Patriot games - Tom Clancy [27]
The Anti-Terrorist Branch officer cleared his throat. "Excuse me. Your Royal Highness, but Doctor Ryan is quite correct. We were discussing this, this problem yesterday, and we reached precisely the same conclusion."
Ryan looked over to the cop. "How long did you fellows kick the idea around, Tony?"
"Perhaps ten minutes," Wilson answered.
"That's six hundred seconds, Your Highness. But you had to think and act in-what? Five? Maybe three? Not much time to make a life-and-death decision is it? Mister, I'd say you did damned well. All that training you've picked up along the line worked. And if you were evaluating someone else's performance instead of your own, you'd say the same thing, just like Tony and his friends did."
"But the press-"
"Oh, screw the press!" Ryan snapped back, wondering if he'd gone too far. "What do reporters know about anything? They don't do anything, for crying out loud, they just report what other people do. You can fly an airplane, you've jumped out of them-flying scares the hell out of me; I don't even want to think about jumping out of one-and commanded a ship. Plus you ride horses and keep trying to break your neck-and now, finally, you're a father, you got a kid of your own now, right? Isn't that enough to prove to the world that you've got balls? You're not some dumb kid, sir. You're a trained pro. Start acting like one."
Jack could see his mind going over what he'd just been told. His Highness was sitting a little straighter now. The smile that began to form was an austere one, but at least it had some conviction behind it.
"I am not accustomed to being addressed so forcefully."
"So cut my head off." Ryan grinned. "You looked like you needed a little straightening out-but I had to get your attention first, didn't I? I'm not going to apologize, sir. Instead, why don't you look in that mirror over there. I bet the guy you see now looks better than the one who shaved this morning."
"You really believe what you said?"
"Of course. All you have to do is look at the situation from the outside, sir. The problem you had yesterday was tougher than any exercise I had to face at Quantico, but you gutted it out. Listen, I'll tell you a story.
"My first day at Quantico, first day of the officer's course. They line us up, and we meet our Drill Instructor, Gunnery Sergeant Willie King-humongous black guy, we called him Son of Kong. Anyway, he looks us up and down and says, 'Girls, I got some good news, and I got some bad news. The good news is, if you prove that you're good enough to get through this here course, you ain't got nothin' left to prove as long as you live.' And he waits for a couple of seconds. 'The bad news is, you gotta prove it to me!' "
"You were top in your class," the Prince said. He'd been briefed, too.
"I was third in that one. I tied for first in the Basic Officer's Course later on. Yeah, I did okay. That course was a gold-plated sonuvabitch. The only easy thing was sleeping-by the time your day was finished, falling asleep was easy enough. But, you know, Son of Kong was almost right.
"If you make it through Quantico, you know you've done something. After that there was only one more thing left for me to prove, and the Corps didn't have anything to do with that." Ryan paused for a moment. "Her name is Sally. Anyway, you and your family are alive, sir. Okay, I helped-but so did you. And if any reporter-expert says different, you still have the Tower of London, right? I remember that stuff in the press about your wife last year. Damn, if anybody'd talked that way about Cathy I'd have changed his voice for him."
"Changed his voice?" His Highness asked.
"The hard way!" Ryan laughed. "I guess that's a problem with being important-you can't shoot back. Too bad. People in that business could use some manners, and people in your business are entitled to some privacy, just like the rest of us."
"And what of your manners, Sir John?" A real smile now.
"Mea maxima culpa, my Lord Prince, you got me