‘You’re right on time, Don. Two minutes early. How are you?’
‘Fine.’ The boy’s fingers fidgeted round his acned neck; he was paler than Murray had seen him before. ‘You got your photographers?’
Murray beckoned to Ryderbeit and Jones. ‘This is Mister Rogers, Don — Mister Jones. May we sit down?’
‘Sure. Coffee?’ Wace flicked his fingers at the Vietnamese girl behind the counter, his eyes straying dubiously over No-Entry who merely nodded, grave and untroubled. ‘Well, Murray, you sure chose one helluva night!’ he added, sitting down too.
Murray stared at him blankly.
‘Yeah, there’s somethin’ of a razzmatazz on tonight, sirs — I mean, we got some kinda big bustle on the field.’
Murray’s elbow was pushed across the table, his eyes hard on the young sergeant’s. ‘What kind of razzmatazz, Don?’
Wace gave a lopsided grin. ‘Pretty big, by all I hear. Doubled security on the perimeter — whole company of Arvins posted in case there’s a breakthrough. And all us M.P.’s on special alert.’
‘Should make a good story,’ Murray smiled. ‘Especially if there is a breakthrough.’
Wace’s Adam’s apple jumped in his throat. ‘I sure hope not, Murray! You oughta see this airfield during a real alert — during that Tet offensive. We got every pant-wettin’ recruit on the field gettin’ so goddam scared they was shootin’ up us M.P.’s — shootin’ anythin’ they saw move!’
‘You mean we might be in danger going out with you tonight?’ Murray said, smiling; but Wace’s eyes turned down and searched deep in his coffee cup.
‘They got a lot of M.P.’s out tonight, Murray. And without special clearance — I mean, I don’t want us gettin’ pulled in by some big brass-hat for photographin’ military installations or anything.’
‘Don.’ Murray spoke very low. ‘We made a deal. Remember?’
‘Sure, sure!’ Wace nodded vigorously. ‘I’m not wantin’ to be obstructive or anythin’, Murray. It’s just that I don’t like us to be out there too long.’
‘You don’t have to come at all,’ Murray said softly. ‘We’ll do a quick tour of the perimeter — just the three of us — and be back here within the hour. O.K.?’
Wace gaped at him, his mouth open. ‘Hey, I can’t do that, Murray! That’d be crazy!’
Murray nodded. ‘Where’s the jeep?’
‘Parked outside the guardroom.’
‘And the ignition keys?’
‘I left ’em in,’ he murmured.
‘Fine.’ Murray smiled and stood up. ‘We’re wasting time, Don. Rogers, Jones — let’s go through and get the equipment. Lead the way, sergeant.’
Wace struggled to his feet, leaving some Scrip money for the coffees. ‘You’ll get me thrown in the stockade, Murray!’ he whimpered, leading the way out into a bare corridor of weatherboard, stopping at the last door at the end. The room was empty, lined with steel lockers; on the wall, crude familiar drawings of uniforms and weapons: KNOW YOUR ENEMY — VIGILANCE IS THE PRICE OF DEMOCRACY. And a desk with a telephone.
Wace went hesitatingly over to one of the lockers and took out three M.P. helmets; then moved to another and brought out three M16 carbines. ‘O.K., I guess we better get movin’.’ He paused, looking at Ryderbeit and Jones. ‘You boys got no cameras?’ he asked suddenly.
No-Entry nodded impassively. ‘We got them small Japanese jobs, sergeant. Can’t go flashing a lot of equipment around if we’re supposed to be genuine M.P.’s now, can we?’ Ryderbeit and Murray were already fitting on their helmets, slinging the M16’s over their shoulders.
Wace started towards the door, not looking at all happy. Suddenly Murray barred his way, his heart beating fast. ‘Just a moment, Don. You’re staying here. Till we come back.’
Wace opened his mouth and shut it again. His eyes were beginning to register fear. He looked quickly at Ryderbeit and No-Entry, then at the door. ‘Lemme outta here!’ he cried, and his hands brought up the M16, pointing it at Murray’s belly.
‘You’re forgetting something, sergeant.’ Murray took a step forward. ‘Two days ago you accepted a couple of illegal greens. Big ones. Big enough to get you six months in the stockade, Don.’
‘You can’t prove that!’
‘I may not be able to prove it — but I can still report it. I’ll tell them you agreed to take me on an unofficial ride round the perimeter in your jeep in exchange for one hundred dollars in cash — then at the last moment you chickened out. They can’t throw me in the stockade, Don. They can’t do a damned thing to me. Anyway, why would they think I’d make up a crazy story like that?’
Wace’s lip began to tremble. The muzzle of his M16 had dropped several inches. ‘Just for a lousy hundred bucks!’ he cried, and for a moment Murray thought he was going to weep.
‘Here’s your five grand.’ Murray brought out a fat roll of Pol’s fifty dollar bills from his tunic pocket and tossed them down at Wace’s feet. ‘Now pick those up and get out — before one of your brass-hats walks in and nabs you red-handed.’
Wace stood looking goggle-eyed at the tight little roll of notes slowly uncurling themselves on the floor. Then suddenly he bent double and grabbed them up, pushing them deep into his back ammunition pocket. ‘If one o’ you bastards breathes a word o’ this,’ he blurted, ‘I’ll blow his head off, so help me God!’
‘Forget you ever saw us, sergeant. Now put that money in a safe place and get lost!’
The door slammed and Wace was gone. Murray looked at his watch: 10.34. ‘Six minutes to go,’ he said, glancing at the telephone.
‘You think that sap’ll go running to the nearest M.P.’s?’ said Ryderbeit.
‘I don’t think so. Not right
