Commander-In-Chief by Tom Clancy, Mark Greaney Read Free Book Online

until Jack Ryan, Jr., said, “And, apparently, I failed.” Still nothing. “Okay, we can do the call tomorrow.”
    “Let’s, but give me the five-second version,” Clark said.
    “I’ve identified a lawyer in Luxembourg who is definitely involved in this scheme. When I’m done here, I’d like to go to Luxembourg City to look into him a little more closely.”
    “Do you need me to send you some help?”
    The answer came quickly. “No, I’m good. This is straight analytical work, nothing dicey. Ysabel and I have it covered here in Rome, and I don’t think I’ll need any more resources in Luxembourg than I do here. I will need another week or so here to finish the job before moving on.”
    “Right,” Clark said. John Clark was no fool, he knew what was going on. Jack’s girlfriend was an Iranian national named Ysabel Kashani. She was assisting him there in Rome, and Rome was closer to Tehran than Luxembourg City.
    It was also several orders of magnitude more romantic.
    Clark almost admonished his young operative. He considered telling him to get his head in the game, but he stopped himself. He’d go easy on Ryan, for a day or two. This operation was important, but this wasn’t a matter of life or death.
    The kid could enjoy himself a little bit more. It wouldn’t hurt anybody.
    “Okay, kid. I’ll get a conference call set up for this time tomorrow and you can fill us in on what you know.” His voice turned louder and more commanding. “And don’t get complacent over there. I want you practicing your proper OPSEC twenty-four/seven. No excuses, no compromises. Got it?”
    “Roger that. Hey, you sure you’re okay, John?”
    “I’m outstanding, kid. Talk to you tomorrow.”
    Clark hung up the phone, gave one last look to the hillside full of identical white stones, then he bent his head into the rain and climbed into his car.
    Jack was right; Clark was late for work.

5
    J ack Ryan, Jr., slipped his phone back into his blazer and downed the last few drops of his double espresso. He checked his watch, then picked up the newspaper folded in front of him and glanced at it absentmindedly.
    Jack was in his early thirties, just over six feet tall, with short dark hair and a trimmed beard. He wore sensible eyeglasses that, along with his tailored blue blazer, made him look older than his years, but his jeans and easy smile lessened any sense of stuffiness about him. He weighed two hundred five pounds, much of it muscle, but his clothing choices went a long way toward hiding his athletic physique.
    He dropped the paper down on the table and looked across the nearly empty café, his eyes searching intently.
    He just realized his date had been in the bathroom for a long time. He felt stress growing inside, a sudden feeling of foreboding.
    Ysabel reappeared from the women’s restroom as if on cue, looking boyish but beautiful in jeans and a fitted leather jacket, her black hair up in a tight bun.
    Jack stifled a sigh of relief, chastised himself for freaking out because a girl just spent a few minutes in the little girls’ room, and reminded himself they weren’t in the middle of a damn war zone.
    Not anymore.
    Jack stood from the table and pulled her chair out for her, and he called for the check as they both sat back down.
    Ysabel said, “Sorry. I know you think I was just preening at the mirror for the last ten minutes.”
    “Were you gone long? I hadn’t noticed.”
    She smiled. A look that said she didn’t believe him. Shaking her head, she said, “I was touching up my makeup and another woman at the mirror knocked my purse on the floor. Everything fell out.” She giggled. “A girl keeps a lot in her purse, you know.”
    “I’ve lifted your purse. Did she at least help you pick everything up?”
    “Yes. She was very apologetic and helpful. Just a klutz. What about you? Is everything all right? I thought you said you’d be on the phone awhile.”
    “Everything is fine. My boss is out of the