tc.patriotgames-第31章

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　dusted　for　fingerprints　also；　but　opening　the　window　wouldn't　harm　anything。　A　breeze　cooled　things　off　in　an　instant。
　　　　〃That's　better。〃　The　FBI　representative　took　a　deep　breath；　scarcely　noticing　the　smell　of　diesel　exhaust　from　the　London　cabs　。　。　。　
　　　　Something　was　wrong。
　　　　It　hit　Murray　as　a　surprise。　Something　was　wrong。　What？　He　looked　out　the　window。　To　the　left　was　a　　probably　a　warehouse；　a　blank　four…story　wall。　Past　it　on　the　right；　he　could　see　the　outline　of　the　Tower　of　London；　standing　over　the　River　Thames。　That　was　all。　He　turned　his　head　to　see　Owens；　also　staring　out　the　window。　The　mander　of　C…13　turned　his　head　and　looked　at　Murray；　a　question　on　his　face　also。　
　　　　〃Yes；〃　Owens　said。
　　　　〃What　was　it　that　guy　on　the　phone　said？〃　Murray　muttered。　
　　　　Owens'　head　bobbed。　〃Exactly。　Sergeant　Highland？〃　
　　　　〃Yes；　mander？〃
　　　　〃The　voice　on　the　phone。　What　exactly　did　it　say；　and　what　exactly　did　it　sound　like？〃　Owens　kept　looking　out　the　window。
　　　　〃The　voice　had　。　。　。　a　Midlands　accent；　I　should　think。　A　man's　voice。　He　said　that　he　was　looking　in　the　window；　and　saw　explosives　and　some　wires。　We　have　it　all　on　tape；　of　course。〃　
　　　　Murray　reached　through　the　open　window　and　ran　a　finger　along　the　outside　surface　of　the　glass。　It　came　back　dirty。　〃It　sure　wasn't　a　window…washer　who　called　in。〃　He　leaned　out　the　window。　There　was　no　fire　escape。
　　　　〃Someone　atop　the　warehouse；　perhaps　　no；〃　Owens　said　at　once。　〃The　angle　isn't　right；　unless　she　had　the　material　spread　out　on　the　floor。　That　is　rather　odd。〃
　　　　〃Break…in？　Maybe　someone　got　in　here；　saw　the　stuff；　and　decided　to　call　in　like　a　good　citizen？〃　Murray　asked。　〃That　doesn't　sound　very　likely。〃
　　　　Owens　shrugged。　〃No　telling；　is　there？　A　boyfriend　she　dumped　　I　think　for　the　moment　we　can　be　content　with　counting　our　blessings；　Dan。　There　are　five　bombs　that　will　never　hurt　anyone。　Let's　get　out　of　everyone's　way　and　send　that　telex　off　to　Washington。　Sergeant　Highland；　gentlemen；　this　was　well　done！　Congratulations　to　you　all　for　some　splendid　police　work。　Carry　on。〃
　　　　Owens　and　Murray　left　the　building　quietly。　Outside　they　found　a　small　crowd　being　restrained　by　about　ten　uniformed　constables。　A　TV　news　crew　was　on　the　scene　with　its　bright　lights。　These　were　enough　to　keep　them　from　seeing　across　the　street。　This　block　had　three　small　pubs。　In　the　doorway　of　one　stood　a　soft…looking　man　with　a　pint　of　bitter　in　his　hand。　He　showed　no　emotion；　not　even　curiosity；　as　he　looked　across　the　street。　His　memory　recorded　the　faces　he　saw。　His　name　was　Dennis　Cooley。
