tc.patriotgames-第51节

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！


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。