Free Jack Ryan 2 - Patriot Games by Tom Clancy Page B

wish I hadn't got myself shot in the process.” His attempt at levity died on his lips. He'd said the wrong thing in the wrong way. The Prince looked at Jack very curiously for a moment, but then his eyes went flat again.
    “We would all have been killed except for you, you know -- and on behalf of my family and myself -- well, thank you. It's not enough just to say that --” His Highness went on, then halted again and struggled to find a few more words. “But it's the best I can manage. I wasn't able to manage very much yesterday, come to that,” he concluded, staring quietly at the foot of the bed.
    Aha! Ryan thought. The Prince stood and turned to leave. What do I do now?
    “Sir, why don't you sit down and let's talk this one over for a minute, okay?”
    His Highness turned back. For a moment he looked as though he would say something, but the drawn face changed again and turned away.
    “Your Highness, I really think . . .” No effect. I can't let him go out of here like this. Well, if good manners won't work -- Jack's voice became sharp.
    “Hold it!” The Prince turned with a look of great surprise. “Sit down, goddatnmit!” Ryan pointed to the chair. At least I have his attention now. I wonder if they can take a knighthood back . . .
    By this time the Prince flushed a bit. The color gave his face life that it had lacked. He wavered for a moment, then sat with reluctance and resignation.
    “Now,” Ryan said heatedly, “I think I know what's eating at you, sir. You feel bad because you didn't do a John Wayne number yesterday and handle those gunmen all by yourself, right?” The Prince didn't nod or make any other voluntary response, but a hurt expression around his eyes answered the question just as surely.
    “Aw, crap!” Ryan snorted. In the corner, Tony Wilson went pale as a ghost. Ryan didn't blame him.
    “You oughta have better sense . . . sir,” Ryan added hastily. “You've been through the service schools, right? You've qualified as a pilot, parachuted out of airplanes, and even had command of your own ship?” He got a nod. Time to step it up. “Then you've got no excuse, you damned well ought to have better sense than to think like that! You're not really that dumb, are you?”
    “What exactly do you mean?” A trace of anger, Ryan thought. Good.
    "Use your head. You've been trained to think this sort of thing out, haven't you? Let's critique the exercise. 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