Without Remorse (John Clark, #1; Jack Ryan Universe, #1)

by Tom Clancy

Tucker was still looking at Bobby’s face when his head jerked upwards, hearing the thud of what had to be another body, rattling the steel-bar joists of the roof. “Oh, my God…”

37

Trial by Ordeal

“It’s him! He’s out there!” Tucker said. “Who?” “The one who got Billy and Rick and Burt—” “Kelly!” Charon exclaimed, turning around to look at the closed door. “You know his name?” Tucker asked. “Ryan and Douglas are after him—they want him for a string of killings.”

John T. Kelly, Chief Boatswain’s Mate, U.S. Navy SEALs. Where the hell are you? If I were you… where would I be? Where would I go?

Kelly turned left, proceeded west one block, then left again, heading south towards O’Donnell Street. His hands were sweating now. There were three of them, and he’d have to be very, very good. But he was good, and he had to finish the job, even if the job might finish him.

If the dead still lived on the surface of this earth, then it was in the minds of those who remembered them, and for that memory he’d killed Henry Tucker and all the others. Perhaps Pam would not rest any more easily. But he would. Kelly saw that Tucker had departed this life while he’d been thinking, examining his thoughts and his conscience. No, there was no remorse for this man, none for the others.

Mission accomplished.

“John Kelly, right?” “Who might you be?” “Emmet Ryan? You’ve met my partner, Tom Douglas.”

The officer paused. “I have to take you in, you know.” “What for?” “For murder, Mr. Kelly.” “No.” Kelly shook his head. “It’s only murder when innocent people die.”

“Henry Tucker won’t kill any more girls. I accomplished that. I never expected to do any more, but I took that drug operation down.” Kelly paused. There was something else this man needed to know. “There’s a cop at that building. I think he was dirty. Tucker and Piaggi shot him. Maybe he can come out of this a hero. There’s a load of stuff there. It won’t look too bad for your department that way.”

Kelly set his autopilot and rushed to make the necessary preparations. He cut the corner at Bodkin Point. He had to. He knew who they’d send after him.

The man sure didn’t give me any slack, Kelly thought, seeing the cutter closing from starboard. Well, he’d asked for an hour, and an hour he’d received.

Ritter paused and went on formally. “Your behavior to our prisoners was as correct as circumstances allowed. Thank you for that.” “It is my wish that they get home safely. They are not bad men.” “Neither are you.”

“Coast Guard Forty-One, Coast Guard Forty-One, this is U.S. Navy sailboat on your port beam, can we render assistance, over?” “We could use some extra eyes, Navy. Who’s aboard?” “Couple of admirals, the one talking’s an aviator, if that helps.” “Join in, sir.”

Three days later, a file clerk from St. Louis called Lieutenant Ryan to say that the Kelly file was back but she couldn’t say from where. Ryan thanked her for her effort. He’d closed that case along with the rest, and didn’t even try the FBI records center for Kelly’s card, and thus made unnecessary Bob Ritter’s substitution of the prints of someone unlikely ever to visit America again.

Five months later, Sandra O’Toole resigned her position at Johns Hopkins and moved to the Virginia tidewater, where she took over a whole floor of the area’s teaching hospital on the strength of a glowing recommendation from Professor Samuel Rosen.

EPILOGUE

February 12,1973

“Right there behind Captain Denton is Colonel Robin Zacharias, of the Air Force. He’s one of the fifty-three prisoners about whom we had no information until very recently, along with…”

“I hope you’re proud of yourself, John,” Dutch Maxwell said. “We’re getting all twenty back. I wanted to make sure you knew that. It wouldn’t have happened without you.”