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

Ryan nodded agreement, briefly dizzy from the smoke. How'd they know
to check through the Corps . . . oh, my Marine Corps Association card . .
.
"In any event we have things pretty well sorted out. Your government
are sending us everything we need -- probably here by now, actually."
Wilson checked his watch.
"My family's all right?"
Wilson smiled in rather an odd way. "They are being very well looked
after. Doctor Ryan. You have my word on that."
"The name's Jack."
"Fine. I'm known to my friends as Tony." They finally got around to
shaking hands. "And as I said, you're a bloody hero. Care to see what the
press have to say?" He handed Ryan a Daily Mirror and a Times.
"Dear God!"
The tabloid Mirror's front page was almost entirely a color photograph
of himself, sitting unconscious against the Rolls. His chest was a scarlet
mass. ATTEMPT ON HRH -- MARINE TO THE RESCUE

A bold attempt to assassinate Their Royal Highnesses the Prince and
Princess of Wales within sight of Buckingham Palace was thwarted today by
the courage of an American tourist.
John Patrick Ryan, an historian and formerly a lieutenant in the
United States Marines, dashed barehanded into a pitched battle on The Mall
as over a hundred Londoners watched in shocked disbelief. Ryan, 31, of
Annapolis, Maryland, successfully disabled one gunman and, taking his
weapon, shot another dead. Ryan himself was seriously wounded in the
exchange. He was taken by ambulance to St. Thomas's Hospital, where
emergency surgery was successfully performed by Sir Charles Scott.
A third terrorist is reported to have escaped the scene, by running
east on The Mall, then turning north on Marlborough Road.
Senior police officials were unanimous in their opinion that, but for
Ryan's courageous intervention. Their Highnesses would certainly have been
slain.

Ryan turned the page to see another color photograph of himself in
happier circumstances. It was his graduation photo from Quantico, and he
had to smile at himself, resplendent, then, in blue high-necked blouse,
two shiny gold bars, and the Mamaluke sword. It was one of the few decent
photographs ever taken of him.
"Where did they get this?"
"Oh, your Marine chaps were most helpful. In fact, one of your Marine
ships -- helicopter carrier, or something like that -- is at Portsmouth
right now. I understand that your former colleagues are getting all the
free beer they can swill."
Ryan laughed at that. Next he picked up the Times, whose headline was
marginally less lurid.

The Prince and Princess of Wales escaped certain death this afternoon.
Three, possibly four terrorists armed with hand grenades and Kalashnikov
assault rifles lay in wait for their Rolls-Royce; only to have their