tc.thebearandthedragon-第76部分
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licopter； to which the taxpayers and the media didn't object…not after SANDBOX； also known as Katie Ryan； had been attacked in her daycare center by some terrorists。 The kids were off watching televisions of their own； and Kyle Daniel； known to the Secret Service as SPRITE； was asleep in his crib。 And so； that Dr。 Ryan…code name SURGEON…was sitting in her own chair in front of the TV； going over her patient notes and checking a medical journal as part of her never…ending professional education。
〃How are things at work； honey？〃 SWORDSMAN asked SURGEON。
〃Pretty good； Jack。 Bernie Katz has a new granddaughter。 He's all bubbly about it。〃
〃Which kid？〃
〃His son Mark…got married two years ago。 We went； remember？〃
〃That's the lawyer？〃 Jack asked； remembering the ceremony； in the good old days； before he'd been cursed into the Presidency。
〃Yeah； his other son； David； is the doctor…up at Yale； on the faculty； thoracic SURGEON。〃
〃Have I met that one？〃 Jack couldn't remember。
〃No。 He went to school out west； UCLA。〃 She turned the page in the current New England Journal of Medicine； then decided to dog…ear it。 It was an interesting piece on a new discovery in anesthesia； something worth remembering。 She'd talk about it at lunch with one of the professors。 It was her custom to lunch with her colleagues in different fields； to keep current on what was going on in medicine。 The next big breakthrough； she thought； would be in neurology。 One of her Hopkins colleagues had discovered a drug that seemed to make damaged nerve cells regrow。 If it panned out； that was a Nobel Prize。 It would be the ninth hanging on the trophy wall of the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine。 Her work with surgical lasers had won her a Lasker Public Service Award…the highest such award in American medicine…but it hadn't been fundamental enough for a trip to Stockholm。 That was fine with her。 Ophthalmology wasn't that sort of field； but fixing people's sight was pretty damned rewarding。 Maybe the one good thing about Jack's elevation and her attendant status as First Lady was that she'd have a real shot at the Directorship of the Wilmer Institute if and when Bernie Katz ever decided to hang it up。 She'd still be able to practice medicine…that was something she never wanted to give up…and also be able to oversee research in her field； decide who got the grants； where the really important exploratory work was； and that； she thought； was something she might be good at。 So； maybe this President stuff wasn't a total loss。
Her only real beef was that people expected her to dress like a supermodel； and while she had always dressed well； being a clotheshorse had never appealed to her。 It was enough； she figured； to wear nice formal gowns at all the damned formal affairs she had to attend （and not get charged for it； since the gowns were all donated by the makers）。 As it was； Women's Wear Daily didn't like her normal choice of clothing； as though her white lab coat was a fashion statement…no； it was her uniform； like the Marines who stood at the doors to the White House； and one she wore with considerable pride。 Not many women； or men； could claim to be at the very pinnacle of their profession。 But she could。 As it was； this had turned into a nice evening。 She didn't even mind Jack's addiction to The History Channel； even when he grumbled at some minor mistake in one of their shows。 Assuming； she chuckled to herself； that he was right； and the show was wrong。。。。 Her wineglass was empty； and since she didn't have any procedures scheduled for the next day； she waved to the usher for a refill。 Life could have been worse。 Besides； they'd had their big scare with those damned terrorists； and with good luck and that wonderful FBI agent Andrea Price had married； they'd survived； and she didn't expect anything like that to happen again。 Her own Secret Service detail was her defense against that。 Her own Principal Agent； Roy Altman； inspired the same sort of confidence at his job that she did at hers； Cathy judged。
〃Here you go； Dr。 Ryan；〃 the usher said； delivering the refilled glass。
〃Thank you； George。 How are the kids？〃
〃My oldest just got accepted to Notre Dame；〃 he answered proudly。
〃That's wonderful。 What's she going to major in？〃
〃Premed。〃
Cathy looked up from her journal。 〃Great。 If there's any way I can help her； you let me know； okay？〃
〃Yes； ma'am； I sure will。〃 And the nice thing； George thought； was that she wasn't kidding。 The Ryan's were very popular with the staff； despite their awkwardness with all the fussing。 There was one other family the Ryan's looked after； the widow and kids of some Air Force sergeant whose connection with the Ryan's nobody seemed to understand。 And Cathy had personally taken care of two kids of staff members who'd had eye problems。
〃What's tomorrow look like； Jack？〃
〃Speech to the VFW convention in Atlantic City。 I chopper there and back after lunch。 Not a bad speech Callie wrote for me。〃
〃She's a little weird。〃
〃She's different；〃 the President agreed； 〃but she's good at what she does。〃
