tc.patriotgames-第61章

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　　　　My　God；　she　thinks　it's　her　fault　。　。　。　what　do　I　say　now？
　　　　〃She's　going　to　be　okay；　babe；〃　Ryan　managed　to　say；　stunned　at　what　he'd　just　heard。　He　held　Cathy's　hand　to　his　face　and　kissed　it。　〃And　so　are　you。　That's　the　only　thing　that　matters　now。〃　
　　　　〃But　〃　She　stared　at　the　far　wall。　
　　　　〃No　'buts。'　〃
　　　　Her　face　turned　back。　Cathy　tried　to　smile　but　tears　were　rolling　from　her　eyes。　〃I　talked　to　Doctor　Ellingstone　at　Hopkins　　he　came　over　and　saw　Sally。　He　says　　he　says　she'll　be　okay。　He　says　that　Shapiro　saved　her　life。〃　
　　　　〃I　know。〃
　　　　〃I　haven't　even　seen　her　　I　remember　seeing　the　bridge　and　then　I　woke　up　two　hours　ago；　and　　oh；　Jack！〃　Her　hand　closed　on　his　like　a　claw。　He　leaned　forward　to　kiss　her；　but　before　their　lips　touched；　both　started　weeping。
　　　　〃It's　okay；　Cathy；〃　Jack　said；　and　he　started　to　believe　that　it　really　was；　or　at　least　that　it　would　be　so　again。　His　world　had　not　ended；　not　quite。
　　　　But　someone　else's　will；　Ryan　told　himself。　The　thought　was　a　quiet；　distant　one；　voiced　in　a　part　of　his　mind　that　was　already　looking　at　the　future　while　the　present　occupied　his　sight。　Seeing　his　wife　weeping　tears　caused　by　someone　else　started　a　cold　rage　in　him　which　only　that　someone's　death　could　ever　warm。
　　　　The　time　for　grief　was　already　ending；　carried　away　by　his　own　tears。　Though　it　had　not　yet　happened；　Ryan's　intellect　was　already　beginning　to　think　of　the　time　when　his　emotions　would　be　at　rest　　most　of　them。　One　would　remain。　He　would　control　it；　but　it　would　also　control　him。　He　would　not　feel　like　a　whole　man　again　until　he　was　purged　of　it。
　　　　One　can　only　weep　for　so　long；　it　is　as　though　each　tear　carries　a　finite　amount　of　emotion　away　with　it。　Cathy　stopped　first。　She　used　her　hand　to　wipe　her　husband's　face。　She　managed　a　real　smile　now。　Jack　hadn't　shaved。　It　was　like　rubbing　sandpaper。　
　　　　〃What　time　is　it？〃　
　　　　〃Ten…thirty。〃　Jack　didn't　have　to　check　his　watch。
　　　　〃You　need　sleep；　Jack；〃　she　said。　〃You　have　to　stay　healthy；　too。〃　
　　　　〃Yeah。〃　Jack　rubbed　his　eyes。
　　　　〃Hi；　Cathy；〃　Robby　said　as　he　came　through　the　door。　〃I've　e　to　take　him　away　from　you。〃　
　　　　〃Good。〃
　　　　〃We're　checked　into　the　Holiday　Inn　over　on　Lombard　Street。〃　
　　　　〃We？　Robby；　you　don't　〃　
　　　　〃Stuff　it；　Jack；〃　Robby　said。　〃How　are　you；　Cathy？〃
　　　　〃I　have　a　headache　you　wouldn't　believe。〃
　　　　〃Good　to　see　you　smile；〃　Robby　said　softly。　〃Sissy'll　be　up　after　lunch。　Is　there　anything　she　can　get　for　you？〃　
　　　　〃Not　right　now。　Thanks；　Rob。〃
　　　　〃Hang　in　there；　Doc。〃　Robby　took　Jack's　arm　and　hauled　him　to　his　feet。　〃I'll　have　him　back　to　you　later　today。〃　
　　　　Twenty　minutes　later　Robby　led　Jack　into　their　motel　room。　He　pulled　a　pill　container　from　his　pocket。　〃The　doc　said　you　should　take　one　of　these。〃　
