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The cop stared at Clark for another minute。 At last he shrugged and pulled a card from his clipboard。 〃Sir； you have the right to remain silent 。 。 。 〃 He read the litany off the card。 〃Do you understand these rights？〃
Still Clark didn't say anything。 The police officer was getting irritated。 He looked at the other three men in the room。 〃Gentlemen； will you testify that I read this individual his rights？〃
〃Yes； sir； we certainly will；〃 Captain Peters said。
〃If I may make a suggestion； officer；〃 Breckenridge said。 〃You might want to check this boy out with the FBI。〃
〃How e？〃
〃He talks funny；〃 the Sergeant Major explained。 〃He don't e from here。〃
〃Great two crazy ones in one day。〃
〃What do ya mean？〃 Breckenridge asked。
〃Little while ago a car got machine…gunned on 50； sounds like some kind of drug hit。 A trooper got killed by the same bunch a few minutes later。 The bad guys got away。〃 The cop leaned down to look Clark in the face。 〃You better start talkin'； sir。 The cops in this town are in a mean mood tonight。 What I'm tellin' you； man； is that we don't want to put up with some unnecessary shit。 You understand me？〃
Clark didn't understand。 In Ireland carrying a concealed weapon was a serious crime。 In America it was rather less so since so many citizens owned guns。 Had he said he was waiting for someone and carried a gun because he was afraid of street criminals； he might have gotten out on the street before identification procedures were plete。 Instead； his intransigence was only making the policeman angry and ensuring that the identification procedures would be carried out in full before he was arraigned。
Captain Peters and Sergeant Major Breckenridge exchanged a meaningful look。
〃Officer；〃 the Captain said； 〃I would most strongly remend that you check this character's ID with the FBI。 We've； uh； we had a sort of an informal warning about terrorist activity a few weeks back。 This is still your jurisdiction since he was arrested in the city； but 。 。 。 〃
〃I hear you； Cap'n；〃 the cop said。 He thought for a few seconds and concluded that there was something more here than met the eye。 〃If you gentlemen will e to the station with me； we'll find out who Mr。 Doe here really is。〃
Ryan charged through the entrance of the Shock…Trauma Center and identified himself to the reception desk； whose occupant directed him to a waiting room where； she said firmly； he would be notified as soon as there was anything to report。 The sudden change from action to inaction disoriented Jack enormously。 He stood at the entrance to the waiting room for some minutes； his mind a total blank as it struggled with the situation。 By the time Robby arrived from parking his car； he found his friend sitting on the cracked vinyl of an old sofa； mindlessly reading through a brochure whose stiff paper had bee as soft as chamois from the numberless hands of parents； wives； husbands； and friends of the patients who had passed through this building。
The brochure explained in bureaucratic prose how the Maryland Institute for Emergency Medical Services was the first and best organization of its kind； devoted exclusively to the most sophisticated emergency care for trauma victims。 Ryan knew all this。 Johns Hopkins managed the more recent pediatric unit and provided many of the staff surgeons for eye injuries。 Cathy had spent some time doing that during her residency； an intense two months that she'd been happy to leave behind。 Jack wondered if she were now being treated by a former colleague。 Would he recognize her？ Would it matter？
The Shock…Trauma Center so known to everyone but the billing department had begun as the dream of a brilliant； aggressive； and supremely arrogant heart surgeon who had bludgeoned his way through a labyrinth of bureaucratic empires to build this 21st…century emergency room。
It had blossomed into a dazzling； legendary success。 Shock…Trauma was the leading edge of emergency medical technology。 It had already pioneered many techniques for critical care； and in doing so had overthrown many historical precepts of conventional medicine which had not endeared its founder to his medical brethren。 That would have been true in any field； and Shock…Trauma's founder had not helped the process with his brutally outspoken opinions。 His greatest but unacknowledged crime； of course； was being right in nearly all details。 And while this prophet was without honor in the mainstream of his profession； its younger members were easier to convert。 Shock…Trauma attracted the best young surgical talent in the world； and only the finest of them were chosen。
But will they be good enough？ Ryan asked himself。
He lost all track of time； waiting； afraid to look at his watch； afraid to speculate on the significance of time's flight。 Alone； pletely alone in his circumscribed world； he reflected that God had given him a wife he loved and a child he treasured more than his own life； that his first duty as husband and father was to protect them from an often hostile world； that he had failed； that； because of this； their lives were now in strangers' hands。 All his knowledge； all his skills were useless now。 It was worse than impotence； and some evil agency in his mind kept repeating over and over the thoughts that made him cringe as he retreated further and further into catatonic numbness。 For hours he stared at the floor； then the wall； unable even to pray as his mind sought the solace of emptiness。
Jackson sat beside his friend； silent； in his own private world。 A naval aviator； he had seen close friends vanish from a trivial mistake or a mechanical glitch or seemingly nothing at all。 He'd felt death's cold hand brush his own shoulder less than a year before。 But this wasn't a danger to a mature man who had freely chosen a dangerous profession。 This was a young wife and an innocent child whose lives were at risk。 He couldn't joke about how 〃old Dutch〃 would luck this one out。 He knew nothing at all he could say； no encouragement he could offer other 〃than just sitting there； and though he gave no sign of it； Robby was sure that Jack knew his friend was close at hand。
After two hours Jackson quietly left the waiting room to call his wife and check discreetly at the desk。 The receptionist fumbled for the names； then identified them as： a Female； Blond； Age Thirty or so； Head； and a Female； Blond； Age Four or so； Flailed Chest。 The pilot was tempted to throttle the receptionist for her coldness； but his discipline was sufficient to allow him to turn away without a word。 Jackson rejoined Ryan a moment later； and together they stared at the wall through the passage of time。 It started to rain outside； a cold rain that perfectly matched what they both felt。
Special Agent Shaw was walking through the door of his Chevy Chase home when the phone rang。 His teen…age daughter answered it and just held it out to him。 This sort of thing was not the least unusual。
〃Shaw here。〃
〃Mr。 Shaw； this is Nick Capitano from the Annapolis office。 The city police here have in custody a man with a pistol； a knife； but no ID。 He refuses to talk at all； but earlier he did speak to a couple of Marines； and he had an accent。〃
〃That's nice； he has an accent。 What kind？〃 Shaw asked testily。
〃Maybe Irish；〃 Capitano replied。 〃He was apprehended just outside Gate Three of the U。S。 Naval Academy。 There's a Marine here who says that some teacher named Ryan works there； and he got some sort of warning from the Anti…Terrorism Office。〃
What the hell。 〃Have you ID'd the suspect yet？〃
〃No； sir。 The local police just fingerprinted him； and they faxed a copy of the prints and photo to the Bureau。 The suspect refuses to say anything。 He just isn't talking at all； sir。〃
〃Okay；〃 Shaw thought for a moment。 So much for dinner。 〃I'll be back in my office in thirty minutes。 Have them send a copy of the mug shot and the prints there。 You stay put； and have somebody find Doctor Ryan and stay with him。〃
〃Right。〃
Shaw hung up and dialed his office at the Bureau。 〃Dave； Bill。 Call London； and tell Dan Murray I want him in his office in half an hour。 We may have something