Patriot games - Tom Clancy [53]
"Oh, I see how they did it." Cathy was exploring the left side of his jacket. The tailors had put snap closures on the underside so that it would not so much conceal the cast as make it look dressed. His wife removed the snaps quickly and pulled the coat off. The shirt went next.
"I am able to do this myself, you know."
"Shut up, Jack. I don't want to have to wait all night for you to undress." He next heard the sound of a long zipper.
"Can I help?"
There was laughter in the darkness. "I might want to wear this dress again. And be careful where you put that arm."
"I haven't crunched anyone yet."
"Good. Let's try to keep a perfect record." A whisper of silk. She took his hand. "Let's get you sitting down."
After he sat on the edge of the bed, the rest came easy. Cathy sat beside him. He felt her, cool and smooth at his side, a hint of perfume in the air. He reached around her shoulder, down to the soft skin of her abdomen.
It's happening right now, growing away while we sit here. "You're going to have my baby," Jack said softly. There really is a God, and there really are miracles.
Her hand came across his face. "That's right. I can't have anything to drink after tonight-but I wanted to enjoy tonight."
"You know, I really do love you."
"I know," she said. "Lie back."
* * *
6
Trials and Troubles
reliminary testimony lasted for about two hours while Ryan sat on a marble bench outside Old Bailey's number two courtroom. He tried to work on his computer, but he couldn't seem to keep his mind on it, and found himself staring around the hundred-sixty-year-old building.
Security was incredibly tight. Outside, numerous uniformed police constables stood about in plain sight, small zippered pistol cases dangling from their hands. Others, uniformed and not, stood on the buildings across Newgate Street like falcons on the watch for rabbits. Except rabbits don't carry machine guns and RPG-7 bazookas, Ryan thought. Every person who entered the building was subjected to a metal detector sensitive enough to ping on the foil inside a cigarette pack, and nearly everyone was given a pat-down search. This included Ryan, who was surprised enough at the intimacy of the search to tell the officer that he went a bit far for a first date. The grand hall was closed off to anyone not connected with the case, and less prominent trials had been switched among the building's nineteen courtrooms to accommodate Crown v Miller.
Ryan had never been in a courthouse before. He was amused by the fact that he'd never even had a speeding ticket, his life had been so dull until now. The marble floor-nearly everything in sight was marble-gave the hall the aspect of a cathedral, and the walls were decorated with aphorisms such as Cicero's THE WELFARE OF THE PEOPLE IS THE HIGHEST LAW, a phrase he found curiously-or at least potentially-expedient in what was certainly designed as a temple to the idea of law. He wondered if the members of the ULA felt the same way, and justified their activities in accordance with their view of the welfare of the people. Who doesn't? Jack asked himself. What tyrant ever failed to justify his crimes? Around him were a half-dozen other witnesses. Jack didn't talk with them. His instructions were quite specific: even the appearance of conversation might give cause to the defense attorneys to speculate that witnesses had coached one another. The prosecution team had bent every effort to make their case a textbook example of correct legal procedure.
The case was being handled on a contradictory basis. The ambush had taken place barely four weeks ago, and the trial was already under way-an unusually speedy process even by British standards. Security was airtight. Admittance to the public gallery (visitors entered from another part of the building) was being strictly controlled. But at the same time, the trial was being handled strictly as a criminal matter. The name "Ulster Liberation Army" had not been mentioned. The prosecutor had not once used the