Patriot Games by Tom Clancy

“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 there.”

“Still, we might not be here except for you.”

“I couldn’t just sit there and watch some people get murdered. If situations had been reversed, I’ll bet you’d have done the same thing I did.”

“You really think so?” His Highness was surprised.

“Sir, are you kidding? Anybody dumb enough to jump out of an airplane is dumb enough to try anything.”

The Prince stood and walked over to the mirror on the wall. Clearly he liked what he saw there. “Well,” he murmured to the mirror. He turned back to voice his last self-doubt.

“And if you had been in my place?”

“I’d probably just’ve wet my pants,” Ryan replied. “But you have an advantage over me, sir. You’ve thought about this problem for a few years, right? Hell, you practically grew up with it, and you’ve been through basic training — Royal Marines, too, maybe?”

“Yes, I have.”

Ryan nodded. “Okay, so you had your options figured out beforehand, didn’t you? They caught you by surprise, sure, but the training shows. You did all right. Honest. Sit back down, and maybe Tony can pour us some coffee.”

Wilson did so, though he was clearly uneasy to be close to the heir. The Prince of Wales sipped at his cup while Ryan lit up one of Wilson’s cigarettes. His Highness looked on disapprovingly.

“That’s not good for you, you know,” he pointed out.

Ryan just laughed. “Your Highness, since I arrived in this country, I nearly got run over by one of those two-story buses, I almost got my head blown off by a damned Maoist, then I nearly get myself shish-kabobed by one of your redcoats.” Ryan waved the cigarette in the air. “This is the safest damned thing I’ve done since I got here! What a vacation this’s turned out to be.”

“You do have a point,” the Prince admitted. “And quite a sense of humor, Doctor Ryan.”

“I guess the valium — or whatever they’re giving me — helps. And the name’s Jack.” He held out his hand. The Prince took it.

“I was able to meet your wife and daughter yesterday — you were unconscious at the time. I gather that your wife is an excellent physician. Your little daughter is quite wonderful.”

“Thanks. How do you like being a daddy?”

“The first time you hold your newborn child . . . ”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Sir, that’s what it’s all about.” He stopped talking abruptly.

Bingo, Ryan thought. A four-month-old baby. If they kidnap the Prince and Princess, well, no government can cave in to terrorism. The politicians and police have to have a contingency plan already set up for this, don’t they? They’d take this town apart one brick at a time, but they wouldn’t — couldn’t — negotiate anything, and that was just too bad for the grown-ups, but a little baby . . . damn, there’s a bargaining chip! What kind of people would —

“Bastards,” Ryan whispered to himself. Wilson blanched, but the Prince suspected what Jack was thinking about.

“Excuse me?”

“They weren’t trying to kill you. Hell, I bet you weren’t even the real objective . . . ” Ryan nodded slowly. He searched his mind for the data he’d seen on the ULA. There hadn’t been much — it hadn’t been his area of focus in any case — a few tidbits of shadowy intelligence reports, mixed with a lot of pure conjecture. “They didn’t want to kill you at all, I bet. And when you covered the wife and kid, you burned their plan . . . maybe, or maybe you just — yeah, maybe you just threw them a curve, and that blew their timing a little bit.”

“What do you mean?” the Prince asked.

“Goddamned medications slow your brain down,” Ryan said mainly to himself. “Have the police told you what the terrorists were up to?”

His Highness sat upright in the chair. “I can’t –”

“You don’t have to,” Ryan cut him off. “Did they tell you that what you did definitely — definitely — saved all of you?”

“No, but –”

“Tony?”

“They told me you were a very clever chap. Jack,” Wilson said. “I’m afraid I can’t comment further. Your Royal Highness, Doctor Ryan maybe correct in his assessment.”

“What assessment?” The Prince was puzzled.

Ryan explained. It only took a few minutes.

“How did you arrive at this conclusion. Jack?”

Ryan’s mind was still churning through the hypothesis. “Sir, I’m an historian. My business is figuring things out. Before that I was a stockbroker — doing essentially the same thing. It’s not all that hard when you think about it. You look for apparent inconsistencies and then you try to figure out why they’re not really inconsistent.” He concluded, “It’s all speculation on my part, but I’m willing to bet that Tony’s colleagues are pursuing it.” Wilson didn’t say anything. He cleared his throat — which was answer enough.

The Prince looked deep into his coffee cup. His face was that of a man who had recovered from fear and shame. Now he contemplated cold anger at what might have been.

“Well, they’ve had their chance, haven’t they?”

“Yes, sir. I imagine if they ever try again, it’ll be a lot harder. Right, Tony?”