Clear and present danger - Tom Clancy [304]
My God. Cutter looked away from Cortez, out past the bug lights into the jungle.
"What do you suppose they're talking about?"
"Beats the hell out of me," Bright replied. He was on his last roll of film. Even with the high-speed setting, to get a good shot he had to bring the shutter speed way down, and that meant holding the camera as still as a hunting rifle on a distant prong-horn.
What was it the President said? Close the operation out, and I don't care how…
But I can't do that.
"Sorry," Cutter said. "Impossible."
Cortez made a helpless, shrugging gesture with both hands.
"In that case we will inform the world that your government has invaded Colombia and has committed murder on a particularly epic scale. You are aware, of course, of what will probably happen to you, your President, and many senior members of your government. It took so long for you to get over all those other scandals. It must be very troubling to serve a government that has so many problems with its own laws and then uses them against its own servants."
"You can't blackmail the United States government."
"Why not, Admiral? Our mutual profession carries risks, does it not? You nearly killed me with your first 'car bomb,' and yet I have taken no personal offense. Your risk is exposure. Untiveros's family was there, you know, his wife and two little ones, eleven domestic servants, I believe. All dead from your bomb. I will not count those who were carrying guns, of course. A soldier must take a soldier's chance. As did I. As must you, Admiral, except that yours is not a soldier's chance. Your chance will be before your courts and television reporters, and congressional committees." What was the old soldier's code? Cortez asked himself. Death before dishonor. He knew that his guest had no stomach for either.
"I need time to -"
"Think? Excuse me, Admiral, but I must be back in four hours, which means I must leave here in fifteen minutes. My superiors do not know that I am gone. I have no time. Neither do you. I offer you the victory for which you and your President hoped. I require something in return. If we cannot agree, then the consequences will be unpleasant for both of us. It is that simple. Yes or no, Admiral?"
"What do you suppose they just shook hands about?"
"Cutter doesn't look real happy about it. Call the car! Looks like they're buggin' out."
"Who the hell was he meeting with, anyway? I don't recognize him. If he's a player, he's not a local one."
"I don't know." The car was late getting back, but the backup followed Cutter right back to his hotel. By the time Bright got back to the airfield, he learned that the subject was planning a good night's sleep for himself. The VC-20A was scheduled for a noon departure right back to Andrews. Bright planned to beat it there by taking an early commercial flight to Miami and connecting into Washington National. He'd arrive half dead from fatigue, but he'd get there.
Ryan took the call for the Director - Judge Moore was finally on his way back, but was still three hours out of Dulles. Jack's driver was ready as the executive elevator opened onto the garage, and they immediately left for Bethesda. They got there too late. Jack opened the door to see the bed covered with a sheet. The doctors had already left.
"I was there at the end. He went out easy," one of the CIA people told him. Jack didn't recognize him, though he gave the impression that he'd been waiting for Jack to appear. "You're Dr. Ryan, right?"
"Yes," Jack said quietly.
"About an hour before he faded out, he said something about - to remember what you two talked about. I don't know what he meant, sir."
"I don't know you."
"John Clark." The man came over to shake Ryan's hand. "I'm Operations, but Admiral Greer recruited me, too, long time ago." Clark let out a breath. "Like losing a father. Twice."
"Yeah," Ryan said huskily. He was too tired, too wrung out to hide his emotions.
"Come on, I'll