hoping you wouldn't look that close.'
'We're very careful people. Is it stolen?'
'Hell, no, it's not stolen! Or maybe it is now, hah?'
'Don't become agitated, please. Just tell me
The Green Ripper where you got it.' I told him. He thought it over and nodded. 'So you decided to make your funds last as long as possible, so your search would not be hampered by the need to seek employment.'
'That's exactly correct.'
We went inside. He sat on the straight chair and told the girl to go get my clothes. She hesitated, and he looked stonily at her and said, 'Sister?' She scuttled away. She brought the clothing. Persival sent her away. He watched me dress. He said, 'You seem to have suffered an extraordinary number of wounds, Mr. McGraw. Are they all service- connected?'
'No, sir, not all. Two are. High on my back on the right side and the shoulder. And here on the left hip.'
'How about that huge wound on your right thigh?'
'What was a hunting accident long ago. I went a long time before they found me. It got infected, and I was out of my head and nearly died. Some of this other stuff, I'm in kind of an active line of work. And the guys I work with, when we play we play rough. Beside that, sir, I have a bad temper sometimes. I go out of my head, sort of. I haven't kilt anybody, but I've tried hard.'
'You don't seem to have the hands of a commercial fisherman.'
I held my hands out and looked at them, backs and fronts. 'What do you mean? Oh, you mean like those old boys that go out in the freezing water off of Maine or someplace? They get those big paws like catcher's mitts, and those busted twisted fingers. My daddy had hands like that from working the big nets. It's all nylon now, and you have to wear tough gloves or cut yourself to ribbons. Besides, I haven't been out working the nets for a long time now.'
'You seem to be in excellent shape, Mr. McGraw.'
'I'm not as good as I'd like to be. You know, the old wind. And the legs give out first. But I've always stayed in pretty good shape. Never had a beer belly.'
'And you have had combat experience?'
'As a grunt. I can do the BAR, mortars, flame, mines, whatever. I was in it fourteen months. Got to be a utility infielder.'
'Then you must have watched our little... patrol with a practiced eye. Would you have any comment?'
'I haven't seen much. They're trained down fine, physically. They move quick and they move well. They carry the weapons at the ready. But all the rest of it? I don't know what they can do. They look good. What are they training up to do any- way?'
'Please sit down there, on the mattress, Mr. McGraw. Make yourself comfortable.' He hitched the straight chair closer and leaned over, forearms
The Green Ripper resting on his knees, long fingers dangling. '] will do you the courtesy of speaking to you with absolute frankness.'
'Something happened to my little girl?'
'Please. I wouldn't know about that, nor even how I could find out. I am trying to tell you that if I were to follow my own rules, I would have my young associates take you out into the tall trees and blow your head off.'
'Why? Why the hell would you do that?'
'You came stumbling and bumbling in here through an entrance that should have been guarded. The young man responsible will be punished. But I am not taking pity on your innocence and your naive quest. I am thinking of sparing you only because I believe there is some specific use I can make of you.'
'Such as what?'
'Are you in any position to ask me that, right now?'
'I reckon not, if you don't want me to, Mr. Persival.'
It was getting so dark I could hardly see his face. I could see a pale reflection of the after-dusk sky in his tinted glasses. He had a strange weight and force about him. Total confidence and a total im- partiality.
The distant engine started. The overhead bulb flickered, glowed, brightened. He stood up and stared down at me, then turned on his heel and left, leaving the door open. I walked out and stood with my thumbs hooked in my belt, looking at the faint glow in the western sky, above the sharp tips of the big pines far down the slope. I had the feeling I was being watched, and that it had been set up before Persival paid his call. I yawned and stretched, scratched myself, and slouched back into C Building, wondering if I should have pushed the money question a little harder. Would Tom McGraw have pushed it? Not when faced with the possibility of getting shot in the head.
I wondered when they were going to bring me something to eat, and if it would be the stew again.
Then I heard them all coming. They had flashlights and lanterns. I tightened up, and then heard laughter.