Thank God； Cathy didn't say aloud； that I don't have to do much of that！ For her； a speech was telling a patient how she was going to fix his or her eyes。
There's a new Papal Nuncio in Beijing；〃 the producer said。
〃That's an ambassador； like； isn't it？〃
The producer nodded。 〃Pretty much。 Italian guy； Cardinal Renato DiMilo。 Old guy； don't know anything about him。〃
〃Well； maybe we can drive over and meet the guy；〃 Barry thought as he knotted his tie。 〃Got an address and phone number？〃
〃No； but our contact at the American Embassy can get 'em quick enough。〃
〃Give the guy a call；〃 Wise ordered gently。 He and the producer had been together for eleven years； and together they'd dodged bullets and won those Emmys； which wasn't bad for a couple of ex…Marine sergeants。
〃Right。〃
Wise checked his watch。 The timing worked just fine。 He could get a report at his leisure； upload it on the satellite； and Atlanta could edit it and show it to people for breakfast in America。 That would pretty much take care of his day in this heathen country。 Damn； why couldn't they do trade conferences in Italy？ He remembered Italian food fondly from his time in the Mediterranean Fleet Marine Force。 And the Italian women。 They'd like the United States Marine uniform。 Well； lots of women did。
One thing neither Cardinal DiMilo nor Monsignor Schepke had learned to like was Chinese breakfast food； which was totally alien from anything Europeans had ever served for the early…morning meal。 And so Schepke fixed breakfast every morning before their Chinese staff came in…they'd do the dishes； which was enough for both churchmen。 Both had already said their morning mass； which necessitated their rising before six every morning； rather like soldiers did； the elderly Italian had often remarked to himself。
The morning paper was the International Herald Tribune； which was too American…oriented； but the world was an imperfect place。 At least the paper showed the football scores； and European football was a sport of interest to both of them； and one which Schepke could still go out and play when the opportunity arose。 DiMilo； who'd been a pretty good midfielder in his day； had to content himself with watching and kibitzing now。
The CNN crew had their own van； an American make that had been shipped into the PRC ages ago。 It had its own miniature satellite transceiver rig； a small technical miracle of sorts that enabled instant contact with any place in the world via orbiting munications satellites。 It could do anything but operate when the vehicle was moving； and someone was working on that feature； which would be the next major breakthrough； because then the mobile crews could work with little threat of interference from the goffers in whatever country they happened to be operating。
They also had a satellite…navigation system； which was a genuine miracle that allowed them to navigate anywhere； in any city for which they had a CD…ROM map。 With it； they could find any address faster than a local taxi driver。 And with a cell phone； they could get the address itself； in this case from the U。S。 embassy； which had the street addresses for all foreign legations； of which the Papal Nuncio's house was just one more。 The cell phone also allowed them to call ahead。 The call was answered by a Chinese voice at first； then one that sounded German； of all things； but which said； sure； e on over。
Barry Wise was dressed in his usual coat and tie…his neatness was another leftover from the Marines…and he knocked on the door； finding the expected local…he was tempted to call them 〃natives；〃 but that was too English； and distantly racist…at the door to conduct them in。 The first Westerner they met was clearly not a Cardinal。 Too young； too tall； and far too German。
〃Hello； I am Monsignor Schepke；〃 the man greeted him。
〃Good day； I am Barry Wise of CNN。〃
〃Yes；〃 Schepke acknowledged with a smile。 〃I have seen you many times on the television。 What brings you here？〃
〃We're here to cover the trade meeting between America and China； but we decided to look for other items of interest。 We were surprised to see that the Vatican has a diplomatic mission here。〃
Schepke ushered Wise into his office and motioned him to a fortable chair。 〃I've been here for several months； but the Cardinal just arrived recently。〃
〃Can I meet him？〃
〃Certainly； but His Eminence is on the phone to Rome at the moment。 Do you mind waiting a few minutes？〃
〃No problem；〃 Wise assured him。 He looked the monsignor over。 He looked athletic； tall； and very German。 Wise had visited that country many times； and always felt somewhat uneasy there； as if the racism that had occasioned the Holocaust was still there somewhere； hiding close by but out of sight。 In other clothing； he would have taken Schepke for a soldier； even a Marine。 He looked physically fit and very smart； clearly a keen observer。
〃What order are you in； if I may ask？〃 Wise said。
〃The Society of Jesus；〃 Schepke replied。
A Jesuit； Wise thought at once。 That explained it。 〃From Germany？〃
〃Correct； but I'm based in Rome now at Robert Bellarmine University； and I was asked to