　　　　〃I　don't　take　pills。〃
　　　　〃You're　taking　one　of　these；　sport。　It's　a　nice　yellow　one。　That's　not　a　request；　Jack；　it's　an　order。　You　need　sleep。　Here。〃　Robby　tossed　them　over　and　stared　until　Jack　swallowed　one。　Ryan　was　asleep　in　ten　minutes。　Jackson　made　certain　that　the　door　was　secured　before　settling　down　on　the　other　bed。　The　pilot　dreamed　of　seeing　the　people　who　had　done　all　this。　They　were　in　an　airplane。　Four　times　he　fired　a　missile　into　their　bird　and　watched　their　bodies　spill　out　of　the　hole　it　made　so　that　he　could　blast　them　with　his　cannon　before　they　fell　into　the　sea。

　　　　The　Patriots　Club　was　a　bar　across　the　street　from　Broadway　Station　in　one　of　South　Boston's　Irish　enclaves。　Its　name　harkened　not　back　to　the　revolutionaries　of　the　1770s；　but　rather　to　the　owner's　image　of　himself。　John　Donoho　had　served　in　the　First　Marine　Division　on　the　bitter　retreat　from　the　Chosin　Reservoir。　Wounded　twice；　he'd　never　left　his　squad　on　the　long；　cold　march　to　the　port　of　Hungnam。　He　still　walked　with　a　slight　limp　from　the　four　toes　that　frostbite　had　taken　from　his　right　foot。　He　was　prouder　of　this　than　of　his　several　decorations；　framed　under　a　Marine　Corps　standard　behind　the　bar。　Anyone　who　entered　the　bar　in　a　Marine　uniform　always　got　his　first　drink　free；　along　with　a　story　or　two　about　the　Old　Corps；　which　Corporal　John　Donoho；　USMC　（ret。）；　had　served　at　the　ripe　age　of　eighteen。
　　　　He　was　also　a　professional　Irishman。　Every　year　he　took　an　Aer　Lingus　flight　from　Boston's　Logan　International　Airport　to　the　old　sod；　to　brush　up　on　his　roots　and　his　accent；　and　sample　the　better　varieties　of　whiskey　that　somehow　were　never　exported　to　America　in　quantity。　Donoho　also　tried　to　keep　current　on　the　happenings　in　the　North；　〃the　Six　Counties；〃　as　he　called　them；　to　maintain　his　spiritual　connection　with　the　rebels　who　labored　courageously　to　free　their　people　from　the　British　yoke。　Many　a　dollar　had　been　raised　in　his　bar；　to　aid　those　in　the　North；　many　a　glass　raised　to　their　health　and　to　the　Cause。
　　　　〃Hello；　Johnny！〃　Paddy　O'Neil　called　from　the　door。
　　　　〃And　good　evening　to　you；　Paddy！〃　Donoho　was　already　drawing　a　beer　when　he　saw　his　nephew　follow　O'Neil　through　the　door。　Eddie　was　his　dead　brother's　only　son；　a　good　boy；　educated　at　Notre　Dame；　where　he'd　played　second　string　on　the　football　team　before　joining　up　with　the　FBI。　It　wasn't　quite　as　good　as　being　a　Marine；　but　Uncle　John　knew　that　it　paid　a　lot　better。　He'd　heard　that　Eddie　was　following　O'Neil　around；　but　was　vaguely　sad　to　see　that　it　was　true。　Perhaps　it　was　to　protect　Paddy　from　a　Brit　assassin；　the　owner　rationalized。
　　　　John　and　Paddy　had　a　beer　together　before　the　latter　joined　a　small　group　waiting　for　him　in　the　back　room。　His　nephew　stayed　alone　at　the　end　of　the　bar；　where　he　drank　a　cup　of　coffee　and　kept　an　eye　on　things。　After　ten　minutes　O'Neil　went　back　to　give　his　talk。　Donoho　went　to　say　hello　to　his　nephew。　
