Patriot Games - vastav

"It's like being Cinderella." Caroline Muller Ryan, MD, grinned.
John Patrick Ryan, PhD, wiggled the fingers of his left hand. "I guess I'm the one
who turned into the pumpkin. I guess you're going to make the trips we planned.
Good."
"Sure you don't mind?"
"Half the reason for the vacation was to get you away from hospitals, Cathy,
remember? No sense taking all the film home unused, is it?"
"It'd be a lot more fun with you."
Jack nodded. He'd looked forward to seeing the castles on the list, too. Like many
Americans, Ryan could not have abided the English class system, but that didn't
stop him from being fascinated with its trappings. Or something like that, he
thought. His knighthood, he knew, might change that perspective if he allowed
himself to dwell on it.
"Look on the bright side, babe. You've got a guide who can tell you everything
you ever wanted to know about Lord Jones's castle on the coast of whatever. You'll
have plenty of time for it, too."
"Yeah," she said, "the police said we'd be staying over a while longer than we
planned. I'll have to talk to Professor Lewindowski about that." She shrugged.
"They'll understand."
"How do you like the new place? Better than the hotel?"
"You're going to have to see – no, you'll have to experience it." She laughed. "I
think hospitality is the national sport over here. They must teach it in the schools,
and have quarterly exams. And guess who we're having dinner with tonight?"
"I don't have to guess."
"Jack, they're so nice."
"I noticed. Looks like you're really getting the VIP treatment."
"What's the Special Air Service – he's some kind of pilot?"
"Something like that," Jack said diffidently. Cathy might feel uncomfortable
sitting next to a man who had to be carrying a gun. And was trained to use it with as
little compunction as a wolf might use his teeth. "You're not asking how I feel."
"I got hold of your chart on the way in," Cathy explained.
"And?"
"You're doing okay. Jack. I see you can move your fingers. I was worried about
that."
"How come?"
"The brachial plexus – it's a nerve junction inside your shoulder. The bullet
missed it by about an inch and a half. That's why you can move your fingers. The
way you were bleeding, I thought the brachial artery was cut, and that runs right
next to the nerves. It would have put your arm out of business for good. But" – she