Джеймс Паттерсон - Ambush

“A little better than Gowanda.”

Eddie said, “What kind of computer are you on right now?”

Brian gave him a quick laugh and said, “It’s no brand name, that’s for sure. One of the classes here is computer technology. These computers were all built by parts ordered in bulk. It’s a big ugly desktop, but it gets the job done.”

I realized that prison life had filed off any ideas Brian might have had about luxury. But he looked good. His smile alone was enough to cheer me up.

Seamus chased away the kids and sat down with me on the couch so the two of us could talk to Brian alone.

My grandfather said, “Are you keeping your priorities straight, Brian?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve signed up for every possible course. I’m trying to read two books a week, and I go to the service in our chapel every Sunday.”

Seamus nodded in approval. “Good lad, good lad.”

I finally had my turn to speak with my son for a few minutes. I told him, “Don’t worry. I haven’t given up on getting you out. I have other angles to work on.”

“I’m not worried, Dad. I know you’ll do your best. Who knows? Like Gramps says, ‘God works in mysterious ways.’”

That was enough for me. No matter what happened or what conflicts I faced on the NYPD, I could rest easy knowing my son believed in me.

And there was no way I was going to let him down.