Patriot games - Tom Clancy [227]
"Can't you cancel?"
"It's a going-away party. Robby-he's a Navy fighter pilot, we both teach at the Academy-is transferring back to the fleet. Would they mind?"
"Doctor Ryan, His Highness-"
"His Highness is a good guy. So's Robby. He was there that night we met. I can't cancel him out, Mr. Bennett. He's a friend. The good news is. His Highness will like him. He used to fly fighter planes, too, right?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"Do you remember the night we met? Without Robby I might not have gotten through it. Look, this guy's a lieutenant commander in the United States Navy who happens to fly a forty-million-dollar fighter airplane. He probably is not a security risk. His wife plays one hell of a piano." Ryan saw that he hadn't quite gotten through yet. "Mr. Bennett, check Rob out through your attache and ask His Highness if it's all right."
"And if he objects?"
"He won't. I've met him. Maybe he's a better guy than you give him credit for," Jack observed. He won't object, you dummy. It's the security pukes who'll throw a fit.
"Well." That remark took him somewhat aback. "I cannot fault your sense of loyalty. Doctor. I will pass this through His Highness's office. But I must insist that you do not tell Commander Jackson anything."
"You have my word." Jack nearly laughed. He couldn't wait to see the look on Robby's face. This would finally even the score for that kendo match.
"Contraction peaks," Jack said that night. They were practicing the breathing exercises in preparation for the delivery. His wife started panting. Jack knew that this was a serious business. It merely looked ridiculous. He checked the numbers on his digital watch. "Contraction ends. Deep, cleansing breath. I figure steaks on the grill, baked potatoes, and fresh corn on the cob, with a nice salad."
"It's too plain," Cathy protested.
"Everywhere they go over here, people will be hitting them with that fancy French crap. Somebody ought to give them a decent American meal. You know I do a mean steak on the grill, and your spinach salad is famous from here to across the road."
"Okay." Cathy started laughing. It was becoming uncomfortable for her to do so. "If I stand over a stove for more than a few minutes, I get nauseous anyway."
"It must be tough, being pregnant."
"You should try it," she suggested.
Her husband went on: "It's the only hard thing women have to do, of course."
"What!" Cathy's eyes nearly popped out.
"Look at history. Who has to go out and kill the buffalo? The man. Who has, to carry the buffalo back? The man. Who has to drive off the bear? The man. We do all the hard stuff. I still have to take out the garbage every night! Do I ever complain about that?" He had her laughing again. He'd read her mood right. She didn't want sympathy. She was too proud of herself for that.
"I'd hit you on the head, but there's no sense in breaking a perfectly good club over something worthless."
"Besides, I was there the last time, and it didn't look all that hard."
"If I could move, Jack, I'd kill you for that one!"
He moved from opposite his wife to beside her. "Nah, I don't think so. I want you to form a picture in your mind."
"Of what?"
"Of the look on Robby's face when he gets here for dinner. I'm going to jiggle the time a little."
"I'll bet you that Sissy handles it better than he does."
"How much?"
"Twenty."
"Deal." He looked at his watch. "Contraction begins. Deep breath." A minute later, Jack was amazed to see that he was breathing the same way as his wife. That got them both laughing.
* * *
24
Connections Missed and Made
here were no new pictures of Camp-18 the day of the raid. A sandstorm had swept over the area at the time of the satellite pass, and the cameras couldn't penetrate it, but a geosynchronous weather satellite showed that the storm had left the site. Ryan was cued after lunch that day that the raid was on, and spent his afternoon in fidgety anticipation. Careful analysis of the existing photos showed that between twelve and eighteen people were at the camp, over and above