　　　　〃Hi；　Uncle　John；〃　Eddie　greeted　him。
　　　　〃Have　you　set　the　date　yet；　now？〃　John　asked；　affecting　an　Irish　accent；　as　he　usually　did　when　O'Neil　was　around。　
　　　　〃Maybe　next　September；〃　the　younger　man　allowed。
　　　　〃And　what　would　your　father　say；　you　living　with　the　girl　for　almost　a　year？　And　the　good　fathers　at　Notre　Dame？〃　
　　　　〃Probably　the　same　thing　they'd　say　to　you　for　raising　money　for　terrorists；〃　the　young　agent　replied。　Eddie　was　sick　and　tired　of　being　told　how　to　live　his　life。
　　　　〃I　don't　want　to　hear　any　of　that　in　my　place。〃　He'd　heard　that　line　before；　too。
　　　　〃That's　what　O'Neil　does；　Uncle　John。〃
　　　　〃They're　freedom　fighters。　I　know　they　bend　some　of　our　laws　from　time　to　time；　but　the　English　laws　they　break　are　no　concern　of　mine　　or　yours；〃　John　Donoho　said　firmly。
　　　　〃You　watch　TV？〃　The　agent　didn't　need　an　answer　to　that。　A　wide…screen　TV　in　the　opposite　corner　was　used　for　baseball　and　football　games。　The　bar's　name　had　also　made　it　an　occasional　watering　hole　for　the　New　England　Patriots　football　players。　Uncle　John's　interest　in　TV　was　limited　to　the　Patriots；　Red　Sox；　Celtics；　and　Bruins。　His　interest　in　politics　was　virtually　nil。　He　voted　for　Teddy　Kennedy　every　six　years　and　considered　himself　a　staunch　proponent　of　national　defense。　〃I　want　to　show　you　a　couple　of　pictures。〃
　　　　He　set　the　first　one　on　the　bar。　〃This　is　a　little　girl　named　Sally　Ryan。　She　lives　in　Annapolis。〃
　　　　His　uncle　picked　it　up　and　smiled。　〃I　remember　when　my　Kathleen　looked　like　that。〃
　　　　〃Her　father　is　a　teacher　at　the　Naval　Academy；　used　to　be　a　Marine　lieutenant。　He　went　to　Boston　College。　His　father　was　a　cop。〃　
　　　　〃Sounds　like　a　good　Irishman。　Friend　of　yours？〃　
　　　　〃Not　exactly；〃　Eddie　said。　〃Paddy　and　I　met　him　earlier　today。　This　is　what　his　daughter　looked　like　then。〃　The　second　photo　was　laid　on　the　bar。
　　　　〃Jesus；　Mary；　and　Joseph。〃　It　wasn't　easy　to　discern　that　there　was　a　child　under　all　the　medical　equipment。　Her　feet　stuck　out　from　heavy　wrappings。　An　inch…wide　plastic　pipe　was　in　her　mouth；　and　what　parts　of　her　body　were　visible　formed　a　horribly　discolored　mass　that　the　photographer　had　recorded　with　remarkable　skill。
　　　　〃She's　the　lucky　one；　Uncle　John。　The　girl's　mother　was　there；　too。〃　Two　more　photos　went　onto　the　bar。
　　　　〃What　happened；　car　accident　　what　are　you　showing　me？〃　John　Donoho　asked。　He　really　didn't　know　what　this　was　all　about。
　　　　〃She's　a　surgeon　　she's　pregnant；　too；　the　pictures　don't　show　that。　Her　car　was　machine…gunned　yesterday；　right　outside　of　Annapolis；　Maryland。　They　killed　a　State　Police　officer　a　few　minutes　later。〃　Another　picture　went　down。　
　　　　〃What？　Who　did　it？〃　the　older　man　asked。
