Read Online Jack Ryan 2 - Patriot Games by Tom Clancy - Free Book Online
Authors: Tom Clancy
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long will I have Mr. Wilson here?”
“Indefinitely. The ULA are likely to be somewhat annoyed with you,” Owens said. “And it would be most embarrassing for us if they were to make an attempt on your life and find you unprotected. We do not regard this as likely, mind, but one must be careful.”
“I can live with that,” Ryan agreed. I make a hell of a target here, don't I? A third-grader could kill me with a Popsicle stick.
“The press want to see you,” Taylor said.
“I'm thrilled.” Just what I need, Ryan thought. “Could you hold them off a bit?”
“Simple enough,” Owens agreed. “Your medical condition does not permit it at the moment. But you should get used to the idea. You are now something of a public figure.”
“Like hell!” Ryan snorted. “I like being obscure.” Then you should have stayed behind the tree, dumbass! Just what have you got yourself into?
“You can't refuse to see them indefinitely, you know,” Taylor said gently.
Jack let out a long breath. “You're correct, of course. But not today. Tomorrow is soon enough.” Let the hubbub die down some first, Ryan thought stupidly.
“One cannot always stay in the shadows. Doctor Ryan,” Ashley said, standing. The others took their cue from him.
The cops and Ashley -- Ryan now had him pegged as some kind of spook, intelligence or counterintelligence -- took their leave. Wilson came back in, with Kittiwake trailing behind.
“Did they tire you out?” the nurse asked.
“I think I'll live,” Ryan allowed. Kittiwake thrust a thermometer in his mouth to make sure.
Forty minutes after the police had left, Ryan was typing happily away on his computer-toy, reviewing notes and drafting some fresh copy. Cathy Ryan's most frequent (and legitimate) complaint about her husband was that while he was reading -- or worse, writing -- the world could end around him without his taking notice. This was not entirely true. Jack did notice Wilson jumping to attention out the corner of his eye, but he did not look up until he had finished the paragraph. When he did, he saw that his new visitors were Her Majesty, the Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, and her husband, the Duke of Edinburgh. His first coherent thought was a mental curse that no one had warned him. His second, that he must look very funny with his mouth hanging open.
“Good morning, Doctor Ryan,” the Queen said agreeably. “How are you feeling?”
“Uh, quite well, thank you, uh, Your Majesty. Won't you, uh, please sit down?” Ryan tried to sit more erect in his bed, but was halted by a flash of pain from his shoulder. It helped to center his thoughts and reminded him that his medication was nearly due.
“We have no wish to impose,” she said. Ryan sensed that she didn't wish to leave right away, either. He took a second to frame his response.
“Your Majesty, a visit from a head of state hardly qualifies as an imposition. I would be most grateful for your company.” Wilson hustled to get two chairs and excused himself out the door as they sat.
The Queen was dressed in a peach-colored suit whose elegant simplicity must have made a noteworthy dent even in her clothing budget. The Duke was in a dark blue suit which finally made Ryan understand why his wife wanted him to buy some clothes over here.
“Doctor Ryan,” she said formally, “on our behalf, and that of our people, we wish to express to you our most profound gratitude for your action of yesterday. We are very much in your debt.”
Ryan nodded soberly. He wondered just how awful he looked. “For my own part, ma'am, I am glad that I was able to be of service -- but the truth of the matter is that I didn't really do all that much. Anyone could have done the same thing. I just happened to be the closest.”
“The police say otherwise,” the Duke observed. “And after viewing the scene myself, I am inclined to agree with them. I'm afraid you're a hero whether you like it or
“Indefinitely. The ULA are likely to be somewhat annoyed with you,” Owens said. “And it would be most embarrassing for us if they were to make an attempt on your life and find you unprotected. We do not regard this as likely, mind, but one must be careful.”
“I can live with that,” Ryan agreed. I make a hell of a target here, don't I? A third-grader could kill me with a Popsicle stick.
“The press want to see you,” Taylor said.
“I'm thrilled.” Just what I need, Ryan thought. “Could you hold them off a bit?”
“Simple enough,” Owens agreed. “Your medical condition does not permit it at the moment. But you should get used to the idea. You are now something of a public figure.”
“Like hell!” Ryan snorted. “I like being obscure.” Then you should have stayed behind the tree, dumbass! Just what have you got yourself into?
“You can't refuse to see them indefinitely, you know,” Taylor said gently.
Jack let out a long breath. “You're correct, of course. But not today. Tomorrow is soon enough.” Let the hubbub die down some first, Ryan thought stupidly.
“One cannot always stay in the shadows. Doctor Ryan,” Ashley said, standing. The others took their cue from him.
The cops and Ashley -- Ryan now had him pegged as some kind of spook, intelligence or counterintelligence -- took their leave. Wilson came back in, with Kittiwake trailing behind.
“Did they tire you out?” the nurse asked.
“I think I'll live,” Ryan allowed. Kittiwake thrust a thermometer in his mouth to make sure.
Forty minutes after the police had left, Ryan was typing happily away on his computer-toy, reviewing notes and drafting some fresh copy. Cathy Ryan's most frequent (and legitimate) complaint about her husband was that while he was reading -- or worse, writing -- the world could end around him without his taking notice. This was not entirely true. Jack did notice Wilson jumping to attention out the corner of his eye, but he did not look up until he had finished the paragraph. When he did, he saw that his new visitors were Her Majesty, the Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, and her husband, the Duke of Edinburgh. His first coherent thought was a mental curse that no one had warned him. His second, that he must look very funny with his mouth hanging open.
“Good morning, Doctor Ryan,” the Queen said agreeably. “How are you feeling?”
“Uh, quite well, thank you, uh, Your Majesty. Won't you, uh, please sit down?” Ryan tried to sit more erect in his bed, but was halted by a flash of pain from his shoulder. It helped to center his thoughts and reminded him that his medication was nearly due.
“We have no wish to impose,” she said. Ryan sensed that she didn't wish to leave right away, either. He took a second to frame his response.
“Your Majesty, a visit from a head of state hardly qualifies as an imposition. I would be most grateful for your company.” Wilson hustled to get two chairs and excused himself out the door as they sat.
The Queen was dressed in a peach-colored suit whose elegant simplicity must have made a noteworthy dent even in her clothing budget. The Duke was in a dark blue suit which finally made Ryan understand why his wife wanted him to buy some clothes over here.
“Doctor Ryan,” she said formally, “on our behalf, and that of our people, we wish to express to you our most profound gratitude for your action of yesterday. We are very much in your debt.”
Ryan nodded soberly. He wondered just how awful he looked. “For my own part, ma'am, I am glad that I was able to be of service -- but the truth of the matter is that I didn't really do all that much. Anyone could have done the same thing. I just happened to be the closest.”
“The police say otherwise,” the Duke observed. “And after viewing the scene myself, I am inclined to agree with them. I'm afraid you're a hero whether you like it or
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