The Hunt for Red October - Tom Clancy [26]
"Opinion," Davenport observed.
"That's what I'm paid for."
"Okay, Jack, what do you think it is?" Greer asked.
"Beats me, sir. I'm no engineer."
Admiral Greer looked his guests over for a few seconds. He smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Gentlemen, we have what? Ninety years of naval experience in this room, plus this young amateur." He gestured at Ryan. "Okay, Jack, you've set us up for something. Why did you bring this over personally?"
"I want to show these to somebody."
"Who?" Greer's head cocked suspiciously to one side.
"Skip Tyler. Any of you fellows know him?"
"I do," Casimir nodded. "He was a year behind me at Annapolis. Didn't he get hurt or something?"
"Yeah," Ryan said. "Lost his leg in an auto accident four years ago. He was up for command of the Los Angeles and a drunk driver clipped him. Now he teaches engineering at the Academy and does a lot of consulting work with Sea Systems Command—technical analysis, looking at their ship designs. He has a doctorate in engineering from MIT, and he knows how to think unconventionally."
"How about his security clearance?" Greer asked.
"Top secret or better, sir, because of his Crystal City work."
"Objections, Charlie?"
Davenport frowned. Tyler was not part of the intelligence community. "Is this the guy who did the evaluation of the new Kirov?"
Yes, sir, now that I think about it," Casimir said. "Him and Saunders over at Sea Systems."
"That was a nice piece of work. It's okay with me."
"When do you want to see him?" Greer asked Ryan.
"Today, if it's all right with you, sir. I have to run over to Annapolis anyway, to get something from the house, and—well, do some quick Christmas shopping."
"Oh? A few dolls?" Davenport asked.
Ryan turned to look the admiral in the eye. "Yes, sir, as a matter of fact. My little girl wants a Skiing Barbie doll and some Jordache doll outfits. Didn't you ever play Santa, Admiral?"
Davenport saw that Ryan wasn't going to back off anymore. He wasn't a subordinate to be browbeaten. Ryan could always walk away. He tried a new tack. "Did they tell you over there that October sailed last Friday?"
"Oh?" They hadn't. Ryan was caught off guard. "I thought she wasn't scheduled to sail until this Friday."
"So did we. Her skipper is Marko Ramius. You heard about him?"
"Only secondhand stuff. The Brits say he's pretty good."
"Better than that," Greer noted. "He's about the best sub driver they have, a real charger. We had a considerable file on him when I was at DIA. Who's bird-doggin' him for you, Charlie?"
" Bremerton was assigned to it. She was out of position doing some ELINT work when Ramius sailed, but she was ordered over. Her skipper's Bud Wilson. Remember his dad?"
Greer laughed out loud. "Red Wilson? Now there was one spirited submarine driver! His boy any good?"
"So they say. Ramius is about the best the Soviets have, but Wilson's got a 688 boat. By the end of the week, we'll be able to start a new book on Red October." Davenport stood. "We gotta head back, James." Casimir hurried to get the coats. "I can keep these?"
"I suppose, Charlie. Just don't go hanging them on the wall, even to throw darts at. And I guess you want to get moving, too, Jack?"
"Yes, sir."
Greer lifted his phone. " Nancy, Dr. Ryan will need a car and a driver in fifteen minutes. Right." He set the receiver down and waited for Davenport to leave. "No sense getting you killed out there in the snow. Besides, you'd probably drive on the wrong side of the road after a year in England . Skiing Barbie, Jack?"
"You had all boys, didn't you, sir? Girls are different." Ryan grinned. "You've never met my little Sally."
"Daddy's girl?"
"Yep. God help whoever marries her. Can I leave these photographs with Tyler?"
"I hope