“About some things,” Ramsey said noncommittally.
“Any particular reason this one stands out?”
“Instead of beating around the bush here, son, why don’t you just come out and say what you think you’ve got to say?”
“I want to lay some groundwork first so you see where I’m coming from. I’m going to lay my cards on the table.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m going to put mine there, son.” Ramsey’s tone was guarded.
“One of my agents is Shelton McHenry.”
“I knew a young soldier named McHenry.”
“Yes, sir. Tyrel McHenry. That’s my agent’s father.”
“Small world,” Ramsey commented.
“It is at times,” Will agreed. “A couple months ago, my agent had to shoot and kill a young man named Bobby Lee Gant.”
“Now there’s another name I know.”
“His father was Victor Gant.”
“Seems like I recall the incident with your man from the news. It was ruled a good shooting.”
“Not by Victor Gant, Colonel. Gant has tried to kill my agent in retaliation on more than one occasion.”
“You’re lucky he didn’t get it done. Gant was a killing machine back in Vietnam.”
“That’s what I’ve heard. Shel’s not an easy man to kill.”
“He must not be.”
Will shifted in his chair. “During the course of our investigation into Victor Gant, we were told about PFC Hinton. We’ve since learned that Hinton went missing while in the company of Victor Gant and his fire team.”
“That’s right. They told me that Hinton got lost in the jungle. It happened to some men. They got blind drunk or stoned, or both, and walked into the jungle never to return.”
“But you never thought that was what really happened to Hinton.”
At the other end of the phone, Ramsey took a deep breath. “Not for a New York minute.”
“Because PFC Hinton didn’t drink,” Will said, “and he would have been less inclined, according to his service jacket, to drink while on duty.”
“Hinton was a good soldier,” Ramsey said. “His kind was hard to come by in some places.”
“Was that why the CID was using him as an undercover operative?” Will asked.
Ramsey was quiet for a time. Then he asked, “What do you have, Commander Coburn?”
“I’ve got testimony that Hinton was shot, killed, and buried in a grave off Highway 19 that night,” Will said.
The silence stretched over the phone connection.
“I looked for that boy for a long time,” Ramsey finally said. “It was like he disappeared.”
“He did.”
“Did Gant kill him?”
“No. He was shot by Tyrel McHenry.”
“How do you know this?”
“Because McHenry told my agent that this morning,” Will said.
“Why would McHenry shoot Hinton? I never put McHenry with Gant and his goons. He was the reason I believed it was possible Hinton had wandered off. I wouldn’t have believed Gant or his men. McHenry, though, seemed solid. Just green. All those kids were.”
“It was an accident.” Will described the situation as Shel had given it to him.
“That still doesn’t make sense. Gant could have brought Hinton back in and reported the accident.”
“Maybe he was so used to covering his tracks by that point that lying was second nature.”
“Why did McHenry lie?”
“He was twenty-one years old,” Will reminded. “Nothing in his life had prepared him for what had happened out there.”
“No. You’re right about that. What do you need from me?”
“I need to know about Hinton. I still can’t figure out why Gant would ask Hinton along or why Hinton would accept. The only thing I came up with was that Hinton was working undercover for the CID and that Gant suspected it.”
“Working undercover for the Criminal Investigation Command was dangerous,” Ramsey said. “Men who informed on soldiers ended up dead. Either at camp or-easier yet-out in the jungle. The only law over there at that time was survival of the fittest.”
Will waited. Even if Ramsey didn’t confirm his suspicions, he felt certain he was right.
“Hinton was working undercover for me,” Ramsey said. “I needed someone who could get in on the inside of those men. Hinton went with them that night because of me. He knew I wanted to bring Gant down, and he didn’t like Gant either.” His voice softened. “I got that boy killed that night.”
“No,” Will said. “Bad luck did.” And he couldn’t help feeling that bad luck had struck all the way around. It had also cost Tyrel McHenry forty years of his life.
57
›› La Quinta Inn
›› El Paso, Texas
›› 1852 Hours (Central Time Zone)
“Director Larkin,” Will said when the phone was answered.
“Will? How are things there?” Larkin’s voice was quiet and controlled.
“Confusing and painful, sir,” Will replied.
“With everything you’ve told me, I can see how that would be the case.”
Will paced at the window and watched the sun going down in the west. He tried to frame in his mind how best to ask what he knew he had to ask. He and Larkin had a good working relationship, but he knew what he was about to request might be hard for the director to handle.
“I need you to arrange something for me,” Will said.
“If I can.” Larkin didn’t hesitate, but he also didn’t readily agree.
“I want to take my team to Vietnam.”
“Why?”
“To recover the body of an American GI who’s been missing since 1967.”
“Dennis Hinton?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you know where his body is?”
“I think we can get close enough to find it.”
“Hinton’s recovery would be more in the Army’s interest.”
“If Shel’s father weren’t on the line for a murder charge, I’d agree with you, sir. But that’s exactly where Tyrel McHenry is.”
“I know this has to be hurting Shel, Will, and I know you take the things that happen to your team personally-”
“Every time,” Will interrupted.
“-and I respect that, but the Army isn’t going to like being cut out of this.”
“The Army can’t rescue PFC Hinton,” Will said gently.
“Neither can you. PFC Hinton has been dead for four decades. To me it sounds like you’re more concerned with keeping Shel’s father’s head off the block than with conducting a criminal investigation.”
Will paused a moment. “I want to know exactly what happened that night, sir. Once we figure out what happened, we’ll know who was guilty of what.”
“Do you think there’s going to be any crime scene evidence left after forty years?”
