Clear and present danger - Tom Clancy [257]
"Thank you. Good morning, Dr. Ryan."
Ryan collected his papers and left. It was like something dimly remembered from the Bible. He'd been measured and found wanting by the man who might be his country's next President. He was even more disturbed by his reaction to it: Fuck him. He'd fulfilled Fowler's own observation. It was a very dumb thing to think.
"Kick it loose, big brother!" Tim Jackson said. Robby cracked open one eye to see Timmy clad in his multicolored uniform and boots. "It's time for our morning run."
"I remember changing your diapers."
"You gotta catch me first. Come on, you got five minutes to get ready."
Captain Jackson grinned up at his little brother. He was in pretty good shape, and a kendo master. "I'm gonna run your ass right into the ground."
Pride goeth before the fall, Captain Jackson told himself fifteen minutes later. He would have settled for a fall. If he fell down, he might rest for a few seconds. When he started staggering, Tim backed the pace off.
"You win," Robby gasped. "I ain't gonna change your diapers again."
"Hey, we've barely done two miles."
"A carrier's only a thousand feet long!"
"Yeah, and I bet the steel deck's bad on the knees, too. Go on, head back and get breakfast ready, sir. I got two more miles to do."
"Aye aye, sir." Where are my kendo sticks? Robby thought, I can still whip his ass at that!
It took Robby five minutes to find his way back to the right BOQ building. He passed a number of officers heading to or from their runs, and for the first time in his life, Robby Jackson felt old. It was hardly fair. He was one of the youngest captains in the Navy, and still one hell of a fighter pilot. He also knew how to fix breakfast. It was all on the table when Timmy got back.
"Don't feel too bad, Rob. This is what I do for a living. I can't fly airplanes."
"Shut up and drink your juice."
"Where the hell did you say you were?"
"Aboard Ranger - that's a carrier, boy. Observing ops off Panama. My boss gets into Monterey this afternoon and I'm s'posed to meet him there."
"Down where the bombs are going off," Tim observed as he buttered his toast.
"Another one last night?" Robby asked. Well, that made sense, didn't it?
"Looks like we bagged us another druggie. Nice to see the CIA, or somebody, grew hisself a pair of balls for a change. Love to know how the guys are getting the bombs in."
"What do you mean?" Robby asked. Something wasn't right.
"Rob, I know what's going down. It's some of our people down there doin' it."
"Tim, you've lost me."
Second Lieutenant Timothy Jackson, Infantry, leaned across the breakfast table in the conspiratorial way of junior officers. "Look, I know it's a secret and all, but, hell, how smart do you have to be? One of my people is down there right now. Figure it out, man. One of my best people disappears, don't show up where he's supposed to be - where the Army thinks he is, for Christ's sake. He's a Spanish speaker. So are some others who checked out funny, Muñoz out of recon, León, two others I heard about. All Spanish speakers, okay? Then all of a sudden there's some serious ass-kickin' going on down in banana land. Hey, how smart you gotta be?"
"Have you told anyone about this?"
"Why tell anybody? I'm a little worried about Chavez - he's one of my people, and I worry a little about him, but he's one good fucking soldier. Far as I'm concerned, he can kill all the druggies he wants. I just want to know how they did the bombs. That might come in handy someday. I'm thinking about going special-ops."
The Navy did the bombs, Timmy, Robby thought very loudly indeed.
"How much talk is there about this?"
"About the first bombing, everybody thought that was pretty good, but talk about our people bein' involved? Uh-uh. Maybe some folks're thinking the same way I am, but you don't talk about shit like that. Security, right?"
"That's right, Tim."
"You know a senior Agency guy, right?"
"Sort of. Godfather