tc.patriotgames-第72部分

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onal　message。　And　was　waiting　for　a　reply。　
　　　　How　about　that。
　　　　Ryan　closed　his　eyes　and　told　himself　that　it　was　time　to　return　to　the　world　of　the　living。　Too　drained　for　the　tears　he　needed　to　shed；　he　swallowed　a　few　times　and　rubbed　his　hands　across　his　face　before　standing。
　　　　〃Please　tell　Her　Majesty　that　I　am　most　grateful　for　her　concern。　My　wife　is　expected　to　recover　fully；　but　my　daughter　is　in　critical　condition　and　we　will　have　no　definitive　word　on　her　for　another　eight　or　nine　hours。　Please　tell　Her　Majesty　that　。　。　。　that　I　am　deeply　touched　by　her　concern；　and　that　all　of　us　value　her　friendship　very　highly　indeed。〃
　　　　〃Thank　you；　Sir　John。〃　Bennett　made　some　notes。　〃I　will　cable　your　reply　immediately。　If　you　have　no　objection；　I　will　leave　a　member　of　the　embassy　staff　here　with　you。〃　Jack　nodded；　puzzled；　as　Bennett　made　his　exit。
　　　　Robby　took　all　this　in　with　a　raised　eyebrow　and　a　dozen　unasked　questions。　Who　was　this　guy？　He　introduced　himself　as　Edward　Wayson；　and　took　a　seat　in　the　corner　facing　the　doorway。　He　looked　over　at　Jackson。　Their　eyes　met　briefly　and　each　man　evaluated　the　other。　Wayson　had　cool；　detached　eyes；　and　a　wispy　smile　at　the　corners　of　his　mouth。　Robby　gave　him　a　closer　look。　There　was　a　slight　bulge　under　his　left　arm。　Wayson　affected　to　read　a　paperback　novel；　which　he　held　in　his　left　hand；　but　his　eyes　kept　flickering　to　the　door　every　few　seconds；　and　his　right　hand　stayed　free　in　his　lap。　He　caught　Jackson's　glance　and　nodded。　So；　Robby　concluded；　a　spook；　or　at　least　a　security　officer。　So　that's　what　this　is　all　about。　The　realization　came　as　a　blast　of　cold　air。　The　pilot's　hands　flexed　as　he　considered　the　type　of　person　who　would　deliberately　attempt　to　murder　a　woman　and　her　child。
　　　　Five　minutes　later　three　State　Police　officers　made　their　belated　arrival。　They　talked　to　Ryan　for　ten　minutes。　Jackson　watched　with　interest　and　saw　his　friend's　face　go　pale　with　anger　as　he　stammered　answers　to　numerous　questions。　Wayson　didn't　look　but　heard　it　all。

　　　　〃You　were　right；　Jimmy；〃　Murray　said。　He　was　standing　at　the　window；　watching　the　early　morning　traffic　negotiate　the　corner　of　Broadway　and　Victoria。
　　　　〃Paddy　O'Neil　in　Boston　likes　to　say　what　wonderful　chaps　Sinn　Fein　are；〃　Owens　said　speculatively。　〃And　our　friend　O'Donnell　decides　to　embarrass　them。　We　could　not　have　known；　Dan。　A　possibility　of　a　suspicion　is　not　evidence　and　you　know　it。　There　was　no　basis　in　fact　for　giving　them　a　more　serious　warning　than　what　you　did。　And　you　did　warn　them；　Dan。〃　
　　　　〃She's　a　pretty　little　girl。　Gave　me　a　hug　and　a　kiss　before　they　flew　home。〃　Murray　looked　at　his　watch　again　and　subtracted　five　hours。　〃Jimmy；　there　are　times　。　。　。　Fifteen　years　ago　we　arrested　this　　this　person　who　went　after　kids；　little　boys。　I　interrogated　him。　Sang　like　a　canary；　he　couldn't　be　happier　with　himself。　He　copped　to　six　cases；　gave　me　all　the　details　with　a　big　shit…eatin'　grin。　It　was　right　after　the　Supreme　Court　struck　down　all　the　death…penalty　laws；　so　he　knew　that　he'd　live　to　a　ripe　old　age。　Do　you　know　how　close　I　came　to　〃　He　stopped　for　a　moment　before　going　on。　〃Sometimes　we're　too　damned　civilized。〃
　　　　〃The　alternative；　Dan；　is　to　bee　like　them。〃　
　　　　〃I　know　that's　true；　Jimmy；　but　I　just　don't　like　it　right　now。〃

