martial will come to me. Then I’ll have to decide which way to go.”
“That is the correct protocol, sir.”
“And you and I both know that if I say anything to you, even a whisper, that indicates anything but a neutral predisposition on my part, I can be accused of exerting command influence into a legal proceeding. That, we both know, would get all our butts in a wringer.”
“That is a proper reading of military law, sir.”
“I know that, Drummond. And I’d be damned appreciative if you’d withhold the commentary,” he barked.
“Of course, sir.”
“So the reason I had you fly down here,” he said, pointing toward a tiny tape recorder on the corner of his desk, “is to ask you two questions.”
“Fire away, sir.”
“Do you believe that I, or anyone in your chain of command, has a predisposition, or have any of us, in any way, tried to influence you, prior to the start of your investigation?”
“No and no, sir.”
“Do you believe you are being given adequate resources to perform your duties?”
“I have ample resources, sir.”
“Then this interview is hereby terminated,” he said, reaching down and turning off the tape recorder.
My right hand was just coming back up to my forehead when those thin lips bristled with another nasty little smile.
“Now, Drummond, since we have all that recorded for posterity, it’s time for some real guidance.”
“I am all ears, sir.”
“This case is an embarrassment for the Army, and it will only get worse. But there are several types of embarrassment. There’s the kind where some soldiers did a bad thing and the public wonders just what this barbaric Army did to these fine young boys to transform them into such awful monsters. Then there’s the kind where the Army gets accused of covering up, and that is the worst kind, since it brings in lots of hungry politicians who are eager to help us sort fact from fiction. Finally, there’s the kind where everyone believes that the Army is just too damned ignorant and heavy-handed to handle such delicate situations.”
“Sounds accurate to me, sir. From my limited experience, of course.”
His eyes fixed my eyes with an uncompromising stare. “This time it’s gonna be up to you to decide which of those embarrassments we have on our hands. Don’t be naive and think there’s any way you can win. Got my drift?”
I certainly did get his drift, although I was just naive and arrogant enough to believe I could pull this out and walk off into the sunset looking good. That wasn’t something I was going to admit to him, but that’s what was on my mind. Shows how stupid some guys can be. Him, that is, not me.
“I believe I have a firm grasp of the situation, General.”
“Well, you’re wrong, Drummond. You think you do, but you really don’t.”
“Begging the general’s pardon, but is there a point to this?”
The general’s eyes blinked a few times, and I was instantly reminded of a lizard contemplating a fly and considering whether to lash out with his long tongue and have himself a happy meal with wings. Then he smiled, and I’d be lying if I said it was a friendly smile.
“All right, Drummond, you’re on your own.”
Now, the general might’ve thought he was making some kind of theatrical point here, but the truth is, he was the fifth high-ranking official in three days to use one of those damned tape recorders as he offered me a little on- and off-the-record guidance. I was actually getting pretty used to watching these guys cover their asses and prod me along my way.
In the old Army, a man who was about to be executed was marched down a line of his peers and a slow drumroll was sounded to accompany him to the gallows. The modern version of this death march, I was learning, was to stand in front of a bunch of powerful desks listening to lots of windy lectures, all timed to the beat of tape recorders being flicked on and off.
Chapter 2
As a burly Air Force tech sergeant ushered me through the aircraft doorway, I immediately spotted Captain James Delbert and Captain Lisa Morrow waiting for me in the cavernous rear of the lumbering C-130. The first thing I noticed, though, was that the C-130, which is a cargo plane, was indeed packed to the gills with cargo. So much for my putative sense of importance. It was worse than that, though. The aircraft was stuffed with feminine hygiene products in OD green boxes.
A thousand wicked wisecracks crossed my mind, and maybe if Captain Morrow had been a he, instead of a she, I might have let loose. But fifteen years of ingrained sensitivity training stilled my tongue. It’s dicey to tell a risque joke in front of any female soldier. It’s often suicidal in the presence of a female lawyer.
The second thing I noticed was that both Delbert and Morrow had sour faces. Whether that was because of me or the accommodations, or the fact that, without warning, they’d both been ordered to drop everything and meet me on this airplane was as yet unclear.
Neither had been told why they had to be here, but both were ridiculously clever and probably had some strong suspicions. For three days, headlines and talk shows around the world had focused on nothing but this case. It wasn’t hard to deduce that a gathering of the Army’s top lawyers on an airplane headed to Europe had something to do with the massacre. They both stood as I worked my way past four massive cartons marked TAMPON, 1 EACH.
“Delbert, Morrow, good to meet you,” I said, thrusting my hand forward and awarding them my most winsome smile.
“Good to meet you, too,” said Delbert, a fine-looking soldier, who smiled even more winsomely as he pumped hands with holy fury.
“No it’s not,” complained Morrow, whose sourpuss gained a few more creases.
“You’re not happy to be here?” I asked.
“Not in the least. I was right in the middle of an armed theft trial that has now had to be declared a mistrial.”
“Were you going to win?”
“Absolutely.”
“Bullshit,” I told her.
“What do you know about it?” she asked, becoming instantly suspicious.
“I know your client was charged with two counts of breaking and entering and one count of armed theft. The breaking and enterings you might’ve managed, but the armed theft? Seven witnesses identified him, the MPs had the weapon he used, his fingerprints were all over it, and he confessed right after he was picked up. Your client should’ve stuck to second-story jobs. He was a complete klutz as a holdup guy.”
“You checked into my case?” she asked, and it was hard to tell if that made her angry or surprised.
“Sure.”
“And you second-guessed me?”
“No. The trial judge, Colonel Tompson, he second-guessed you. He said you were doing a masterful job. He also said it was hopeless. His exact words were that you were ‘doing a very stylish breaststroke in quicksand.’”
“So you knew you were pulling me away from my client?” she demanded, nodding her head to punctuate each word.
And in that instant it was easy to understand why this woman was such a successful attorney. She played for keeps. After eight years of trying cases, she still took it personally. She wasn’t hardened or cynical, not one bit.
“That’s exactly what I did,” I told her. “I pulled you out of a trial that concerned one soldier and his pissant
