Jack Ryan 2 - Patriot Games Read Online Free

should heal rather nicely. As you can see, all the large fragments are back where they belong, and we have every reason to expect a full recovery.”
    “How much impairment?” A detached question. Cathy could be maddeningly unemotional about her work.
    “We're not sure yet,” Scott said slowly. “Probably a little, but it should not be overly severe. We can't guarantee a complete restoration of function -- the damage was far too extensive for that.”
    “You mind telling me something?” Ryan tried to sound angry, but it hadn't come out right.
    “What I mean, Mr. Ryan, is that you'll probably have some permanent loss of use of your arm -- precisely how much we cannot determine as yet -- and from now on you'll have a permanent barometer. Henceforth, whenever the weather is about to change for the worse, you'll know it before anyone else.”
    “How long in this cast?” Cathy wanted to know.
    “At least a month.” The surgeon seemed apologetic. “It is awkward, I know, but the shoulder must be totally immobilized for at least that long. After that we'll have to reevaluate the injury and we can probably revert to a normal cast for another . . . oh, another month or so, I expect. I presume he heals well, no allergies. Looks to be in good health, decent physical shape.”
    “Jack's in good physical shape, except for a few loose marbles in his head,” Cathy nodded, an edge on her weary voice. “He jogs. No allergies except ragweed, and he heals rapidly.”
    “Yeah,” Ryan confirmed. “Her teethmarks go away in under a week, usually.” He thought this uproariously funny, but no one laughed.
    “Good,” Sir Charles said. “So, Doctor, you can see that your husband is in good hands. I will leave the two of you together for five minutes. After that, I wish that he should get some rest, and you look as though you could use some also.” The surgeon moved off with Bette Davis in his wake.
    Cathy moved closer to him, changing yet again from cool professional to concerned wife. Ryan told himself for perhaps the millionth time how lucky he was to have this girl. Caroline Ryan had a small, round face, short butter-blond hair, and the world's prettiest blue eyes. Behind those eyes was a person with intelligence at least the equal of his own, someone he loved as much as a man could. He would never understand how he'd won her. Ryan was painfully aware that on his best day his own undistinguished features, a heavy beard and a lantern jaw, made him look like a dark-haired Dudley Do-Right of the Mounties. She played pussycat to his crow. Jack tried to reach out for her hand, but was foiled by straps. Cathy took his.
    “Love ya, babe,” he said softly.
    “Oh, Jack.” Cathy tried to hug him. She was foiled by the cast that he couldn't even see. “Jack, why the hell did you do that?”
    He had already decided how to answer that. “It's over and I'm still alive, okay? How's Sally?”
    “I think she's finally asleep. She's downstairs with a policeman.” Cathy did look tired. “How do you think she is. Jack? Dear God, she saw you killed almost. You scared us both to death.” Her china-blue eyes were rimmed in red, and her hair looked terrible. Jack saw. Well, she never was able to do much of anything with her hair. The surgical caps always ruined it.
    “Yeah, I know. Anyway, it doesn't look like I'll be doing much more of that for a while,” he grunted. “Matter of fact, it doesn't look like I'll be doing much of anything for a while.” That drew a smile. It was good to see her smile.
    “Fine. You're supposed to conserve your energy. Maybe this'll teach you a lesson -- and don't tell me about all those strange hotel beds going to waste.” She squeezed his hand. Her smile turned impish. “We'll probably work something out in a few weeks. How do I look?”
    “Like hell.” Jack laughed quietly. “I take it the doc was a somebody?”
    He saw his wife relax a little. “You might say that. Sir Charles Scott is one of