Jack Ryan 7 - The Sum of All Fears Read Online Free PDF

a rumpled shirt and a jacket that needed pressing, not the formal priest's uniform that he saved for important meetings and had been hand-tailored by one of the nicer shops on
    
    
     Wisconsin Avenue
    
    
    . But the white Roman collar was stiff and bright, and Jack had the sudden thought that despite all his years of Catholic education he didn't know what the things were made of. Starched cotton? Celluloid like the detachable collars of his grandfather's age? In either case, its evident rigidity must have been a reminder to its wearer of his place in this world, and the next.
    “Hello, Jack!”
    “Hi, Father. This is Charles Alden, Father Tim Riley.” Handshakes were exchanged, and places at the table selected. A waiter came in and took drink orders, closing the door as he left.
    “How's the new job, Jack?” Riley asked.
    The horizons keep broadening," Ryan admitted. He left it at that. The priest would already know the problems Jack was having at
    
    
     Langley
    
    
    .
    “We've had this idea about the
    
     Middle East
    
    , and Jack suggested that you'd be a good man to discuss it with,” Alden said, getting everyone back to business. He had to stop when the waiter returned with drinks and menus. His discourse on the idea took several minutes.
    “That's interesting,” Riley said, when it was all on the table.
    “What's your read on the concept?” the National Security Advisor wanted to know.
    “Interesting . . .” The priest was quiet for a moment.
    “Will the Pope . . . ?” Ryan stopped Alden with a wave of the hand. Riley was not a man to be hurried when he was thinking. He was, after all, an historian, and they didn't have the urgency of medical doctors.
    “It certainly is elegant,” Riley observed after thirty seconds. “The Greeks will be a major problem, though.”
    “The Greeks? How so?” Ryan asked in surprise.
    “The really contentious people right now are the Greek Orthodox. We and they are at each other's throats half the time over the most trivial administrative issues. You know, the rabbis and the imams are actually more cordial at the moment than the Christian priests are. That's the funny thing about religious people, it's hard to predict how they'll react. Anyway, the problems between the Greeks and Romans are mainly administrative—who gets custody over which site, that sort of thing. There was a big go-round over
    
    
     Bethlehem
    
    
     last year, who got to do the
    
     midnight
    
     mass in the Church of the Nativity. It is awfully disappointing, isn't it?”
    “You're saying it won't work because two Catholic churches can't—”
    “I said there could be a problem, Dr. Alden. I did not say that it wouldn't work.” Riley lapsed back into silence for a moment. "You'll have to adjust the troika . . . but given the nature of the operation, I think we can get the right kind of cooperation. Co-opting the Greek Orthodox is something you'll have to do in any case. They and the Muslims get along very well, you know.
    “How so?” Alden asked.
    “Back when Mohammed was chased out of
    
    
     Medina
    
    
     by the pre-Muslim pagans, he was granted asylum at the Monastery of St. Catherine in the Sinai—it's a Greek Orthodox shrine. They took care of him when he needed a friend. Mohammed was an honorable man; that monastery has enjoyed the protection of the Muslims ever since. Over a thousand years, and that place has never been troubled despite all the nasty things that have happened in the area. There is much to admire about Islam, you know. We in the West often overlook that because of the crazies who call themselves Muslims—as though we don't have the same problem in Christianity. There is much nobility there, and they have a tradition of scholarship that commands respect. Except that nobody over here knows much about it.” Riley concluded.
    “Any other conceptual problems?” Jack asked.
    Father Tim laughed: “The Council of Vienna! How did you forget that, Jack?”
    “What?”