Patriot Games - vastav

"Too bloody right. I'm serious," Wilson went on, his voice very even. Only his
choice of words betrayed how deeply the affair disturbed him. "Except for you, they
would all three be quite dead, and that makes you a bloody hero. Doctor Ryan."
Wilson sipped his tea neatly and fished out a cigarette.
Ryan set his cup down. "You mean you let them drive around here without a
police or secret service – whatever you call it – without an escort?"
"Supposedly it was an unscheduled trip. Security arrangements for the Royals are
not my department in any case. I would speculate, however, that those whose
department it is will be rethinking a few things," Wilson commented.
"They weren't hurt?"
"No, but their driver was killed. So was their security escort from DPG –
Diplomatic Protection Group – Charlie Winston. I knew Charlie. He had a wife,
you know, and four children, all grown."
Ryan observed that the Rolls should have had bulletproof glass.
Wilson grunted. "It did have bulletproof glass. Actually plastic, a complex
polycarbonate material. Unfortunately, no one seems to have read what it said on
the box. The guarantee is only for a year. Turns out that sunlight breaks the material
down somehow or other. The windshield was no more use than ordinary safety
glass. Our friend McCrory put thirty rounds into it, and it quite simply shattered,
killing the driver first. The interior partition, thank God, had not been exposed to
sunlight, and remained intact. The last thing Charlie did was push the button to put
it up. That probably saved them, too – didn't do Charlie much good, though. He had
enough time to draw his automatic, but we don't think he was able to get a shot off."
Ryan thought back. There had been blood in the back of the Rolls – not just
blood. The driver's head had been blown apart, and his brains had scattered into the
passenger compartment. Jack winced thinking about it. The escort had probably
leaned over to push the button before defending himself . . . Well, Jack thought,
that's what they pay them for. What a hell of a way to earn a living.
"It was fortunate that you intervened when you did. They both had hand grenades,
you know."
"Yeah, I saw one." Ryan sipped away the last of his tea. "What the hell was I
thinking about?" You weren't thinking at all, Jack. That's what you were thinking
about.
Kittiwake saw Ryan go pale. "You feel quite all right?" she asked.
"I guess." Ryan grunted in wonderment. "Dumb as I was, I must feel pretty good
– I ought to be dead."
"Well, that most emphatically will not happen here." She patted his hand. "Please
ring me if you need anything." Another beaming smile and she left.
Ryan was still shaking his head. "The other one got away?"