Executive orders - Tom Clancy [445]
He won't be the only one, Murray concluded bleakly.
I don't think so.
WILL YOU COME with me, please?
I've seen you before, but-
Jeff Raman, sir.
The admiral took his hand. Robby Jackson.
The agent smiled. I know that, sir.
It was a pleasant walk, though it would have been more so without the obvious presence of armed men. The mountain air was cool and clear, lots of stars blinking overhead.
How's he doing? Robby asked the agent.
Tough day. A lot of good people dead.
And some bad ones, too. Jackson would always be a fighter pilot, for whom inflicted death was part of the job description. They turned into the Presidential Quarters.
Both Robby and Sissy were struck by the scene. Not parents themselves-Cecilia's medical problem had not allowed it, despite the best of efforts-they didn't fully understand how it was with kids. The most horrific events, if followed by a parent's hug and other signs of security, were usually set aside. The world, especially for Katie, had resumed its proper shape. But there would be nightmares, too, and those would last for weeks, maybe longer, until the memories faded. Embraces were exchanged, and then also as usual, man paired with man and woman with woman. Robby got himself a glass of wine and followed Jack outside.
How you doing, Jack? By unspoken agreement, here and now Ryan wasn't the President.
The shock comes and goes, he admitted. It's all come back from before. The bastards can't just come after me-oh, no, they have to go for the soft targets. Those cowardly fucks! Jack cursed as it came back again.
Jackson sipped at his glass. There wasn't a whole hell of a lot to be said right now, but that would change.
It's my first time here, Robby said, just to say something.
My first time-would you believe we buried a guy up here? Jack remarked, remembering. He was a Russian colonel, an agent we had in their Defense Ministry. Hell of a soldier, hero of the Soviet Union, three or four times, I think, we buried him in his uniform with all the decorations. I read off the citations myself. That's when we got Gerasimov out.
The KGB head. So, that's true, eh?
Yep. Ryan nodded. And you know about Colombia, and you know about the submarine. How the hell did those newsies find out, though?
Robby almost laughed aloud, but settled for a chuckle. Holy God, and I thought my career was eventful.
You volunteered for yours, Jack observed crossly.
So did you, my friend.
Think so? Ryan went back inside for a refill. He returned with the night-vision goggles and switched them on, scanning the surroundings. I didn't volunteer for having my family guarded by a company of Marines. There's three of them down there, flak jackets, helmets, and rifles-and why? Because there's people in the world who want to kill us. Why? Because-
I'll tell you why. Because you're better than they are, Jack. You stand for things, and they're good things. Because you've got balls, and you don't run away from shit. I don't want to hear this, Jack, Robby told his friend. Don't give me this 'oh, my God' stuff, okay? I know who you are. I'm a fighter pilot because I chose to be one. You're where you are because you chose, too. Nobody ever said it was supposed to be easy, okay?
But-
But, my ass, Mr. President. There's people out there who don't like you? Okay, fine. You just figure out how to find them, and then you can ask those Marines out there to go take care of business. You know what they'll say. You may be hated by some, but you're respected and loved by a lot more, and I'm telling you now, there's not one person in our country's uniform who isn't willing to dust anybody who