Patriot Games

Examine what the tactical situation was yesterday. You were trapped in a stopped car with two or three bad guys outside holding automatic weapons. The car is armor-plated, but you're stuck. What can you do? The way I see it, you had three choices:

'One. You can just freeze, just sit there and wet your pants. Hell, that's what most normal people would do, caught by surprise like that. That's probably the normal reaction. But you didn't do that.

'Two. You can try to get out of the car and do something, right?'

'Yes, I should have.'

'Wrong!' Ryan shook his head emphatically. 'Sorry, sir, but that's not a real good idea. The guy I tackled was waiting for you to do just that. That guy could have put a nine-millimeter slug in your head before you had both feet on the pavement. You look like you're in pretty good shape. You probably move pretty good—but ain't nobody yet been able to outrun a bullet, sir! That choice might have gotten you killed, and the rest of your family along with you.

'Three. Your last choice, you tough it out and pray the cavalry gets there in time. You know you're close to home. You know there's cops and troops around. So you know that time is on your side if you can survive for a couple of minutes. In the meantime you try to protect your family as best you can. You get them down on the floor of the car and get overtop of them so the only way the terrorists can get them is to go through you first. And that, my friend, is what you did.' Ryan paused for a moment to let him absorb this.

'You did exactly the right thing, dammit!' Ryan leaned forward until his shoulder pulled him back with a gasp. It wasn't all that much of a pain medication. 'Jesus, this hurts. Look, sir, you were stuck out in the open—with a lousy set of alternatives. But you used your head and took the best one you had. From where I sit, you could not have done any better than you did. So there is nothing, repeat nothing, for you to feel bad about. And if you don't believe me, ask Wilson. He's a cop.' The Prince turned his head.

The Anti-Terrorist Branch officer cleared his throat. 'Excuse me, Your Royal Highness, but Doctor Ryan is quite correct. We were discussing this, this problem yesterday, and we reached precisely the same conclusion.'

Ryan looked over to the cop. 'How long did you fellows kick the idea around, Tony?'

'Perhaps ten minutes,' Wilson answered.

'That's six hundred seconds, Your Highness. But you had to think and act in—what? Five? Maybe three? Not much time to make a life-and-death decision is it? Mister, I'd say you did damned well. All that training you've picked up along the line worked. And if you were evaluating someone else's performance instead of your own, you'd say the same thing, just like Tony and his friends did.'

'But the press—'

'Oh, screw the press!' Ryan snapped back, wondering if he'd gone too far. 'What do reporters know about anything? They don't do anything, for crying out loud, they just report what other people do. You can fly an airplane, you've jumped out of them—flying scares the hell out of me; I don't even want to think about jumping out of one—and commanded a ship. Plus you ride horses and keep trying to break your neck—and now, finally, you're a father, you got a kid of your own now, right? Isn't that enough to prove to the world that you've got balls? You're not some dumb kid, sir. You're a trained pro. Start acting like one.'

Jack could see his mind going over what he'd just been told. His Highness was sitting a little straighter now. The smile that began to form was an austere one, but at least it had some conviction behind it.

'I am not accustomed to being addressed so forcefully.'

'So cut my head off.' Ryan grinned. 'You looked like you needed a little straightening out—but I had to get your attention first, didn't I? I'm not going to apologize, sir. Instead, why don't you look in that mirror over there. I bet the guy you see now looks better than the one who shaved this morning.'

'You really believe what you said?'

'Of course. All you have to do is look at the situation from the outside, sir. The problem you had yesterday was tougher than any exercise I had to face at Quantico, but you gutted it out. Listen, I'll tell you a story.

'My first day at Quantico, first day of the officer's course. They line us up, and we meet our Drill Instructor, Gunnery Sergeant Willie King—humongous black guy, we called him Son of Kong. Anyway, he looks us up and down and says, 'Girls, I got some good news, and I got some bad news. The good news is, if you prove that you're good enough to get through this here course, you ain't got nothin' left to prove as long as you live. And he waits for a couple of seconds. 'The bad news is, you gotta prove it to me!»

'You were top in your class,' the Prince said. He'd been briefed, too.

'I was third in that one. I tied for first in the Basic Officer's Course later on. Yeah, I did okay. That course was a gold-plated sonuvabitch. The only easy thing was sleeping—by the time your day was finished, falling asleep was easy enough. But, you know, Son of Kong was almost right.

'If you make it through Quantico, you know you've done something. After that there was only one more thing left for me to prove, and the Corps didn't have anything to do with that.' Ryan paused for a moment. 'Her name is Sally. Anyway, you and your family are alive, sir. Okay, I helped—but so did you. And if any reporter-expert says different, you still have the Tower of London, right? I remember that stuff in the press about your wife last year. Damn, if anybody'd talked that way about Cathy I'd have changed his voice for him.'

'Changed his voice?' His Highness asked.

'The hard way!' Ryan laughed. 'I guess that's a problem with being important—you can't shoot back. Too bad. People in that business could use some manners, and people in your business are entitled to some privacy, just like the rest of us.'

'And what of your manners, Sir John?' A real smile now.

'Mea maxima culpa, my Lord Prince, you got me there.'

'Still, we might not be here except for you.'

'I couldn't just sit there and watch some people get murdered. If situations had been reversed, I'll bet you'd have done the same thing I did.'

'You really think so?' His Highness was surprised.

'Sir, are you kidding? Anybody dumb enough to jump out of an airplane is dumb enough to try anything.'

The Prince stood and walked over to the mirror on the wall. Clearly he liked what he saw there. 'Well,' he murmured to the mirror. He turned back to voice his last self-doubt.

'And if you had been in my place?'

'I'd probably just've wet my pants,' Ryan replied. 'But you have an advantage over me, sir. You've thought about this problem for a few years, right? Hell, you practically grew up with it, and you've been through basic training—Royal Marines, too, maybe?'

'Yes, I have.'

Ryan nodded. 'Okay, so you had your options figured out beforehand, didn't you? They caught you by surprise, sure, but the training shows. You did all right. Honest. Sit back down, and maybe Tony can pour us some coffee.'

Wilson did so, though he was clearly uneasy to be close to the heir. The Prince of Wales sipped at his cup while Ryan lit up one of Wilson's cigarettes. His Highness looked on disapprovingly.

'That's not good for you, you know,' he pointed out.

Ryan just laughed. 'Your Highness, since I arrived in this country, I nearly got run over by one of those two- story buses, I almost got my head blown off by a damned Maoist, then I nearly get myself shish-kabobed by one of your redcoats.' Ryan waved the cigarette in the air. 'This is the safest damned thing I've done since I got here! What a vacation this's turned out to be.'

'You do have a point,' the Prince admitted. 'And quite a sense of humor, Doctor Ryan.'

'I guess the valium—or whatever they're giving me—helps. And the name's Jack.' He held out his hand. The Prince took it.

'I was able to meet your wife and daughter yesterday—you were unconscious at the time. I gather that your wife is an excellent physician. Your little daughter is quite wonderful.'

'Thanks. How do you like being a daddy?'

'The first time you hold your newborn child…'

'Yeah,' Jack said. 'Sir, that's what it's all about.' He stopped talking abruptly.