Jack Ryan 2 - Patriot Games by Tom Clancy Read Free Book Online Page A

remove the grenade-launcher assembly and decided to press on with his pistol. He had a stick grenade also, you know.” Jack didn't know about the rifle grenade, but the type of hand grenade he'd seen suddenly leaped out of his memory.
    “The antitank kind?” Ryan asked.
    “You know about that, do you?” Ashley responded.
    “I used to be a Marine, remember? Called the RKG-something, isn't it? Supposed to be able to punch a hole in a light armored vehicle or rip up a truck pretty good.” Where the hell did they get those little rascals -- and why didn't they use them . . .? You're missing something. Jack.
    “Then what?” Owens asked.
    “First thing, I got my wife and kid down on the deck. The traffic stopped pretty quick. I kept my head up to see what was happening.”
    “Why?” Taylor inquired.
    “I don't know,” Ryan said slowly. “Training, maybe. I wanted to see what the hell was going on -- call it stupid curiosity. I saw the one guy hosing down the Rolls and the other one hustling around the back, like he was trying to bag anyone who tried to jump out of the car. I saw that if I moved to my left I could get closer. I was screened by the stopped cars. All of a sudden I was within fifty feet or so. The AK gunner was screened behind the Rolls, and the pistolero had his back to me. I saw that I had a chance, and I guess I took it.”
    “Why?” It was Owens this time, very quiet.
    “Good question. I don't know, I really don't.” Ryan was silent for half a minute. “It made me mad. Everyone I've met over here so far has been pretty nice, and all of a sudden I see these two cocksuckers committing murder right the hell in front of me.”
    “Did you guess who they were?” Taylor asked.
    “Doesn't take much imagination, does it? That pissed me off, too. I guess that's it -- anger. Maybe that's what motivates people in combat,” Ryan mused. "I'll have to think about that. Anyway, like I said, I saw the chance and I took it.
    “It was easy -- I was very lucky.” Owens' eyebrows went up at that understatement. “The guy with the pistol was dumb. He should have checked his back. Instead he just kept looking at his kill zone -- very dumb. You always 'check-six.' I blindsided him.” Ryan grinned. “My coach would have been proud -- I really stuck him good. But I guess I ought to have had my pads on, 'cause the doc says I broke something up here when I hit him. He went down pretty hard. I got his gun and shot him -- you want to know why I did that, right?”
    “Yes,” Owens replied.
    “I didn't want him to get up.”
    “He was unconscious -- he didn't wake up for two hours, and had a nasty concussion when he did.”
    If I'd known he had that grenade, I wouldn't have shot him in the ass! “How was I supposed to know that?” Ryan asked reasonably. "I was about to go up against somebody with a light machine gun, and I didn't need a bad guy behind me. So I neutralized him. I could have put one through the back of his head -- at Quantico when they say 'neutralize,' they mean kill. My dad was the cop. Most of what I know about police procedures comes from watching TV, and I know most of that's wrong. All I knew was that I couldn't afford to have him come at me from behind. I can't say I'm especially proud of it, but at the time it seemed like a good idea.
    “I moved around the right-rear corner of the car and looked around. I saw the guy was using a pistol. Your man Wilson explained that to me -- that was lucky, too. I wasn't real crazy about taking an AK on with a dinky little handgun. He saw me come around. We both fired about the same time -- I just shot straighter, I guess.”
    Ryan stopped. He hadn't meant it to sound like that. Is that how it was? If you don't know, who does? Ryan had learned that in a crisis, time compresses and dilates -- seemingly at the same time. It also fools your memory, doesn't it? What else could I have done? He shook his head.
    “I don't know,” he said again. “Maybe I