"Clancy, Tom - Jack Ryan 02 - Patriot Games" - читать интересную книгу автора (Clancy Tom)

before stopping here, just inside the skin. Bloody powerful thing, the
nine millimeter. As you can see, the damage was quite extensive. We had a
jolly time finding all these fragments and jigsawing them back into proper
place, but -- we were able to accomplish this." Scott held a second film
up next to the first. Cathy was quiet for several seconds, her head
swiveling back and forth.
"That is nice work, Doctor!"
Sir Charles' smile broadened a notch. "From a Johns Hopkins surgeon,
yes, I think I'll accept that. Both these pins are permanent, this screw
also, I'm afraid, but the rest should heal rather nicely. As you can see,
all the large fragments are back where they belong, and we have every
reason to expect a full recovery."
"How much impairment?" A detached question. Cathy could be maddeningly
unemotional about her work.
"We're not sure yet," Scott said slowly. "Probably a little, but it
should not be overly severe. We can't guarantee a complete restoration of
function -- the damage was far too extensive for that."
"You mind telling me something?" Ryan tried to sound angry, but it
hadn't come out right.
"What I mean, Mr. Ryan, is that you'll probably have some permanent
loss of use of your arm -- precisely how much we cannot determine as yet
-- and from now on you'll have a permanent barometer. Henceforth, whenever
the weather is about to change for the worse, you'll know it before anyone
else."
"How long in this cast?" Cathy wanted to know.
"At least a month." The surgeon seemed apologetic. "It is awkward, I
know, but the shoulder must be totally immobilized for at least that long.
After that we'll have to reevaluate the injury and we can probably revert
to a normal cast for another . . . oh, another month or so, I expect. I
presume he heals well, no allergies. Looks to be in good health, decent
physical shape."
"Jack's in good physical shape, except for a few loose marbles in his
head," Cathy nodded, an edge on her weary voice. "He jogs. No allergies
except ragweed, and he heals rapidly."
"Yeah," Ryan confirmed. "Her teethmarks go away in under a week,
usually." He thought this uproariously funny, but no one laughed.
"Good," Sir Charles said. "So, Doctor, you can see that your husband
is in good hands. I will leave the two of you together for five minutes.
After that, I wish that he should get some rest, and you look as though
you could use some also." The surgeon moved off with Bette Davis in his
wake.
Cathy moved closer to him, changing yet again from cool professional
to concerned wife. Ryan told himself for perhaps the millionth time how
lucky he was to have this girl. Caroline Ryan had a small, round face,
short butter-blond hair, and the world's prettiest blue eyes. Behind those
eyes was a person with intelligence at least the equal of his own, someone
he loved as much as a man could. He would never understand how he'd won
her. Ryan was painfully aware that on his best day his own undistinguished
features, a heavy beard and a lantern jaw, made him look like a
dark-haired Dudley Do-Right of the Mounties. She played pussycat to his