Patriot games - Tom Clancy [113]
"No problem," Ryan said. "I can keep it where she can't reach it-we got a big closet, and I can keep them there, seven feet off the floor. Can I practice with a big-bore handgun in here?"
The Sergeant Major laughed. "That backstop we got used to be the armor plate on a heavy cruiser. Mainly we use.22's in here, but my guards practice with.45's all the time. Sounds to me like you know shotgunnin' pretty good. Once you have that skill with pistol too, you'll be able to do it with any gun you pick up. Trust me, sir, this is what I do for a living."
"When do you want me here?"
"Say about four, every afternoon?"
Ryan nodded. "Okay."
"About your wife-look, just bring her over some Saturday maybe. I'll sit her down and talk to her about guns. Lots of women, they're just afraid of the noise-and there's all that crap on TV. If nothing else, we'll get her used to shotgunning. You say she's a doc, so she's gotta be pretty smart. Hell, maybe she'll like it. You'd be surprised how many of the gals I teach really get into it."
Ryan shook his head. Cathy had never once touched his shotgun, and whenever he cleaned it, kept Sally out of the room. Jack hadn't thought much about it, and hadn't minded having Sally out of the way. Little kids and firearms were not a happy mixture. At home he usually had the Remington disassembled and the ammunition locked away in the basement. How would Cathy react to having a loaded gun in the house?
What if you start carrying a gun around? How will she react to that? What if the bad guys are interested in going after them, too ?
"I know what you're thinkin', Lieutenant," Breckenridge said. "Hey, the Commander said the FBI didn't think any of this crap was gonna happen, right?"
"Yeah."
"So what you're doin' is buyin' insurance, okay?"
"He said that, too," Ryan replied.
"Look-we get intel reports here, sir. Yeah, that's right. Ever since those bike bums broke in, we get stuff from the cops and the FBI, and from some other places-even the Coast Guard. Some of their guys come here for firearms training, 'cause of the drug stuff they got 'em doing now. I'll keep an ear out, too," Breckenridge assured him.
Information- it's all a battle for information. You have to know what's happening if you're going to do anything about it. Jack turned back to look at Jackson while he made a decision that he'd been trying to avoid ever since he got back from England. He still had the number in his office.
"And if they tell you those bike bums are coming back?" Ryan asked with a smile.
"They'll wish they didn't," the Sergeant Major said seriously. "This is a U.S. Navy reservation, guarded by the United States Marine Corps."
And that's the name of that tune, Ryan thought. "Well, thanks, Gunny. I'll get out of your way."
Breckenridge saw them to the door. "Sixteen hundred tomorrow, Lieutenant. How about you, Commander Jackson?"
"I'll stick to missiles and cannons, Gunny. Safer that way. G'night."
"Good night, sir."
Robby walked Jack back to his office. They had to pass on the daily drinks. Jackson had to do some shopping on the way home. After his friend left. Jack stared at his telephone for several minutes. Somehow he'd managed to avoid doing this for several weeks despite his wish to track down information on the ULA. But it wasn't just curiosity anymore. Ryan