tc.patriotgames-第62节

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　　　　〃But　you　don't　take　your　seat　in　Parliament；〃　MacNeil　objected。
　　　　〃And　join　the　government　that　is　killing　my　constituents？〃　
　　　　〃Jesus；〃　Ryan　said；　〃what　a　mess。〃　He　turned　the　TV　off。

　　　　〃Such　a　reasonable　man；〃　Miller　said。　Alex's　house　was　outside　the　D。C。　beltway。　〃Tell　your　friends　how　reasonable　you　are；　Paddy。　And　when　you　get　to　the　pubs　tonight；　be　sure　to　tell　your　friends　that　you　have　never　hurt　anyone　who　was　not　a　genuine　oppressor　of　the　Irish　people。〃　Sean　watched　the　whole　segment；　then　placed　an　overseas　call　to　a　pay　phone　outside　a　Dublin　pub。
　　　　The　next　morning　　only　five　hours　later　in　Ireland　　four　men　boarded　a　plane　for　Paris。　Neatly　dressed；　they　looked　like　young　executives　traveling　with　their　soft　luggage　to　business　appointments　overseas。　At　Charles　de　Gaulle　International　Airport　they　made　connections　to　a　flight　to　Caracas。　From　there　they　flew　Eastern　Air　Lines　to　Atlanta；　and　another　Eastern　flight　to　National　Airport；　just　down　the　Potomac　from　the　memorial　to　Thomas　Jefferson。　The　four　were　jet…lagged　out　and　sick　of　airliner　seats　when　they　arrived。　They　took　an　airport　limousine　to　a　local　hotel　to　sleep　off　their　travel　shock。　The　young　businessmen　checked　out　the　next　morning　and　were　met　by　a　car。

Chapter　14　Second　Chances

　　　　There　ought　to　be　a　law　against　Mondays；　Ryan　thought。　He　stared　at　what　had　to　be　the　worst　way　to　start　any　day：　a　broken　shoelace　that　dangled　from　his　left　fist。　Where　were　the　spares？　he　asked　himself。　He　couldn't　ask　Cathy；　she　and　Sally　had　left　the　house　ten　minutes　before　on　the　way　to　Giant　Steps　and　Hopkins。　Damn。　He　started　rummaging　through　his　dresser　drawers。　Nothing。　The　kitchen。　He　walked　downstairs　and　across　the　house　to　the　kitchen　drawer　that　held　everything　that　wasn't　someplace　else。　Hidden　beneath　the　notepads　and　magnets　and　scissors　he　found　a　spare　pair　　no；　one　white　lace　for　a　sneaker。　He　was　getting　warmer。　Several　minutes　of　digging　later；　he　found　something　close　enough。　He　took　one　and　left　the　other。　After　all；　shoelaces　broke　one　at　a　time。
　　　　Next　Jack　had　to　select　a　tie　for　the　day。　That　was　never　easy；　though　at　least　he　didn't　have　his　wife　around　to　tell　him　he'd　picked　the　wrong　one。　He　was　wearing　a　gray　suit；　and　picked　a　dark　blue　tie　with　red　stripes。　Ryan　was　still　wearing　white；　button…down　shirts　made　mostly　of　cotton。　Old　habits　die　hard。　The　suit　jacket　slid　on　neatly。　It　was　one　of　the　suits　Cathy　had　bought　in　England。　It　was　painful　to　admit　that　her　taste　in　clothing　was　far　better　than　his。　That　London　tailor　wasn't　too　bad；　either。　He　smiled　at　himself　in　the　mirror　　you　handsome　devil！　　before　heading　downstairs。　His　briefcase　was　waiting　on　the　foyer　table；　full　of　the　draft　quizzes　he'd　be　giving　today。　Ryan　took　his　overcoat　from　the　closet；　checked　to　see　his　keys　were　in　the　right　pocket；　got　the　briefcase；　and　went　out　the　door。
　　　　〃Oops！〃　He　unlocked　the　door　and　set　the　burglar　alarm　before　going　back　outside。