　　　　Murray　and　Owens　drove　to　New　Scotland　Yard　headquarters；　where　the　FBI　agent　made　his　telex　to　Washington。　They　didn't　discuss　the　one　anomaly　that　the　case　had　unexpectedly　developed；　and　Murray　left　Owens　to　his　work。　C…13　had　broken　yet　another　bomb　case　　and　done　so　in　the　best　way；　without　a　single　casualty。　It　meant　that　Owens　and　his　people　would　have　a　sleepless　night　of　paperwork；　and　preparing　reports　for　the　Home　Office　bureaucracy；　and　press　releases　for　Fleet　Street；　but　that　was　something　they　would　gladly　accept。

　　　　Ryan's　first　day　back　at　work　was　easier　than　he　had　expected。　His　prolonged　absence　had　forced　the　History　Department　to　reassign　his　classes；　and　in　any　case　it　was　almost　time　for　Christmas　break；　and　nearly　all　of　the　mids　were　looking　forward　to　being　home　for　the　holidays。　Class　routine　was　slightly　relaxed；　and　even　the　plebes　enjoyed　a　respite　from　the　upperclassmen's　harassment　in　the　wake　of　the　win　over　Army。　For　Ryan；　the　result　was　a　fairish　collection　of　letters　and　documents　piled　on　his　In　tray；　and　a　quiet　day　with　which　to　deal　with　them。　He'd　arrived　in　his　office　at　7：30；　by　quarter　to　five　he'd　dealt　with　most　of　his　paperwork；　and　Ryan　felt　that　he'd　delivered　an　honest　day's　work。　He　was　finishing　a　series　of　test　questions　for　the　semester's　final　exam　when　he　smelled　cheap　cigar　smoke　and　heard　a　familiar　voice。
　　　　〃Did　you　enjoy　your　vacation；　boy？〃　Lieutenant　mander　Robert　Jefferson　Jackson　was　leaning　against　the　door　frame。
　　　　〃It　had　a　few　interesting　moments；　Robby。　The　sun　over　　or　under　　the　yardarm　yet？〃
　　　　〃Damn　straight！〃　Jackson　set　his　white　cap　on　top　of　Ryan's　filing　cabinet　and　collapsed　unceremoniously　into　the　leather　chair　opposite　his　friend's　desk。
　　　　Ryan　closed　the　file　folder　on　his　draft　exam　and　shoved　it　into　a　desk　drawer。　One　of　the　personal　touches　in　his　office　was　a　small　refrigerator。　He　opened　it　and　took　out　a　two…liter　bottle　of　7…Up；　along　with　an　empty　bottle　of　Canada　Dry　ginger　ale；　then　removed　a　bottle　of　Irish　whiskey　from　his　desk。　Robby　got　two　cups　from　the　table　by　the　door　and　handed　them　to　Jack。　Ryan　mixed　two　drinks　to　the　approximate　color　of　ginger　ale。　It　was　against　Academy　policy　to　have　liquor　in　one's　office　　a　stance　Ryan　found　curious；　given　the　naval　orientation　of　the　institution　　but　drinking　〃ginger　ale〃　was　a　winked…upon　subterfuge。　Besides；　everyone　recognized　that　the　Officer　and　Faculty　Club　was　only　a　minute's　walk　away。　Jack　handed　one　drink　over　and　replaced　everything　but　the　empty　ginger　ale　bottle。　
　　　　〃Wele　home；　pal！〃　Robby　held　his　drink　up。　
　　　　〃Nice　to　be　back。〃　The　two　men　clicked　their　cups　together。
　　　　〃Glad　you　made　it；　Jack。　You　kind　of　worried　us。　How's　the　arm？〃　Jackson　gestured　with　his　cup。
　　　　〃Better　than　it　was。　You　oughta　see　the　cast　I　started　out　with。　They　took　it　off　at　Hopkins　last　Friday。　I　learned　one　thing　today；　though；　driving　a　stick　shift　through　Annapolis　with　one　arm　is　a　bitch。〃　
