Jack Ryan 2 - Patriot Games Read Online Free PDF

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?”
    Wilson nodded. “We found the car near a tube station a few blocks away. It was stolen, of course. No real problem for him to get clean away. Disappear into the underground. Go to Heathrow, perhaps, and catch a plane to the continent -- Brussels, say -- then a plane to Ulster or the Republic, and a car the rest of the way home. That's one route; there are others, and it's impossible to cover them all. He was drinking beer last night, watching the news coverage on television in his favorite pub, most likely. Did you get a look at him?”
    “No, just a shape. I didn't even think to get the tag number -- dumb. Right after that the redcoat came running up to me.” Ryan winced again. “Christ, I thought he'd put that pigsticker right through me. For a second there I could see it all -- I do something right, then get wasted by a good guy.”
    Wilson laughed. “You don't know how lucky you were. The current guard force is from the Welsh Guards.”
    “So?”
    “His Royal Highness's own regiment, as it were. He's their colonel-in-chief. There you were with a pistol -- how would you expect him to react?” Wilson stubbed out his cigarette. "Another piece of good luck, your wife and daughter came running up to you, and the soldier decides to wait a bit, just long enough for things to sort themselves out. Then our chap catches up with him and tells him to stand easy. And a hundred more of my chaps come swooping in.
    “I hope you can appreciate this, Doctor. Here we were with three men dead, two others wounded, a Prince and Princess looking as though they'd been shot -- your wife examined them on the scene, by the way, and pronounced them fit just before the ambulance arrived -- a baby, a hundred witnesses each with his own version of what had just taken