Patriot Games - vastav

it."
"Where, exactly?" Ryan wanted to know.
"A security matter, I'm afraid," Ashley said. The three inquisitors shared an
amused look. Owens checked his watch and shot a look to the others.
"Well," Owens said. He switched off the tape recorder. "We do not wish to
trouble you further the day after surgery. We will probably be back to check a few
additional details. For the moment, sir, you have the thanks of all of us at the Yard
for doing our job for us."
"How long will I have Mr. Wilson here?"
"Indefinitely. The ULA are likely to be somewhat annoyed with you," Owens
said. "And it would be most embarrassing for us if they were to make an attempt on
your life and find you unprotected. We do not regard this as likely, mind, but one
must be careful."
"I can live with that," Ryan agreed. I make a hell of a target here, don't I? A thirdgrader
could kill me with a Popsicle stick.
"The press want to see you," Taylor said.
"I'm thrilled." Just what I need, Ryan thought. "Could you hold them off a bit?"
"Simple enough," Owens agreed. "Your medical condition does not permit it at
the moment. But you should get used to the idea. You are now something of a
public figure."
"Like hell!" Ryan snorted. "I like being obscure." Then you should have stayed
behind the tree, dumbass! Just what have you got yourself into?
"You can't refuse to see them indefinitely, you know," Taylor said gently.
Jack let out a long breath. "You're correct, of course. But not today. Tomorrow is
soon enough." Let the hubbub die down some first, Ryan thought stupidly.
"One cannot always stay in the shadows. Doctor Ryan," Ashley said, standing.
The others took their cue from him.
The cops and Ashley – Ryan now had him pegged as some kind of spook,
intelligence or counterintelligence – took their leave. Wilson came back in, with
Kittiwake trailing behind.
"Did they tire you out?" the nurse asked.
"I think I'll live," Ryan allowed. Kittiwake thrust a thermometer in his mouth to
make sure.
Forty minutes after the police had left, Ryan was typing happily away on his
computer-toy, reviewing notes and drafting some fresh copy. Cathy Ryan's most
frequent (and legitimate) complaint about her husband was that while he was
reading – or worse, writing – the world could end around him without his taking
notice. This was not entirely true. Jack did notice Wilson jumping to attention out