　　　　〃I'll　bet；〃　Robby　chuckled。　〃Damn　if　you　ain't　crazy；　boy。〃　
　　　　Ryan　nodded　agreement。　He'd　met　Jackson　the　previous　March　at　a　faculty　tea。　Robby　wore　the　gold　wings　of　a　naval　aviator。　He'd　been　assigned　to　the　nearby　Patuxent　River　Naval　Air　Test　Center；　Maryland；　as　an　instructor　in　the　test　pilot　school　until　a　faulty　relay　had　unexpectedly　blasted　him　clear　of　the　Buckeye　jet　trainer　he'd　been　flying　one　fine；　clear　morning。　Unprepared　for　the　event；　he'd　broken　his　leg　badly。　The　injury　had　been　serious　enough　to　take　him　off　flight　status　for　six　months；　and　the　Navy　had　assigned　him　to　temporary　duty　as　an　instructor　in　Annapolis；　where　he　was　currently　in　the　engineering　department。　It　was　an　assignment　which　Jackson　regarded　as　one　step　above　pulling　oars　in　a　galley。
　　　　Jackson　was　shorter　than　Ryan；　and　much　darker。　He　was　the　fourth　son　of　a　Baptist　preacher　in　southern　Alabama。　When　they'd　first　met；　the　officer　was　still　in　a　cast；　and　Jackson　had　asked　Ryan　if　he　might　want　to　try　his　hand　at　kendo。　It　was　something　that　Ryan　had　never　tried；　the　Japanese　fencing　sport　in　which　bamboo　staves　are　used　in　place　of　samurai　swords。　Ryan　had　used　pugil　sticks　in　the　Marines　and　figured　it　wouldn't　be　too　different。　He'd　accepted　the　invitation；　thinking　that　his　longer　reach　would　be　a　decisive　advantage；　particularly　on　top　of　Jackson's　reduced　mobility。　It　hadn't　occurred　to　him　that　Jackson　would　first　have　asked　a　brother　officer　for　a　kendo　match。　In　fact；　Ryan　later　learned；　he　had。　He'd　also　learned　by　then　that　Robby　had　the　blinding　quickness　and　killer　instinct　of　a　rattlesnake。　By　the　time　the　bruises　had　faded；　they　were　fast　friends。
　　　　For　his　part；　Ryan　had　introduced　the　pilot　to　the　smoky　flavor　of　good　Irish　whiskey；　and　they'd　evolved　the　tradition　of　an　afternoon　drink　or　two　in　the　privacy　of　Jack's　office。　
　　　　〃Any　news　on　campus？〃　Ryan　asked。
　　　　〃Still　teachin'　the　boys　and　girls；〃　Jackson　said　fortably。　
　　　　〃And　you've　started　to　like　it？〃
　　　　〃Not　exactly。　The　leg's　finally　back　in　battery；　though。　I've　been　spending　my　weekends　down　at　Pax　River　to　prove　I　still　know　how　to　fly。　You　know；　you　made　one　hell　of　a　flap　hereabouts。〃　
　　　　〃When　I　was　shot？〃
　　　　〃Yeah；　I　was　in　with　the　Superintendent　when　the　call　came　in。　The　'soop'　put　it　on　speaker；　and　we　got　this　FBI…guy　askin'　if　we　got　a　nut…case　teacher　in　London　playing　cops　and　robbers。　I　said；　sure；　I　know　the　jerk；　but　they　wanted　somebody　in　the　History　Department　to　back　me　up　　mainly　they　wanted　the　name　of　your　travel　agent；　I　suppose。　Anyway；　everybody　was　out　to　lunch；　and　I　had　to　track　Professor　Billings　down　in　the　O…Club；　and　the　superintendent　did　some　runnin'　around；　too。　You　almost　ruined　the　boss's　last　golf　day　with　the　Governor。〃　
　　　　〃Damned　near　ruined　my　day；　too。〃　
