Patriot games - Tom Clancy [10]
"No, sir. I'm with C-13, Anti-Terrorist Branch."
"Can you fill me in on what happened yesterday? I kinda missed a few things."
"How much do you remember. Doctor?" Wilson slid his chair closer. Ryan noted that he remained halfway facing the door, and kept his right hand free.
"I saw-well, I heard an explosion, a hand grenade, I think-and when I turned I saw two guys shooting the hell out of a Rolls-Royce. IRA, I guess. I took two of them out, and another one got away in a car. The cavalry arrived, and I passed out and woke up here."
"Not IRA. ULA-Ulster Liberation Army, a Maoist offshoot of the Provos. Nasty buggers. The one you killed was John Michael McCrory, a very bad boy from Londonderry -one of the chaps who escaped from the Maze last July. This is the first time he's surfaced since. And the last"- Wilson smiled coldly- "we haven't identified the other chap yet. That is, not as of when I came on duty three hours ago."
"ULA?" Ryan shrugged. He remembered hearing the name, though he couldn't talk about that. "The guy I-killed. He had an AK, but when I came around the car he was using a pistol. How come?"
"The fool jammed it. He had two full magazines taped end to end, like you see all the time in the movies, but like they trained us specifically not to do in the paras. We reckon he bashed it, probably when he came out of the car. The second magazine was bent at the top end-wouldn't feed the rounds properly, you see. Damn good luck for you. You knew you were going after a chap with a Kalashnikov?" Wilson examined Ryan's face closely.
Jack nodded. "Doesn't sound real smart, does it?"
"You bloody fool." Wilson said this just as Kittiwake came through the door with a tea tray. The nurse flashed the cop an emphatically disapproving look as she set the tray on the bedstand and wheeled it over. Kittiwake arranged things just so, and poured Ryan a cup with delicacy. Wilson had to do his own.
"So who was in the car, anyway?" Ryan asked. He noted strong reactions.
"You didn't know?" Kittiwake was dumbfounded.
"There wasn't much time to find out." Ryan dropped two packets of brown sugar into his cup. His stirring stopped abruptly when Wilson answered his question.
"The Prince and Princess of Wales. And their new baby."
Ryan's head snapped around. "What?"
"You really didn't know?" the nurse asked.
"You're serious," Ryan said quietly. They wouldn't kid about this, would they?
"Too bloody right. I'm serious," Wilson went on, his voice very even. Only his choice of words betrayed how deeply the affair disturbed him. "Except for you, they would all three be quite dead, and that makes you a bloody hero. Doctor Ryan." Wilson sipped his tea neatly and fished out a cigarette.
Ryan set his cup down. "You mean you let them drive around here without a police or secret service-whatever you call it-without an escort?"
"Supposedly it was an unscheduled trip. Security arrangements for the Royals are not my department in any case. I would speculate, however, that those whose department it is will be rethinking a few things," Wilson commented.
"They weren't hurt?"
"No, but their driver was killed. So was their security escort from DPG-Diplomatic Protection Group-Charlie Winston. I knew Charlie. He had a wife, you know, and four children, all grown."
Ryan observed that the Rolls should have had bulletproof glass.
Wilson grunted. "It did have bulletproof glass. Actually plastic, a complex polycarbonate material. Unfortunately, no one seems to have read what it said on the box. The guarantee is only for a year. Turns out that sunlight breaks the material down somehow or other. The windshield was no more use than ordinary safety glass. Our friend McCrory put thirty rounds into it, and it quite simply shattered, killing the driver first. The interior partition, thank God, had not been exposed to sunlight, and remained intact. The last thing Charlie did