reading glasses slid down on his nose.
He had a tin plate of half-eaten ubiquitous kriegie stew on the blanket beside him, and a dog-eared copy of Dickens's Great Expectations open in his hand. Tommy recognized this combination instantly. Standard kriegie approach to eating: take a bite, chew slowly, read a paragraph or two, take another bite.
Sometimes it seemed that Time was as much their enemy as the Germans.
MacNamara slowly lowered the novel, eyeing the two visitors with interest, as they took several quick steps into the center of the small room, and fixed themselves at attention.
The Senior American Officer had, by virtue of rank, acquired one of the rare two-person bunk rooms. But Major Clark, his roommate, was oddly absent. Tommy had the presence of mind to glance around, thinking maybe there would be some picture on the wall or souvenir propped in the corner that might tell him something about the SAO's personality that he could later use. But there was nothing that revealed anything.
'Lieutenants…' MacNamara said as he touched his forehead with a return salute.
'Please, stand at ease. Why are you here?'
'Sir. We wish to report a theft, sir,' Tommy answered sharply.
'A theft?'
'Correct.'
'Please continue.'
'A key piece of evidence acquired by myself, which I planned to introduce at trial tomorrow, was removed from Mr. Scott's quarters. We suspect this theft took place during the time he was confronting the men in front of Hut 101. Sir, we protest this action in the most vigorous way!'
'Evidence, you say. What sort of evidence?'
Tommy hesitated, and the SAO quickly added, 'There's no one from the other side here, Mr. Hart. And I will keep whatever information you provide me in strictest confidence.'
'I'm certain you will, sir,' Tommy said, but did not believe it for an instant. He didn't dare to throw a glance at Lincoln Scott.
'Good.' MacNamara's voice had a firmness to it that could have concealed irritation, but Tommy was unsure.
'I ask again: What sort of evidence?'
'It was a wooden board, sir. Ripped from the side of a building.
There were clear traces of Trader Vic's blood marking it.
Spatter traces, I believe they're called by professionals.'
MacNamara started to open his mouth, then stopped. He swung his feet off the bed, staring down for a second at his wriggling toes concealed by threadbare socks. Then he sat up more sharply, as if paying closer attention.
'A wooden board, you say? A bloodstained wooden board?'
'Correct, sir.'
'How can you be certain it was Captain Bedford's blood?'
'I can arrive at no other reasonable conclusion, sir. Nobody else has bled that substantially.'
'True enough. And this board proved what? In your own estimation?'
Tommy hesitated, before replying: 'A key element of the defense, sir.
It relates to where Trader Vic was actually murdered and attacks the prosecution's perception of the crime.'
'It came from the Abort?'
'I didn't say that, sir.'
'It came from some other location?'
'Yes sir.'
'And you believe this shows what?'
'Sir, if we can show that the crime took place in some different spot, then it calls into serious question the entirety of the prosecution's case. They claim that Mr. Scott followed Captain Bedford out of Hut 101 and that the subsequent confrontation and fight took place between the buildings, by the Abort. Evidence that suggests a different scenario supports Lieutenant Scott's denials, sir.'
MacNamara again paused, measuring his words carefully.
'What you contend is accurate, lieutenant. And now this item is gone?'
Before Tommy could reply, Scott burst out: 'Yes sir! Stolen from my room. Lifted, robbed, filched, pilfered, poached, or purloined!
Whatever word you want, sir. Right when my back was ever so goddamn conveniently turned!'
'Watch your language, lieutenant.'
Scott stared hard at the Senior American Officer. Then he slowly spat out his next words.
'All right, colonel. I'll watch my language. I would certainly hate to go to a firing squad with an excess goddamn on my lips. It might offend someone's delicate sensibilities.'
MacNamara did not so much glare at Scott as he did shrug with a sort of acceptance of the black flier's fury, as if Scott's outrage was oddly unimportant. Tommy took note of this silently, and then stepped slightly forward, emphasizing his words with sharp hand gestures.
'Sir, you will recall that in some regards it was Trader Vic's accusation that Lieutenant Scott stole something from him that triggered all this. Certainly much of the animosity stemmed from that incident. And now, it is Lieutenant Scott who has been victimized, and what has disappeared is far more critical than any wartime souvenir, pack of smokes, or chocolate bar!'
MacNamara held up his hand. He nodded his head slowly.
'I am aware. What is it you want me to do?'
Tommy smiled.
'At a minimum, sir, I would think we should question every member of the prosecution under oath.
They are, after all, the ones who benefit from this illegal action.
I would think that we should further question every witness for the prosecution, because many of those men seem to carry the same animosity toward Lieutenant Scott that Captain Bedford did. We should also question some of the men who have been most overt in their threats toward Lieutenant Scott. And I would think that we should delay tomorrow's proceedings substantially. Furthermore, I would think that this theft of key evidence would underscore Scott's presumption of innocence. In many regards, the theft is de facto evidence of his total innocence! It is certainly equally likely that the board was stolen by the actual murderer! I would argue that you should immediately dismiss the accusation against Lieutenant Scott.'
'Absolutely not!'
'Sir! The defense has been crippled by the illegal and immoral actions of others, right here inside the camp! That suggests ' 'I can see what it suggests, lieutenant! But it proves nothing. And there is no proof that this evidence actually existed or would have achieved the dramatic results you claim.'
'Sir! You have the word of honor of two officers!'
'Yes, but beyond that ' 'What?' Scott interrupted.
'Is our word less substantial?
Less important? Less truthful? It somehow doesn't count for the same?
Maybe you think mine is less valuable. But Hart's word of honor is the same color as yours or Major Clark's or anyone else's in Stalag Luft Thirteen!'
'I didn't say that, lieutenant. It is none of those things. But it does lack corroboration.' MacNamara spoke softly. Almost as if he were trying to be conciliatory.
'Other officers saw me obtain the board, 'Tommy interjected.
'Who? Why are they not with you, now?'
Tommy instantly envisioned Trader Vic's roommates and the members of the jazz band that had confronted him in the corridor of Hut 101. He thought they were probably the men who had stolen the board.