The sallow blonde arrived first, carrying a camp stool and a cooking pot and a flashlight. 'We're having a party, Brother Thomas! At your house!'
'So come right in, Sister Stella. Come right in,' I said.
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10 They filled the room. They brought stools and cush ions, a gasoline lantern, food, and wine. Nine of them and one of me. Plastic paper plates and genu ine forks. Paper cups and a big container of coffee. Jolly and smiling. I knew Chuck, the patrol leader, and three of his six soldiers Nena and Stella and the Oriental. I learned that the Oriental was Sammy. The other three were Haris, a slender blond Englishman the name pronounced to rhyme with police and Barry, a young black with a shaved head and dusty tan coloring, and Ahman, who looked like a young Turkish pirate. Persival was there, and also Alvor, one I had not seen be fore. He was chunky, with a broad gray heavy face, 149
John D. Ifi&cDonald colorless eyes and lips, mouse hair, and huge shoulders. I made certain I got all the names right. Alvor had to have been in the van with Persival. Nicky was missing, and I overheard a comment that indicated he was down at the gate as a lookout.
I was sitting on the narrow mattress, leaning back against a cushion, with Nena and Stella on ei- ther side of me. I was the center of all attention. When I remarked that it had certainly seemed like a very strange Christmas day, they reacted as if I had said something profound and witty. We had Christmas toasts in a sharp California red. I was being touched by the young women beside me, not in any sensuous way, but with little pats of affection, of lacing. And when the men would squat in front of me to talk directly to me, they would slap me on the side of the leg, give my ankle a squeeze. Wherever I looked there was someone maintaining direct eye contact with me, projecting warm am proval. I tucked McGee's suspicions into the back of my mind. Brother Tom McGraw was a lonely man, of lonely habits. So I responded to warmth. And to Battery.
'A knew at once you are a highly intelligent and sensitive man, Mr. McGraw,' Persival said. 'I could sense that about you. But you seem to feel the need to conceal the real you from the outside world. We are not like that here. We're together.'
'In school I never got past '
'Public education in this country means less than
The Green Ripper nothing,' Sammy said. 'From the earliest grades, the children are taught to conform, to be good con- sumers, to have no interest in their government or the structure of their society. The rebels drop out. The rich get classified as exceptional students and go on to the schools which teach them how to run the world, their world. Never apologize for dropping out, Brother.'
The stew was beef this time. I said it was great. Haris, the Englishman, had cooked it. 'Whatever there is, we share. Always,' he said.
'You're a worker,' Nena told me. 'You have a skill. You use your skill to feed the people. Even though you are exploited, it's still something to be proud of.'
Mr. Persival said, with poetry and force, 'iWe can guess that there have been Christmas nights like this in mountain country all over the world, little groups of determined people, meeting together, all of them willing to give their lives for their beliefs. In the Cuban mountains. In the mountains of Honduras. Mexico, Yugoslavia, Chile, Peru, Rhodesia. Together, sharing, living the great dream.'
'~Vhat's the dream?' I asked.
'The same as yours, of course,' said Persival. 'Freedom for all people of all colors. An end to imperialist exploitation. To each according to his needs. You are the kind of man who, once committed, would give his life for what he believes.'
'I've been known as stubborn. I don't give up easy. But what you were saying there, sir, isn't that kind of Commie?'
He shook his head sadly. 'Communist, Socialist, humanist, Christian Democrat, Liberation Army. The tags mean less than nothing, Brother Thomas. We do God's work. We are the militant arm of the Church of the Apocryphal We are the ones who have been tested. We work for mankind against the exploiters, deceivers, the criminal warmongers. We will win if we have to tear down the entire structure of society. Your daughter believed in the cause or she wouldn't have joined us.'
'She wasn't much for destroying things.'
'Most of the people in the Church are gentle people. We are the elite. We're pleased with you, Brother Thomas. We may have a mission for you.'
It was at that point I began to feel very strange. At first I thought it was because the room was airless, even
