The Cardinal of the Kremlin - By Tom Clancy Page 0,196

took the dirt road off it, lights out, and was at the trailer before the prisoner regained consciousness.

Behind them, a passing motorist saw the policeman on the shoulder and pulled over to assist him. The man was in agony, with a bloody wound to his face and nine missing teeth. The motorist ran to the police car and put out a radio call. It took a minute before the dispatcher got things straight, but three minutes after that a second radio car was there, then five more in as many minutes. The wounded officer was unable to speak, but handed up his clipboard, which had the car's description and tag number written down. He also still had "Bob Taylor's" driver's license. That was message enough for the other officers. An immediate call was put out over all local police frequencies. Someone had shot a police officer. The actual crime that had been committed was far more serious than that, but the police did not know, nor would they have cared.

Candi was surprised to see that Al wasn't home. Her jaw was still numb from the Xylocaine shots, and she decided on soup. But where's Al? Maybe he had to stay late for something. She knew that she could call, but it wasn't that big a deal and with the way her mouth felt, there wasn't much in way of talking she could have done anyway.

At police headquarters on Cerrillos Road, the computers were already humming. A telex was dispatched at once to Oklahoma, where brother police officers took immediate note of the magnitude of the crime and punched up their own computer records. They learned at once that there was no license for Robert J. Taylor of 1353 N.W. 108th Street, Oklahoma City, OK 73210, nor was there a Plymouth Reliant will tag number XSW-498. The tag number, in fact, did not exist. The sergeant who ran the computer section was more than surprised. To be told that there was no record of a tag wasn't all that unusual, but to get a no-hit on a tag and a license, and in a case with an officer-involved shooting was pushing the laws of probability too hard. He lifted the phone for senior watch officer. "Captain, we have something really crazy here on the Mendez shooting."

The state of New Mexico is filled with areas belonging to the federal government, and has a long history of highly sensitive activities. The Captain didn't know what had happend but he knew at once that this wasn't a traffic incident. A minute after that, he was on the phone to the local FBI offiot,

Jennings and Perkins were there before Officer Mendez came out of surgery. The waiting room was so crowded

policemen that it was fortunate the hospital had no surgical patients at the moment. The Captain running investigation was there, as were the state police chaplain half a dozen other officers who worked the same ward as Mendez, plus Mrs. Mendez, who was seven months pregnant. Presently the doctor came out and announced that he'll be fine. The only major blood vessel damaged had been repaired. The officer's jaw and teeth had taken most of damage, and a maxillary surgeon would start repairing damage in a day or two. The officer's wife cried a bit and was taken to see her husband before two of his fellows drove her home. Then it was time for everyone to get to work.

"He must have had the gun in the poor bastard's back." Mendez said slowly, his words distorted by the wires holding his jaw together. He'd already refused a pain medication. He wanted to get the information out quickly, and was willing to suffer a little to do it. The state police officer was a very angry man. "Only way he coulda got it out so fast."

"The photo on the license, is it accurate?" Agent Jennings asked.

"Yes, ma'am." Pete Mendez was a young officer, and managed to make Jennings feel her age with that remark. He next got out rough descriptions of the other two. Then came the victim; "Maybe thirty, skinny, glasses. He was wearing a jacket-like a uniform jacket. I didn't see any insignia, but I didn't get much of a look. He had his hair cut like he was in the service, too. Don't know the eye color, either, but there was something funny his eyes were shiny, like- oh, the Mace smell. Maybe that was it. Maybe they Maced him. He didn't say