Executive orders - Tom Clancy [525]
Yes, sir. For once, Andrea Price was cowed, POTUS saw. As was he. The psychological impact of this was horrific. Dr. James tapped the President on the shoulder.
Follow me. I know it's scary, but you are safe in this thing. We all had to get used to it, too, didn't we. Tisha?
The nurse turned, now fully in hers. Yes, Doctor.
You could hear your breathing. There was the whir of the A/C pack, but everything else was muted. Ryan felt a frightening sense of confinement as he walked behind the dean.
Cathy's in here. He opened the door. Ryan entered.
It was a child, a boy, aged eight or so, Jack saw. Two blue-clad figures were ministering to him. From behind he couldn't tell which one was his wife. Dr. James held his hand up, forbidding Ryan from taking another step. One of the two was trying to restart an IV, and there couldn't be any distractions. The child was moaning, writhing on the bed. Ryan couldn't see much of him, but he saw enough for his stomach to turn.
Hold still now. This will make you feel better. It was Cathy's voice; evidently she was doing the stick. The other two hands were holding the arm in place. there. Tape, she added, lifting her hands.
Good stick, Doctor.
Thank you. Cathy went to the electronic box that controlled the morphine and pushed in the right numbers, checking to be sure that the machine started functioning properly. With that done, she turned. Oh.
Hi, honey.
Jack, you don't belong here, SURGEON told him firmly.
Who does?
OKAY, I HAVE a line on this Dr. MacGregor, the station chief told them, driving his red Chevy. His name was Frank Clayton, a graduate of Grambling, whom Clark had seen through the Farm some years earlier.
Then let's go see him, Frank. Clark checked his watch, did the calculations, and decided that it was two hours after midnight. He grunted. Yeah, that was about right. First stop was the embassy, where they changed clothes. American military uniforms weren't all that welcome here. In fact, the station chief warned, few things American were. Chavez noted that a car followed them in from the airport.
Don't sweat it. We'll lose him at the embassy. You know, sometimes I wonder if it wasn't a good deal when my folks got kidnapped out of Africa. Don't tell anybody I said that, okay? South Alabama is like heaven on earth compared to this shithole.
He parked the car in the embassy's back lot and took them inside. A minute later one of his people walked out, started the Chevy, and headed right back out. The tail car went with him.
Shirts, the CIA resident officer said, handing them over. I suppose you can leave the pants on.
Have you talked to MacGregor? Clark asked.
On the phone a few hours ago. We're going to drive over to where he lives, and he's going to get into the car. I have a nice quiet parking spot picked out for our chat, Clayton told them.
Any danger to him?
I doubt it. The locals are pretty sloppy. If we have anybody tailing us, I know what to do about it.
Then let's move, buddy, John said. We're burning moonlight.
MacGregor's quarters weren't all that bad, located in a district favored by Europeans, and, the station chief related, fairly secure. He lifted his cellular phone and dialed the doctor's beeper number-there was a local paging service. Less than a minute later his door opened, and a figure walked to the car, got in the back, and closed the door a second before it moved off.
This is rather unusual for me. He was younger than Chavez, John was surprised to note, and eager in rather a shy way. Who exactly are you chaps?
CIA, Clark told him.
Indeed!
Indeed, Doctor, Clayton said