'Not always.' The young woman regarded Rodgers. Neutrality suddenly looked more like exhaustion. 'General Mike I really don't know about what Lucy did or did not do. And I do not want to be defensive. It's just this whole thing has been a distraction at the worst possible time. Part of me believes it was designed that way by a person or group that does not want to see the senator become president or even have a voice in this election.'
'Do you have any idea who that might be?'
'Sure. Every lobbyist and politician from the center to the left.
Political rivals like Senator Debenport and Governor Jimmy Phyfe of Ohio, both of whom want President Lawrence's job.'
'Do you have specific information that either of those men may be involved in the assassination?' Rodgers asked. 'If you do, even if it's just a suspicion, this would be the time to tell me.'
'There are rumors that Debenport and Lawrence are using the presidency to attract allies for partisan activities, but we have no proof of that,' Kat told him. 'Anything you can imagine is possible in Washington, but I don't even want to believe that.'
Rodgers had always felt like a resistance fighter, risking his life to stop oppression. At the moment he felt like a collaborator, dirty and small. He moved closer. 'You just said that anything you can imagine is possible. I have never done a lot of abstract thinking, Kat. I look at maps, at facts, at logistics. Since this thing started, I have been taking one small step at a time, just as I did whenever I led a unit against an enemy position. The difference is, I am accustomed to knowing who my opponent is. This is new ground for me and for Op-Center.'
'For all of us,' Kat said. 'I have never been part of a murder investigation.'
'At least your involvement is peripheral at best,' Rodgers pointed out.
'For that matter, the spotlight is on Lucy now, not any of your coworkers.'
'I still do not believe she had anything to do with it.'
'Why? Talk to me.'
'Let me ask you something first,' she said. 'You've killed people.
What does it take to do that?'
'Unless you're a textbook sociopath, all it takes is the first kill to commit the second and third,' Rodgers told her.
'I don't understand.'
'It's like skydiving or eating snake,' Rodgers said. 'You've already made the determination that it's something you need to do. What you need then is something to kick you over your gag reflex. One of my Strikers, Corporal Pat Prementine, had to think of a high school bully he hated the first time he lobbed a grenade.'
'What did it take for you?'
'Economy.'
'What?'
'Two weeks after I arrived, my platoon was doing recon in the southern region of the Central Plateau,' Rodgers said. 'We bumped into a large 'Cong encampment. They tried to surround us, and we knew we would have to punch hard and fast to secure an exit route. I was ordered to hunker down behind a rank-smelling tree trunk and cover a small clearing. I did. My soles were deep in muck, bugs crawled over my boots, and I was hot as hell. I heard gunfire start to crack in sporadic bursts. It was a hollow, distant, lonely noise that shut all the birds and insects up. I never experienced such silence once the shooting started. I knew the guys with guns would be coming my way soon enough, and I had to face the fact that I could die. I was okay with that. I made mental good-byes and said some quiet I-love-yous to my folks. While I was doing that, I saw an opportunistic target. Five 'Cong moved into position about two hundred yards away. They did not see me. I remember staring along my M1 thinking it wasn't fair to clock them from hiding, without warning. I even thought, Hell. This is their home. What business do I have shooting them? Then I saw one of them pull a bamboo stick grenade from a pouch. That was highly explosive, very deadly ordnance. I couldn't see our guys, but obviously Charlie could. Otherwise, he would not be going for the grenade. And at that moment it hit me. If I tag him, he 'II drop the pestle that's what the grenade looked like, a pharmacist's pestle and it will blow all five of them to snake food. The 'Cong were crouching, and this guy stuck his head up for a last look. I had done the math, it worked, and I took the shot. It was clean, through his temple. The other four guys shouted and scrambled, I ducked behind the tree, and the pestle blew. I sat there with my back against the damp trunk as the smoke and the sharp smell of the explosive charge rolled by. I held my breath so I didn't start to cough and reveal my position to any backup they might have had. After about a minute, I swung around to look at the clearing. I saw a couple of 'Cong crawling through the smoke to try to find whoever had fired the shot. I picked them off.'
'The second group was easier to kill?'