　　　　Sergeant　Major　Breckenridge　walked　down　the　double　line　of　Marines；　and　his　long…practiced　eyes　didn't　miss　a　thing。　One　private　had　lint　on　his　blue；　high…necked　blouse。　Another's　shoes　needed　a　little　more　work；　and　two　needed　haircuts；　you　could　barely　see　their　scalps　under　the　quarter…inch　hair。　All　in　all；　there　wasn't　much　to　be　displeased　with。　Every　one　would　have　passed　a　normal　inspection；　but　this　wasn't　a　normal　post；　and　normal　rules　didn't　apply。　Breckenridge　was　not　a　screamer。　He'd　gotten　past　that。　His　remonstrations　were　more　fatherly　now。　They　carried　the　force　of　a　mand　from　God　nevertheless。　He　finished　the　inspection　and　dismissed　the　guard　detail。　Several　marched　off　to　their　gate　posts。　Others　rode　in　pickups　to　the　more　remote　posts　to　relieve　the　current　watch　slanders　at　eight　o'clock　exactly。　Each　Marine　wore　his　dress　blues　and　a　white　pistol　belt。　Their　pistols　were　kept　at　the　posts。　They　were　unloaded；　in　keeping　with　the　peaceful　nature　of　their　duty；　but　full　clips　of　。45　ACP　cartridges　were　always　nearby；　in　keeping　with　the　nature　of　the　Marines。

　　　　Did　I　really　look　forward　to　this？　It　took　all　of　Ryan's　energy　just　to　think　that　question　of　himself。　But　he　didn't　have　any　further　excuses。　In　London　his　injuries　had　prevented　him　from　doing　it。　The　same　had　been　true　of　the　first　few　weeks　at　home。　Then　he'd　spent　the　early　mornings　traveling　to　CIA。　That　had　been　his　last　excuse。　None　were　left。
　　　　Rickover　Hall；　he　told　himself。　I'll　stop　when　I　get　to　Rickover　Hall。　He　had　to　stop　soon。　Breathing　the　cold　air　off　the　river　was　like　inhaling　knives。　His　nose　and　mouth　were　like　sandpaper　and　his　heart　threatened　to　burst　from　his　chest。　Jack　hadn't　jogged　in　months；　and　he　was　paying　the　price　for　his　sloth。
　　　　Rickover　Hall　seemed　a　thousand　miles　away；　though　he　knew　it　was　only　a　few　hundred　more　yards。　As　recently　as　the　previous　October；　he'd　been　able　to　make　three　circuits　of　the　grounds　and　e　away　with　nothing　more　than　a　good　sweat。　Now　he　was　only　at　the　halfway　mark　of　his　first　lap；　and　death　seemed　amazingly　attractive。　His　legs　were　already　robbery　with　fatigue。　His　stride　was　off；　Ryan　was　weaving　slightly；　a　sure　sign　of　a　runner　who　was　beyond　his　limit。
　　　　Another　hundred　yards。　About　fifteen　seconds　more；　he　told　himself。　All　the　time　he'd　spent　on　his　back；　all　the　time　sitting　down；　all　the　cigarettes　he'd　sneaked　at　CIA　were　punishing　him　now。　The　runs　he'd　had　to　do　at　Quantico　had　been　nothing　like　this。　You　were　a　lot　younger　then；　Ryan's　mind　pointed　out　gleefully。
　　　　He　turned　his　head　left　and　saw　that　he　was　lined　up　on　the　building's　east　wall。　Ryan　leaned　back　and　slowed　to　a　walk；　hands　supported　on　his　hips　as　his　chest　heaved　to　catch　up　on　the　oxygen　it　needed。
　　　　〃You　okay。　Doc？〃　A　mid　stopped　　his　legs　still　pumping　in　double…time　　to　look　Jack　over。　Ryan　tried　to　hate　him　for　his　youth　and　energy；　but　couldn't　summon　enough　energy。
　　　　〃Yeah；　just　out　of　training；〃　Jack　gasped　out　over　three　breaths。
　　　　〃You　gotta　work　back　into　it　slowly；　sir；〃　the　twenty…year…old　pointed　out；　and　sped　off；　leaving　his　history　teacher　scornfully　in　his　dust。　Jack　started　laughing　at　himself；　but　it　gave　him　a　coughing　fit。　The　next　one　to　pass　him　was　a　girl。　Her　grin　really　made　things　worse。
　　　　Don't　sit　down。　Whatever　you　do；　don't　sit　down。
　　　　He　turned　and　moved　away　from　the　seawall。　Just　walking　on　his　wobbly　legs　was　an　effort。　He　took　the　towel　from　around　his　neck　to　wipe　the　sweat　from　his　face　before　he　got　too　much　of　a　chill。　Jack　held　the　towel　taut　between　his　hands　and　stretched　his　arms　high。　He'd　caught　his　breath　by　now。　A　renewed　supply　of　oxygen　returned　to　his　limbs；　and　most　of　the　pain　left。　The　rubberiness　would　go　next；　he　knew。　In　another　ten　minutes　he'd　feel　pretty　good。　Tomorrow　he'd　make　it　a　little　farther　　to　the　Nimitz　Library；　he　promised　himself。　By　May　he　wouldn't　have　the　mids　　at　least　not　the　girls　　racing　past　him。　Well；　not　all　of　the　girls；　anyway。　He　was　spotting　a　minimum　of　ten　years　to　the　midshipmen；　something　that　would　only　get　worse。　Jack　had　already　passed　thirty。　Next　stop：　forty。