　　　　When　Barry　Shapiro　next　checked　his　watch　it　was　five　in　the　morning。　No　wonder　I　feel　so　tired；　he　thought。　Twenty　hours　on　duty。　I'm　too　old　for　this。　He　was　senior　staff。　He　was　supposed　to　know　better。
　　　　The　first　sign　was　staying　on　duty　too　long；　taking　on　too　much　personal　responsibility；　taking　too　keen　an　interest　in　patients　who　in　the　final　analysis　were　nothing　more　or　less　than　bruised　and　broken　pieces　of　meat。　Some　of　them　died。　No　matter　how　great　his　skill；　how　refined　his　technique；　how　determined　the　efforts　of　his　team；　some　would　always　die。　And　when　you　got　this　tired；　you　couldn't　sleep。　Their　injuries　　and　worse；　their　faces　　were　too　fresh　in　your　memory；　too　haunting　to　go　away。　Doctors　need　sleep　more　than　most　men。　Persistent　loss　of　sleep　was　the　last　and　most　dangerous　warning。　That　was　when　you　had　to　leave　　or　risk　a　breakdown；　as　had　happened　all　too　often　to　the　Shock…Trauma　staffers。
　　　　It　was　their　grimmest　institutional　joke：　how　their　patients　arrived　with　broken　bodies　and　mostly　went　home　whole　　but　the　staff　doctors　and　nurses　who　came　in　with　the　greatest　energy　and　highest　personal　ideals　would　so　often　leave　broken　in　spirit。　It　was　the　ultimate　irony　of　his　profession　that　success　would　engender　the　expectation　of　still　greater　success；　that　failure　in　this　most　demanding　of　medical　disciplines　could　leave　almost　as　much　damage　on　the　practitioner　as　the　patient。　Shapiro　was　cynic　enough　to　see　the　humor　of　it。
　　　　The　surgeon　reread　the　printout　that　the　blood…analyzer　unit　had　spat　out　a　minute　before；　and　handed　it　back　to　the　nurse　practitioner。　She　attached　it　to　the　child's　chart；　then　sat　back　down；　stroking　her　dirty　hair　outside　the　oxygen　mask。
　　　　〃Her　father　is　downstairs。　Get　relief　here　and　go　down　and　tell　him。　I'm　going　upstairs　for　a　smoke。〃　Shapiro　left　the　CCRU　and　got　his　overcoat；　fishing　in　his　pockets　for　his　cigarettes。
　　　　He　wandered　down　the　hall　to　the　fire　stairs；　then　climbed　slowly　up　the　six　flights　to　the　roof。　God；　he　thought。　Dear　God；　I'm　tired。　The　roof　was　flat；　covered　with　tar　and　gravel；　spotted　here　and　there　with　the　UHF　antennas　for　the　center's　SYS　munications　net；　and　a　few　air…conditioning　condensers。　Shapiro　lit　a　cigarette　in　the　lee　of　the　stairway　tower；　cursing　himself　for　his　inability　to　break　the　noxious　habit。　He　rationalized　that；　unlike　most　of　his　colleagues；　he　never　saw　the　degenerative　effects　of　smoking。　Most　of　his　patients　were　too　young　for　chronic　diseases。　Their　injuries　resulted　from　the　miracles　of　a　technical　society：　automobiles；　motorcycles；　firearms；　and　industrial　machinery。
　　　　Shapiro　walked　to　the　edge　of　the　roof；　rested　his　foot　on　the　parapet　as　though　on　a　bar　rail；　and　blew　smoke　into　the　early…morning　air。　It　wafted　away　to　appear　and　disappear　as　a　gentle　morning　breeze　carried　it　past　the　rooftop　lights。　The　doctor　stretched　his　tired　arms　and　neck。　The　night's　rain　had　washed　the　sky　clean　of　its　normal　pollution；　and　he　could　see　stars　overhead　in　the　pre…dawn　darkness。
　　　　Shapiro's　curious　accent　resulted　from　his　background。　His　early　childhood　had　been　spent　in　the　Williamsburg　section　of　New　York；　the　son　of　a　rabbi　who　had　taken　his　family　to　South　Carolina。　Barry　had　had　good　private　schooling　there；　but　emerged　from　it　with　a　mixture　of　Southern　drawl　and　New　York　quip。　It　was　further　damaged　by　a　prairie　twang　acquired　during　his　medical　training　at　Baylor　University　in　Texas。　His　father　was　a　distinguished　man　of　letters　in　his　own　right；　a　frequent　lecturer　at　the　University　of　South　Carolina　at　Columbia。　An　expert　in　19th…century　American　literature；　Rabbi　Shapiro's　specialty　was　the　work　of　Edgar　Allan　Poe。　Barry　Shapiro　loathed　Poe。　A　scribbler　of　death　and　perversity；　the　surgeon　called　him　whenever　the　subject　came　up；　and　he'd　been　surprised　to　learn　that　Poe　had　died　in　Baltimore　long　before；　after　falling　asleep；　drunk；　in　a　gutter；　and　that　Poe's　home　was　only　a　few　blocks　from　the　University　Hospital　plex；　a　demi…shrine　for　the　local　literati。
　　　　It　seemed　to　the　surgeon　that　everything　about　Poe　was　dark　and　twisted；　always　expecting　the　inevitability　of　death　　violent；　untimely　death；　Shapiro's　own　very　personal　enemy。　He　had　e　to　think　of　Poe　as　the　embodiment　of　that　enemy；　sometimes　beaten；　sometimes　not。　It　was　not　something　he　talked　about　to　the　staff　psychiatrist；　who　also　kept　a　close　eye　on　the　hospital　staff　　but　now；　alone；　he　looked　north　to　the　Poe　house。
　　　　〃You　son　of　a　bitch；〃　he　whispered。　To　himself。　To　Poe。　To　no　one。　〃You　son　of　a　bitch！　Not　this　time　　you　don't　get　this　one！　This　one　goes　home。〃　He　flicked　the　cigarette　away　and　watched　the　point　of　orange　light　fall　all　the　way　to　the　shining；　empty　street。　He　turned　back　to　the　stairs。　It　was　time　to　get　some　sleep。