　　　　〃Here's　the　father；　Jack　Ryan。〃　It　was　the　same　picture　that　the　London　papers　had　used。　Jack's　graduation　shot　from　Quantico。　Eddie　knew　that　his　uncle　always　looked　at　Marine　dress　blues　with　pride。
　　　　〃I've　seen　him　before　somewhere　。　。　。　〃
　　　　〃Yeah。　He　stopped　a　terrorist　attack　over　in　London　a　few　months　back。　It　looks　like　he　offended　the　terrorists　enough　that　they　came　after　him　and　his　family。　The　Bureau　is　working　on　that。〃　
　　　　〃Who　did　it？〃
　　　　The　last　photo　went　down　on　the　bar。　It　showed　Ryan's　hands　less　than　a　foot　from　Paddy　O'Neil；　and　a　black　man　holding　him　back。
　　　　〃Who's　the　jig？〃　John　asked。　His　nephew　almost　lost　his　temper。
　　　　〃Goddammit；　Uncle　John！　That　man　is　a　Navy　fighter　pilot。〃　
　　　　〃Oh。〃　John　was　briefly　embarrassed。　He　had　little　use　for　blacks；　though　one　who　wore　a　Marine　uniform　into　his　bar　got　his　first　drink　free；　too。　It　was　different　with　the　ones　in　uniform；　he　told　himself。　Anyone　who　served　the　flag　as　he　had　done　was　okay　in　his　book；　John　Donoho　always　said。　Some　of　my　best　friends　in　the　Corps　。　。　。　He　remembered　how　Navy　strike　aircraft　had　supported　his　outfit　all　the　way　back　to　the　sea；　holding　the　Chinese　back　with　rockets　and　napalm。　Well；　maybe　this　one　was　different；　too。　He　stared　at　the　rest　of　the　picture　for　a　few　seconds。　〃So；　you　say　Paddy　had　something　to　do　with　this？〃　
　　　　〃I've　been　telling　you　for　years　who　the　bastard　fronts　for。　If　you　don't　believe　me；　maybe　you　want　to　ask　Mr。　Ryan　here。　It's　bad　enough　that　O'Neil　spits　on　our　whole　country　every　time　he　es　over　here。　His　friends　damned　near　killed　this　whole　family　yesterday。　We　got　one　of　'em。　Two　Marine　guards　at　the　Naval　Academy　grabbed　him；　waiting　to　shoot　Ryan。　His　name's　Eamon　Clark；　and　we　know　that　he　used　to　work　for　the　Provisional　Wing　of　the　IRA　　we　know　it。　Uncle　John；　he's　a　convicted　murderer。　They　caught　him　with　a　loaded　pistol　in　his　pocket。　You　still　think　they're　good　guys？　Dammit；　they're　going　after　Americans　now！　If　you　don't　believe　me；　believe　this！〃　Eddie　Donoho　rearranged　the　photos　on　the　wooden　surface。　〃This　little　girl；　and　her　mother；　and　a　kid　not　even　born　yet　almost　died　yesterday。　This　state　trooper　did。　He　left　a　wife　and　a　kid　behind。　That　friend　of　yours　in　the　back　room　raises　the　money　to　buy　the　guns；　he's　connected　with　the　people　who　did　this。〃　
　　　　〃But　why？〃
　　　　〃Like　I　said；　this　girl's　dad　got　in　the　way　of　a　murder　over　in　London。　I　guess　the　people　he　stopped　wanted　to　get　even　with　him　　not　just　him；　though；　they　went　for　his　whole　family；〃　the　agent　explained　slowly。　
　　　　〃The　little　girl　didn't　〃
　　　　〃Goddammit；〃　Eddie　swore　again。　〃That's　why　they're　called　terrorists！〃　It　was　getting　through。　He　could　see　that　he　was　finally　getting　the　message　across。
　　　　〃You're　sure　that　Paddy　is　part