Patriot games - Tom Clancy [194]
"I never wanted to be a policeman." Ashley smiled and shook his head.
"I didn't get my wish, either. I wanted to be an engine driver when I was six, but my father said there were enough railway people in the family. So I became a copper." Both men laughed. There wasn't anything else to do.
"I'll increase the surveillance on Cooley's trips abroad. I don't think there's much more to be done on your side," Ashley said finally.
"We have to wait for them to make a mistake. Sooner or later they all do, you know."
"But soon enough?" That was the question.
"Here we are," Alex said.
"How did you get these?" Miller asked in amazement.
"Routine, man. Power companies shoot aerial photographs of their territory all the time. They help us plan the surveys we have to do. And here"- he reached into his briefcase- "is a topographic map. There's your target, boy." Alex handed him a magnifying glass borrowed from his company. It was a color shot, taken on a bright sunny day. You could tell the makes of the cars. It must have been done the previous summer-the grass had just been cut
"How tall is the cliff?"
"Enough that you don't want to fall off it. Tricky, too. I forget what it's made of, sandstone or something crumbly, but you want to be careful with it. See that fence here? The man knows to keep away from the edge. We have the same problem at our reactor plant at Calvert Cliff. It's the same geological structure, and a lot of work went into giving the plant a solid foundation."
"Only one road in," Miller noted.
"Dead end, too. That is a problem. We have these gullies here and here. Notice that the power line comes in cross-country, from this road over here. It looks like there was an old farm road that connected with this one, but they let it go to seed. That's going to be helpful."
"How? No one can use it."
"I'll tell you later. Friday, you and me are going fishing."
"What?" Miller looked up in surprise.
"You want to eyeball the cliff, right? Besides, the blues are running. I love bluefish."
Breckenridge had silhouette targets up, finally. Jack's trips to the range were less frequent now, mainly in the mornings before class. If nothing else, the incident outside the gate had told the Marine and civilian guards that their jobs were valuable. Two Marines and one of the civilians were also firing their service pieces. They didn't just shoot to qualify now. They were all shooting for scores. Jack hit the button to reel his target in. His rounds were all clustered in the center of the target.
"Pretty good, Doc." The Sergeant Major was standing behind him. "If you want, we can run a competition string. I figure you'll qualify for a medal now."
Ryan shook his head. He still had to shower after his morning jog. "I'm not doing this for score, Gunny."
"When does the little girl come home?"
"Next Wednesday, I hope."
"That's good, sir. Who's going to look after her?"
"Cathy's taking a few weeks off."
"My wife asked if y'all might need any help," Breckenridge said.
Jack turned in surprise. "Sissy-Commander Jackson's wife-will be over most of the time. Please thank your wife for us, Gunny, that's damned nice of her."
"No big deal. Any luck finding the bastards?" Ryan's day-hops to CIA were not much of a secret.
"Not yet."
"Good morning, Alex," the field superintendent said. "You're staying in a little late. What can I do for you?" Bert Griffin was always in early, but he rarely saw Dobbens before he went home at seven every morning.
"I've been looking over the specifications on that new Westinghouse transformer."
"Getting