　look　at　his　watch；　afraid　to　speculate　on　the　significance　of　time's　flight。　Alone；　pletely　alone　in　his　circumscribed　world；　he　reflected　that　God　had　given　him　a　wife　he　loved　and　a　child　he　treasured　more　than　his　own　life；　that　his　first　duty　as　husband　and　father　was　to　protect　them　from　an　often　hostile　world；　that　he　had　failed；　that；　because　of　this；　their　lives　were　now　in　strangers'　hands。　All　his　knowledge；　all　his　skills　were　useless　now。　It　was　worse　than　impoten