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

a representative of the Home Office, and he looked a great deal smoother
than either of the others.
"You're quite certain you're up to this?" Taylor asked.
Ryan shrugged. "No sense waiting."
Owens took a cassette tape recorder from his portfolio and set it on
the bedstand. He plugged in two microphones, one facing Ryan, the other
toward the officers. He punched the record button and announced the date,
time, and place.
"Doctor Ryan," Owens asked formally, "do you know that this interview
is being recorded?"
"Yes, sir."
"And do you have any objection to this?"
"No, sir. May I ask a question?"
"Certainly," Owens answered.
"Am I being charged with anything? If so, I would like to contact my
embassy and have an attor --" Ryan was more than a little uneasy to be the
focus of so much high-level police attention, but was cut off by the
chuckles of Mr. Ashley. He noted that the other police officers deferred
to him for the answer.
"Doctor Ryan, you may just have things the wrong way 'round. For the
record, sir, we have no intention whatever of charging you with anything.
Were we to do so, I dare say we'd be looking for new employment by day's
end."
Ryan nodded, not showing his relief. He'd not yet been sure of this,
sure only that the law doesn't have to make sense. Owens began reading his
questions from a yellow pad.
"Can you give us your name and address, please?"
"John Patrick Ryan. Our mailing address is Annapolis, Maryland. Our
home is at Peregrine Cliff, about ten miles south of Annapolis on the
Chesapeake Bay."
"And your occupation?" Owens checked off something on his pad.
"I guess you could say I have a couple of jobs. I'm an instructor in
history at the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis. I lecture occasionally at
the Naval War College in Newport, and from time to time I do a little
consulting work on the side."
"That's all?" Ashley inquired with a friendly smile -- or was it
friendly? Ryan asked himself. Jack wondered just how much they'd managed
to find out about him in the past -- what? fifteen hours or so -- and
exactly what Ashley was hinting at. You're no cop, Ryan thought. What
exactly are you? Regardless, he had to stick to his cover story, that he
was a part-time consultant to the Mitre Corporation.
"And the purpose of your visit to this country?" Owens went on.
"Combination vacation and research trip. I'm gathering data for a new
book, and Cathy needed some time off. Sally is still a preschooler, so we
decided to head over now and miss the tourist season." Ryan took a
cigarette from the pack Wilson had left behind. Ashley lit it from a gold
lighter. "In my coat -- wherever that is -- you'll find letters of
introduction to your Admiralty and the Royal Naval College at Dartmouth."
"We have the letters," Owens replied. "Quite illegible. I'm afraid,
and I fear your suit is a total loss also. What the blood did not ruin,