Chapter　16　Objectives　and　Patriots

　　　　Like　most　professional　officers；　Lieutenant　mander　Robby　Jackson　had　little　use　for　the　press。　The　irony　of　it　was　that　Jack　had　tried　many　times　to　tell　him　that　his　outlook　was　wrong；　that　the　press　was　as　important　to　the　preservation　of　American　democracy　as　the　Navy　was。　Now；　as　he　watched；　reporters　were　hounding　his　friend　with　questions　that　alternated　between　totally　inane　and　intrusively　personal。　Why　did　everyone　need　to　know　how　Jack　felt　about　his　daughter's　condition？　What　would　any　normal　person　feel　about　having　his　child　hovering　near　death　　did　they　need　such　feelings　explained？　How　was　Jack　supposed　to　know　who'd　done　the　shooting　　if　the　police　didn't　know；　how　could　he？
　　　　〃And　what's　your　name？〃　one　finally　asked　Robby。　He　gave　the　woman　his　name　and　rank；　but　not　his　serial　number。　
　　　　〃What　are　you　doing　here？〃　she　persisted。　
　　　　〃We're　friends。　I　drove　him　tip　here。〃　You　dumbass。　
　　　　〃And　what　do　you　think　of　all　this？〃
　　　　〃What　do　you　think　I　think？　If　that　was　your　friend's　little　girl　up　there；　what　the　hell　would