Patriot Games - vastav

pretty well. We're in all the professions, business, and politics, but your prototypical
Irish-American is still a basic police officer or firefighter. The cavalry that won the
West was a third Irish, and there are still plenty of us in uniform – especially the
Marine Corps, as a matter of fact. Half of the local FBI office lived in my old
neighborhood. They had names like Tully, Sullivan, O'Connor, and Murphy. My
dad was a police officer for half his life, and the priests and nuns who educated me
were mostly Irish, probably.
"Do you see what I mean, Your Majesty? In America we are the forces of order,
the glue that holds society together – so what happens?
"Today, the most famous Irishmen in the world are the maniacs who leave bombs
in parked cars, or assassins who kill people to make some sort of political point. I
don't like that, and I know my dad wouldn't tike it. He spent his whole working life
taking animals like that off the street and putting them in cages where they belong.
We've worked pretty hard to get where we are – too hard to be happy about being
thought of as the relatives of terrorists." Jack smiled. "I guess I understand how
Italians feel about the Mafia. Anyway, I can't say that all this stuff paraded through
my head yesterday, but I did kind of figure what was going on. I couldn't just sit
there like a dummy and let murder be committed before my eyes and not do
something. So I saw my chance and I took it."
The Queen nodded thoughtfully. She regarded Ryan with a warm, friendly smile
for a few moments and turned to look at her husband. The two communicated
without words. They'd been married long enough for that, Ryan thought. When she
turned back, he could see that a decision had been reached.
"So, then. How shall we reward you?"
"Reward, ma'am?" Ryan shook his head. "Thank you very much, but it's not
necessary. I'm glad I was able to help. That's enough."
"No, Doctor Ryan, it is not enough. One of the nicer things about being Queen is
that one is permitted to recognize meritorious conduct, then to reward it properly.
The Crown cannot appear to be ungrateful." Her eyes sparkled with some private
joke. Ryan found himself captivated by the woman's humanity. He'd read that some
people found her to be less than intelligent. He already knew they were far off the
mark. There was an active brain behind those eyes, and an active wit as well.
"Accordingly, it has been decided that you shall be invested as a Knight
Commander of the Victorian Order."
"What – er, I beg your pardon, ma'am?" Ryan blinked a few times as his brain
tried to catch up with his ears.
"The Victorian Order is a recent development intended to reward those persons
who have rendered personal service to the Crown. Certainly you qualify. This is the
first case in many years that an heir to the throne has been saved from almost