'That's different.'
'Sure it is. You won. I already told you that, too.'
'Not what I meant, dammit.' Tyler went red again. 'We dropped ours out of airplanes, the way you would with any other bomb. We didn't sneak them over the border under false pretenses.'
'Over, under, around, through-so what?' Potter said. 'Shall I apologize because we didn't have a bomber that would carry one of the goddamn things? I'm sorry, Major-I'm sorry we didn't have more, and I'm sorry we didn't have them sooner. If we did, I'd be interrogating you.'
Ezra Tyler changed the subject, which was also the victor's privilege: 'Speaking of crimes against humanity, General, what did you know about your government's extermination policy against your Negroes, and when did you know it?'
Fear trickled through Potter. If the Yankees wanted C.S. officials dead, they could always throw that one at them.
'All I knew was that I was involved in sniffing out the Negro uprising in 1915-which really did happen, Major, and which really did go a long way toward losing us that war. And I know there was a black guerrilla movement- again, a real one-before the start of this war. Those people were not our friends.'
'Do you think your government's policy had anything to do with that?'
Of course I do. You'd have to be an idiot not to. I'm not that kind of idiot, anyway. Aloud, Potter said, 'I'm a soldier. Soldiers don't make policy.'
'Yes, you are a soldier. You returned to the C.S. Army after the 1936 Richmond Olympics, where you shot a Negro who was attempting to assassinate Jake Featherston.'
'That's right.'
'Before that time, you opposed Featherston politically.'
'Yes, I was a Whig.'
'You traveled to Richmond for the Games. You had a gun. You were close to a President you opposed. Did you go there intending to shoot him yourself?'
'It's not illegal to carry a gun in the CSA, any more than it is here. The language in our Constitution comes straight from yours.' For the past eight years, Potter had been automatically saying no to that question whenever it came up. Saying yes would have got him killed-an inch at a time, no doubt. He needed a deliberate effort of will to tell the truth now: 'Scratch that, Major. Yes, I went up there with that in mind. Maybe things would have gone better if I did it, or if I let the coon do it. They couldn't have gone much worse, could they? But it's a little late to worry about it now.'
Major Tyler grunted. 'Well, maybe. After all, of course you'd make that claim now. Amazing how many Confederates always hated Jake Featherston and everything he stood for-if you ask them, anyhow…What's so funny?'
Potter's laughter was bitter as wormwood. He'd lied convincingly enough to make a connoisseur of liars like Jake Featherston believe him. All the other Confederate big shots had, too. Now he was telling the truth-and this damnyankee wouldn't take him seriously. If he didn't laugh, he would cry.
'You can believe whatever you want-you will anyhow,' he said. 'I believe plenty of people who yelled, 'Freedom!' when that looked like the smart thing to do will tell you now that they never had anything to do with anything. They know who's on top and who's on the bottom. Life is like that.'
The major wrote something in his notebook. 'You're so cynical, you could go any way at all without even worrying about it. Down deep, you don't believe in anything, do you?'
'Fuck you, Tyler,' Potter said. The Yankee blinked. Potter hadn't lost his temper before. 'Fuck you in the heart,' he repeated. 'The one woman I ever really loved, I broke up with on account of she was for Featherston and I was against him.'
'Will she testify to that?' the interrogator asked.
'No. She's dead,' Potter answered. 'She was in Charleston when your Navy bombers hit it back in the early days of the war.' He barked two more harsh notes of laughter. 'And if she were there at the end, she would have gone up in smoke with the rest of the city because of your superbomb.'
Major Tyler gave him a dead-fish look. 'You're in a poor position to complain about that, wouldn't you say?'
'Mm, you may be right,' Potter admitted. That made the Yankee blink again; he didn't know Potter well enough to know his respect for the truth. Who does know me that well nowadays? Potter wondered. He couldn't think of a soul. That bespoke either a lifetime wasted or a lifetime in Intelligence, assuming the two weren't one and the same.
'If we were to release you, would you swear a loyalty oath to the United States?' the interrogator asked.
'No,' Potter said at once. 'You can conquer my country. Hell, you did conquer my country. But I don't feel like a good Socialist citizen of the USA. I'd say I was sorry I don't, only I'm not. Besides, why play games? You aren't going to turn me loose. You're just looking for the best excuse to hang me.'
'We don't need excuses-you said so yourself, and you were right,' Tyler replied. 'Let me ask you a slightly different question: would you swear not to take up arms against the USA and not to aid any rebellion or uprising against this country? You don't have to like us for that one, only to respect our strength. And if you violate that oath, the penalty, just so you understand, would be a blindfold and a cigarette-a U.S. cigarette, I'm afraid.'
'Talk about adding insult to injury,' Potter said with a sour smile. 'Yes, I might swear that oath. There's no denying we're knocked flat. And there's also no denying that pretty soon I'll get too old to be dangerous to you with the worst will in the world. Things will go the way they go, and they can go that way without me.'
'By your track record, General, you could be dangerous to us as long as you're breathing, and I think we'd be smart to make sure you don't sneak a telegraph clicker into your coffin,' Ezra Tyler said.
'You flatter me,' Potter told him.
'I doubt it,' the U.S. officer replied. 'If we were to release you, where would you go? What would you do?'
'Beats me. I spent a lot of years as a professional soldier. And when I wasn't, in between the wars, I lived in Charleston myself. Not much point going there, not unless I want to glow in the dark.' Potter took off his glasses and polished them with a handkerchief. It bought him a moment to think. 'Why are you going on and on about turning me loose, anyway? Are you trying to get my hopes up? I've been on the other end of these jobs, you know. You won't break me like that.'
If they started getting rough…He had no movie-style illusions about his own toughness. If they started cutting things or burning things or breaking things or running a few volts-you didn't need many-through sensitive places, he would sing like a mockingbird to make them stop. Anybody would. The general rule was, the only people who thought they could resist torture were the ones who'd never seen it. Oh, there were occasional exceptions, but the accent was on occasional.
Major Tyler shrugged. 'Our legal staff has some doubts about conviction, though we may go ahead anyway. If you were captured in our uniform…But you weren't.'
'Don't sound so disappointed,' Potter said.
'What did you think when that colored kid shot President Featherston?' the Yankee asked out of a blue sky.
'I didn't know who did it, not at first,' Potter answered. 'I saw him fall, and I…I knew the war was over. He kept it going, just by staying alive. If he'd made it to Louisiana, say, I don't think we could have beaten you, but we'd still be fighting. And I'd known him almost thirty years, since he was an artillery sergeant with a lousy temper. He made you pay attention to him-to who he was and to what he was. And when he got killed, it was like there was a hole in the world. We won't see anyone like him any time soon, and that's the Lord's truth.'
'I say, thank the Lord it is,' Tyler replied.
'He damn near beat you. All by himself, he damn near did.'
'I know. We all know,' Tyler said. 'And everybody who followed him is worse off because he tried. He should have left us alone.'
'He couldn't. He thought he owed you one,' Potter said. 'He was never somebody who could leave anybody alone. He aimed to pay back the Negroes for screwing him out of a promotion to second lieutenant-that's how he looked at it. He wanted to, and he did. And he wanted to pay back the USA, too, and you'll never forget him even if
