by Marc Cameron
The man slowed and turned around to trot back, looking winded, but not nearly as winded as he’d sounded earlier.
“You okay?” he said. “You don’t look so good.”
Meyer found it difficult to open his mouth, like his jaw was locked. He fell sideways, smashing into the sand, paralyzed.
The old fellow squatted down beside him.
Meyer wanted to asked him if they’d met, but no words would come out.
The old man gave a slow shake of his head. “Relax, Tim,” he said. “That was a shot of succinylcholine I gave you. Quite a bit, actually, because there was no way I was going to hit a vein on the run like that. It works a little slower in the muscle. Metabolizes quickly. Won’t be any trace of it by the time they get you on a slab. I’d explain it all to you, but there’s no need. I’m sure you already know why I’m here.”
Meyer managed a small groan. Other than that, he couldn’t even close his eyes. It was painless, but absolutely terrifying.
“Anyway,” the old man said, giving him a friendly little pat on the shoulder before he stood up and walked away.
* * *
—
Jack Ryan, Jr., wanted to take the elevator, but Lisanne insisted on the stairs. She’d lost an arm, she reminded him, not her leg—and even then she’d have wanted to take the stairs as well, thank you very much.
Ryan could hear the chatter up above. The smell of lamb in the shepherd’s pie made his mouth water.
He smiled at Lisanne as they turned at the landing to start up again, taking it slow. It had been only a couple months. She was pale, sweating a little on that beautiful upper lip of hers. By all rights, she should have been dead. And she would have been, had she not had her spleen removed after a horseback-riding accident as a teenager. With no spleen to catch them, the bullets had proceeded through her body without clipping any major arteries but for the one in her arm. Adara had saved her life there, no question about it.
“You nervous?” Ryan said.
Lisanne looked at him with a mock scoff. “Why would I be nervous? Because this is our first date?”
“Not that,” Ryan said as they topped the stairs and made the corner into the West Sitting Hall.
Cathy Ryan met them at the door to the private dining room, across from the master residence. She was dressed in jeans and a USMC sweatshirt, a dish towel thrown cavalierly over her shoulder. Ryan’s old man came out behind her, carrying a copy of The Wall Street Journal.
“Mom, Dad,” Ryan said. “I want to introduce you to Lisanne Robertson. A good friend from work.”
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
A little more than thirty years ago, Tom Clancy was a Maryland insurance broker with a passion for naval history. Years before, he had been an English major at Baltimore's Loyola College and had always dreamed of writing a novel. His first effort, The Hunt for Red October, sold briskly as a result of rave reviews, then catapulted onto the New York Times bestseller list after President Reagan pronounced it "the perfect yarn." From that day forward, Clancy established himself as an undisputed master at blending exceptional realism and authenticity, intricate plotting, and razor-sharp suspense. He passed away in October 2013.
A native of Texas, Marc Cameron spent almost thirty years in law enforcement. He served as a uniformed police officer, mounted (horse patrol) officer, SWAT officer, and a U.S. Marshal. Cameron is conversant in Japanese, and travels extensively researching his New York Times-bestselling Jericho Quinn novels. Cameron's books have been nominated for both the Barry Award and the Thriller Award.
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