　　　　〃Was　it　like　they　said　in　the　papers？〃　
　　　　〃Probably。　The　Brit　papers　got　it　pretty　straight。〃　
　　　　Jackson　nodded　as　he　tapped　the　cigar　on　Ryan's　ashtray。　〃You're　lucky　you　didn't　e　home　parcel　post；　boy；〃　he　said。
　　　　〃Don't　you　start；　Robby。　One　more　guy　tells　me　I'm　a　hero；　and　I'll　flatten　him　〃
　　　　〃Hero？　Hell；　no！　If　all　you　honkies　were　that　dumb；　my　ancestors　would　have　imported　yours。〃　The　pilot　shook　his　head　emphatically。　〃Didn't　anybody　ever　tell　you；　that　hand…to…hand　stuff　is　dangerous〃〃
　　　　〃If　you'd　been　there；　I　bet　you'd　have　done　the　same　〃　
　　　　〃No　chance！　God　Almighty；　is　there　anything　dumber　than　a　Marine？　This　hand…to…hand　stuff；　Jeez；　you　get　blood　on　your　clothes；　mess　up　the　shine　on　your　shoes。　No　way；　boy！　When　I　do　my　killin'；　it'll　be　with　cannon　shells　and　missiles　　you　know；　the　civilized　way。〃　Jackson　grinned。　〃The　safe　way。〃　
　　　　〃Not　like　flying　an　airplane　that　decides　to　blast　you　loose　without　warning　you　first；〃　Ryan　scoffed。
　　　　〃I　dinged　my　leg　some；　sure；　but　when　I　got　my　Tomcat　strapped　to　my　back。　I'm　hummin'　along　at　six　hundred…plus　knots。　Anybody　who　wants　to　put　a　bullet　in　me；　fella；　he　can　do　it；　but　he's　gonna　have　to　work　at　it。〃
　　　　Ryan　shook　his　head。　He　was　hearing　a　safety　lecture　from　someone　who　just　happened　to　be　in　the　most　dangerous　business　there　was　　a　carrier　aviator　and　a　test　pilot。
　　　　〃How's　Cathy　and　Sally？〃　Robby　asked；　more　seriously。　〃We　meant　to　e　over　Sunday；　but　we　had　to　drive　up　to　Philadelphia　on　short　notice。〃　
　　　　〃It　was　kinda　tough　on　them；　but　they　came　through　all　right。〃　
　　　　〃You　got　a　family　to　worry　about。　Jack；〃　Jackson　pointed　out。　〃Leave　that　rescue　stuff　to　the　professionals。〃　The　funny　thing　about　Robby；　Jack　knew；　was　his　caution。　For　all　the　down…home　bantering　about　his　life　as　a　fighter　pilot；　Jackson　never　took　a　risk　he　didn't　have　to。　He'd　known　pilots　who　had。　Many　were　dead。　There　was　not　a　single　man　wearing　those　gold　wings　who　had　not　lost　a　friend；　and　Jack　wondered　how　deeply　that　had　affected　Jackson　over　the　years。　Of　one　thing　he　was　sure；　though　Robby　was　in　a　dangerous　business；　like　all　successful　gamblers　he　thought　things　over　before　he　moved　his　chips。　Wherever　his　body　went；　his　mind　had　already　gone。
　　　　〃It's　all　over；　Rob。　It's　all　behind　me；　and　there　won't　be　a　next　time。〃
　　　　〃We'll　put　a　big　roger　on　that。　Who　else　am　I　gonna　drink　with？　So　how'd　you　like　it　over　there？〃
　　　　〃I　didn't　see　very　much；　but　Cathy　had　a　great　time；　all　things　considered。　I　think　she　saw　every　castle　in　the　country　　plus　the　new　friends　we　made。〃
　　　　〃That　must　have　been　right　interesting；〃　Robby　chuckled。　The　flyer　stubbed　out　his　cigar。　They　were　cheap；　crooked；　evil…smelling　little　things；　and　Jack　figured　that　Jackson　puffed　on　them　only　as　part　of　the　Image　of　the　Fighter　Pilot。　〃Not　hard　to　understa