　　　　Cathy　Ryan　was　in　her　greens；　scrubbing　at　the　special　basin　outside　the　surgical　suite。　The　elastic　waistband　of　the　pants　was　high；　above　the　curve　of　her　abdomen；　and　that　made　the　pants　overly　short；　like　the　clamdiggers　that　had　been　fashionable　in　her　teenage　years。　A　green　cap　was　over　her　hair；　and　she　wondered　yet　again　why　she　bothered　to　brush　it　out　every　morning。　By　the　time　the　procedure　was　finished；　her　hair　would　look　like　the　snaky　locks　of　the　Medusa。
　　　　〃Game　time；〃　she　said　quietly　to　herself。　She　hit　the　door…opening　switch　with　her　elbow；　keeping　her　hands　high；　just　like　it　was　done　in　the　movies。　Bernice；　the　circulating　nurse；　had　her　gloves　ready；　and　Cathy　reached　her　hands　into　the　rubber　until　the　tops　of　the　gloves　came　far　up　on　her　forearms。　Because　of　this；　she　was　rarely　able　to　wear　her　engagement　ring；　though　her　simple　wedding　band　posed　no　problem。　〃Thanks。〃　
　　　　〃How's　the　baby？〃　Bernice　asked。　She　had　three　of　her　own。
　　　　〃At　the　moment　he's　learning　to　jog。〃　Cathy　smiled　behind　her　mask。　〃Or　maybe　he's　lifting　weights。〃　
　　　　〃Nice　necklace。〃　
　　　　〃Christmas　present　from　Jack。〃
　　　　Dr。　Terri　Mitchell；　the　anesthesiologist；　hooked　the　patient　up　to　her　various　monitors　and　went　to　work　as　the　surgeons　looked　on。　Cathy　gave　the　instruments　a　quick　look；　knowing　that　Lisa…Marie　always　got　things　right。　She　was　one　of　the　best　scrub　nurses　in　the　hospital　and　was　picky　on　the　doctors　she'd　work　with。
　　　　〃All　ready。　Doctor？〃　Cathy　asked　the　resident。　〃Okay；　people；　let's　see　if　we　can　save　this　lady's　eyesight。〃　She　looked　at　the　clock。　〃Starting　at　eight　forty…one。〃

　　　　Miller　assembled　the　submachine　gun　slowly。　He　had　plenty　of　time。　The　weapon　had　been　carefully　cleaned　and　oiled　after　being　test　fired　the　night　before　at　a　quarry　twenty　miles　north　of　Washington。　This　one　would　be　his　personal　weapon。　Already　he　liked　it。　The　balance　was　perfect；　the　folding　stock；　when　extended；　had　a　good；　solid　feel　to　it。　The　sights　were　easy　to　use；　and　the　gun　was　fairly　steady　on　full…automatic　fire。　All　in　all