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Chapters (83)
  1. Cover
  2. ALSO BY TOM CLANCY
  3. PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
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  83. What’s next onyour reading list?

“Security wouldn’t let me tell you,” Senior said, nodding at the two Secret Service agents standing behind him.

“It’s usually a three-ring circus when you come to town. How’d you manage to keep this quiet?”

Senior smiled as he signed the register. “The press plane was accidentally delayed a few hours by an unexpected mechanical inspection.”

The first few notes of an old Hammond organ began to play in the sanctuary.

“It’s time,” Senior said.

—

The pastor concluded his brief homily and introduced President Ryan, seated in the front row, along with DNI Mary Pat Foley, CIA director Jay Canfield, Gerry Hendley, John Clark, and Jack Junior.

Junior recognized several other retired dignitaries from the IC community farther back in the chapel. He was surprised at their turnout. Was it just a courtesy to his dad?

The doors were closed and guarded inside and out by Secret Service agents as helicopter rotors beat the air above the small country church, keeping overwatch. The President’s handlers weren’t taking any chances after Mexico City.

President Ryan stepped forward. He paused briefly, laying a hand on the closed casket that stood in front of the altar before ascending the three short steps to the pulpit.

He glanced out over the small gathering of fifteen or so people, mostly gray-haired farmers and dairymen with their sturdy wives, all dressed in their Sunday best. They stared at the President, skeptical and surprised.

Junior felt underdressed in his short-sleeved shirt and tie, but with his arm in a cast and a sling, he couldn’t manage a suit. His bruises had all turned to purple and yellow, and his scratches had scabbed over. He looked like he’d fallen through a hay baler. He wondered if these farmers thought so, too.

“It is my honor and privilege to mourn the loss and celebrate the life of Paul Brown with you today,” the President began. “You all knew Paul better than I did, but I doubt that anyone here owes a greater personal debt of gratitude to him than me and my family, and I wanted to express that publicly.” He turned toward the casket. “Thank you, Paul.”

Senior gave the slightest nod to his son, who returned the same.

“Paul Brown was a brilliant, modest, hardworking man who rendered a quiet and selfless service to his country and his friends. Our nation was built on the shoulders of such men and women, and our greatness will be sustained by them as well.