The captain from Virginia rose slowly. There was something in the steady, patient way he moved that made Tommy suddenly nervous. He thought the captain should be flying erratically, trying to keep high and level even with one engine out.
Shaking his head, smiling wryly. Captain Townsend stepped forward.
'No sir, we will have no further questions for the major. Thank you, sir.'
This got Tommy's attention. The one thing he'd been certain of as he sat down was that Townsend would need to rehabilitate Major Clark's testimony. And he counted on the belief that every effort to make Clark look like he knew what he was talking about would only serve to make his inadequacies as a criminal investigator more obvious. Tommy felt an unexpected fear, not unlike a moment many months earlier inside the Lovely Lydia, making their way home to base one evening when the bomber had been jumped by an unseen fighter and the Focke-Wulf's tracer rounds creased the blue sky beside them. It had taken all the skill his old captain from West Texas possessed to climb into the nearby clouds and elude the threatening fighter.
Then Townsend turned, looking briefly at the defense, then out at the body of airmen crammed into the theater.
'Do you have another witness?' Colonel MacNamara asked.
'Yes, we do, colonel,' Captain Townsend said carefully.
'One last witness, and then we will be completed with our case, sir.'
Townsend's voice rose quickly, gaining momentum and strength with each word, so that when he finally spoke, it was close to a bellow.
'At this point, sir, the prosecution would call Second Lieutenant Nicholas Fenelli to the witness stand!'
Hugh Renaday blurted out, 'What the bloody hell?' Lincoln Scott dropped the pencil to the table, and Tommy Hart's head suddenly reeled, as if he'd stood up too quickly. He could feel the color drain from his cheeks.
'Lieutenant Nicholas Fenelli!' Colonel MacNamara called out.
There was commotion from the crowd of airmen in the audience, as they parted to allow the erstwhile physician to make his way forward. Tommy spun about in his seat, and saw Fenelli moving steadily down the center aisle of the theater, his eyes directly on the witness chair, scrupulously avoiding contact with Tommy's.
'What the hell's this?' Renaday whispered nearby.
'A damn ambush!'
Tommy watched as Fenelli approached. He had obviously spiffed up his uniform as much as possible, shaved with a precious new blade, combed his stringy black hair, and trimmed his pencil-thin mustache. At the front of the theater, Fenelli saluted briskly, then reached out for the Bible, on which to swear to tell the whole truth. Tommy felt momentarily mesmerized by the medic's appearance, almost as if the scene in front of him were playing out in slow motion. But as Fenelli raised his hand to swear, Tommy managed to shake the surprise from his body, and he leapt up, slamming a fist down onto the table in front of him as he did so.
'Objection! Objection! Objection!'
The man being sworn in paused, still not looking in Tommy's direction.
Walker Townsend moved to the front of the tribunal, and Colonel
MacNamara leaned forward in his seat.
'State the basis for your objection, lieutenant,' MacNamara said coldly.
Tommy took a deep breath.
'This individual's name appears nowhere on the prosecution's list of witnesses. Your Honor! Therefore, he cannot be called to the stand without the defense having ample opportunity to discuss his testimony '
Walker Townsend half-turned toward Tommy, as he interrupted.
'But Lieutenant Hart, you are disingenuous! Why, you are completely familiar with Mr. Fenelli's connection to the case, and you have interviewed him at length! In fact, it is my belief you intended to call him to the stand yourself.'
'Is that true, Mr. Hart?' Colonel MacNamara demanded.
Tommy scrambled inwardly. He felt adrift. He had no idea why the prosecution would call Fenelli, especially knowing what the medic would say about the nature of the wounds suffered by Trader Vic and the type of weapon that inflicted them. But something was deadly and wrong, and Tommy fought against the unknown.
'It is true that I interviewed Lieutenant Fenelli. It is true that I considered calling him…'
'Then I fail to see how you can object, lieutenant,' MacNamara said stiffly.
'Sir, it remains true he is not on the prosecution's list! This fact alone should preclude him from taking the stand.'
'We just went over this issue with Major Clark, lieutenant!
Because of our unusual circumstances here, the court feels it critical to allow both sides some substantial leeway, while still maintaining the important integrity of the process.'
'This is unfair, sir!'
'I think not, lieutenant. Mr. Fenelli, please take your seat!
Captain Townsend, please continue!'
For an instant, Tommy swayed dizzily. Then he slumped back into his own chair. He didn't dare look to the side at Lincoln Scott or Hugh Renaday, though he could hear the Canadian muttering obscenities.
Scott, however, sat stock-still, with both of his palms down on the table, the veins in the backs of his hands standing out rigidly.
Chapter Fourteen
Second Lieutenant Nicholas Fenelli sat uncomfortably on the witness chair, shifting once or twice as he searched for a more accommodating position, and finally leaning forward slightly, placing his hands on top of each of his thighs, as if to steady himself. He did not look over at Tommy Hart, Lincoln Scott, or Hugh Renaday, who wore a look on his face of distinctly murderous fury. Instead, he kept his eyes on Captain Townsend, who maneuvered his own body between Fenelli and the defense as best he could.
'Now, lieutenant,' Townsend began slowly, his voice as soft yet cajoling as a teacher trying to prompt some brilliant but shy student, 'please tell all of us assembled here how it is that you came to acquire some special expertise in the handling of murder victims.'
Fenelli nodded and launched into the story he'd already told Tommy and Hugh, about working in his uncle's mortuary in Cleveland prior to attending medical school. He spoke without the brashness or the bravado that he'd displayed when Tommy first interviewed him. Now he was direct, modest, but complete, and certainly lacking any of the orneriness he'd shown before.
'Very good,' Townsend said, calmly absorbing Fenelli's words.
'Now, tell the court how it was that you came to examine the deceased man's remains.'
Fenelli nodded.
'It was my job to prepare Captain Bedford's body for burial, sir. I have performed this task on several other unhappy occasions. It was while doing my job that I took note of the wounds on his body.'
Again, Townsend nodded slowly. Tommy sat quietly in his seat, noting that Townsend didn't ask anything about the order Clark gave Fenelli not to examine the body. But so far, Fenelli had not departed from anything Tommy had expected.
That wasn't to last.
'Now, did there come a time when Mr. Hart approached you, with pictures of the crime
