Patriot games - Tom Clancy [230]
"Yes, one helicopter was damaged, but managed to return to base. No casualties."
"Please thank your people for trying, Colonel." Cantor excused himself and walked to his private bathroom. Once in there, he threw up. His ulcers were bleeding again. Marty tried to stand, but found himself faint. He fell against the door with a hard rap on the head.
Jack heard the noise and went to see what it was. It was hard to open the door, but he finally saw Marty lying there. Ryan's first instinct was to tell Jean-Claude to call for a doctor, but Jack himself didn't know how to do that here. He helped Marty to his feet and led him back into his office, setting him in a chair.
"What's the matter?"
"He just tossed up blood-how do you call " Ryan said the hell with it and dialed Admiral Greer's line.
"Marty's collapsed-we need a doctor here."
"I'll take care of it. Be there in two minutes," the Admiral answered.
Jack went into the bathroom and got a glass of water and some toilet paper. He used this to wipe Cantor's mouth, then held up the glass. "Wash your mouth out."
"I'm okay," the man protested.
"Bullshit," Ryan replied. "You jerk. You've been working too damned late, trying to finish up all your stuff before you leave, right?"
"Got-got to."
"What you got to do, Marty, is get the hell out of here before it eats you up."
Cantor gagged again.
You weren't kidding, Marty, Jack thought. The war is being fought here, too, and you're one of the casualties. You wanted that mission to score as much as I did.
"What the hell!" Greer entered the room. He even looked a little disheveled.
"His ulcers let go," Jack explained. "He's been puking blood."
"Aw, Jesus, Marty!" the Admiral said.
Ryan hadn't known that there was a medical dispensary at Langley. Someone identifying himself as a paramedic arrived next. He examined Cantor quickly, then he and a security guard loaded the man on a wheelchair. They took him out, and the three men left behind stared at each other.
"How hard is it to die from ulcers?" Ryan asked his wife just before midnight.
"How old is he?" she asked. Jack told her. Cathy thought about it for a moment. "It can happen, but it's fairly rare. Somebody at work?"
"My supervisor at Langley. He's been on Tagamet, but he vomited blood tonight."
"Maybe he tried going without it. That's one of the problems. You give people medications, and as soon as they start feeling better, they stop taking the meds. Even smart people," Cathy noted. "Is it that stressful over there?"
"I guess it was for him."
"Super." It was the kind of remark that should have been followed by a roll-over, but Cathy hadn't been able to do that for some time. "He'll probably be all right. You really have to work at it to be in serious trouble from ulcers nowadays. Are you sure you want to work there?"
"No. They want me, but I won't decide until you lose a little weight."
"You'd better not be that far away when I go into labor."
"I'll be there when you need me."
"Almost got 'em," Murray reported.
"The same mob who raided Action-Directe, eh? Yes, I've heard that was a nicely run mission. What happened?" Owens asked.
"The assault group was spotted seventy miles out and had to turn back. On reexamination of the photos, it may be that our friends were already gone anyway."
"Marvelous. I see our luck is holding. Where did they go, you reckon?"
Murray grunted. "I've got to make the same assumption you have, Jimmy."
"Quite." He looked out the window. The sun would be rising soon. "Well, we've cleared the DPG man and told him the story."
"How'd he take it?"
"He immediately offered his resignation, but the Commissioner and I prevailed upon him to withdraw it. We all have our little foibles," Owens said generously. "He's a very good chap at what he does. You'll be pleased to learn that his reaction was precisely the same as yours. He said we should arrange for His Highness to fall off one of his polo ponies and break his leg. Please don't quote either of us on that!"
"It's a hell of a lot easier to protect cowards, isn't