“So Perrite and Machusco were reporting heavy Serb activity in your sector?”
“Yeah. We figured that after Akhan’s raid the Serbs must’ve guessed there was a base camp that Akhan’s company was operating from, so they were out looking for it.”
“Hadn’t you already moved base camps, though?”
“Yeah, but not far. We was still in the same sector.”
“What kind of activity did Perrite and Machusco report?”
“They saw some patrols, and they heard heavy vehicle activity on some roads nearby.”
“Then, on the morning of the seventeenth, they spotted the Serb recon unit that was supposedly surveilling your base camp?”
“That’s right. Only it wasn’t supposedly.”
“How do you know that, Chief? You didn’t observe the activity yourself, did you?”
“No, but Perrite and Machusco don’t fuck up. If Perrite tol’ me we was being observed, we was being observed.”
“Why did Perrite report that to you, Chief? Why didn’t he tell Captain Sanchez?”
“I ain’t got a clue.”
“Then you gave the order for the team to move out?”
“That’s right,” he replied, in the process making another telling mistake. If Sanchez had been in charge, he would’ve given the order.
“Then you moved throughout the day, until around midnight, when you formed a perimeter and decided to ambush a Serb column.”
“We’ve already been through all this shit, haven’t we? My testimony ain’t gonna change.”
I ignored him again. “One last series of questions and we’re done with this session.”
“Okay,” he said, digging out yet another cigarette. He was smoking them hard and fast. A small cloud of pale blue smoke actually hung on the ceiling over his head.
“The other members all testified that you were in charge at the scene of the ambush itself. You were the one who positioned them, who checked their aiming stakes, who directed the lay and wiring of the claymores. You gave the order to fire. You gave the order to cease fire. I find that very intriguing. You told me yourself that Sanchez was the operational leader.”
He appeared confused as he tried to think up a response. His eyes roved quickly across the floor.
Then he said, “Sanchez wasn’t feeling all that well. He hadn’t got any sleep for two days, so I offered to help him out.”
I almost smiled. “That was very good of you,” I said. Even better was that he just gave us the hook we needed. I turned to Morrow, and she nodded. She had picked up on it, too.
“Thank you, Chief,” I said. “We’ll call you to testify again, maybe later this evening, maybe tomorrow morning. I strongly advise you to have an attorney present at our next session.”
He planted his elbows on his knees and worked up a very convincing petulant expression. “When we gonna get done with this crap? I spent over two weeks in this shithole and I wanta get out. You’ve questioned me twice already.”
I said, “When you stop lying to us. By tomorrow morning we’ll have the whole truth. One way or another.”
The petulance receded into a bland look. He stood up and started to walk out.
“By the way,” I said, and he turned around to face me. “The deal you had with Tretorne and Murphy is off. I have full authority to recommend whatever I want, and I intend to use it.”
He turned back around and kept walking. It was in his eyes, though. He’d just heard the sounds of the walls crumbling down around him.
Chapter 30
Sergeant First Class Francois Perrite,” Imelda announced with great formality and astoundingly clear enunciation. Morrow’s head reeled back in surprise. Imelda could speak like the Queen of England herself when she had a mind to.
Perrite had the same cocky, self-assured walk I remembered from before. And again I also noticed how soundlessly he moved, how catlike, as though there were a blanket of air under his feet.
It was my idea to do Perrite next. He was the hothead of the team. He had also been at the center of nearly everything that happened. More important, though, he was very clearly Chief Persico’s boy. There was a powerful bond between them, and I judged that to be as much of a strength as it was a possible vulnerability.
I indicated for him to take the same seat Persico had vacated only thirty minutes before. I repeated the explanation of our purpose and invited him to smoke if he so desired. He did so desire and quickly pulled from his pocket a pack of Camels, unfiltered. Among other loyalties, he and Persico preferred the same brand. Smoking buddies.
I stared down at some papers in front of me till he had a cigarette lit and was seated in a relaxed posture. He wore an amused smirk, as though we were all gathered here for his entertainment.
I looked up. “Sergeant Perrite, we’ve already determined that you and other members of this team have perjured yourselves. We know Captain Sanchez supported Captain Akhan’s desire to raid the Piluca station. We know that, afterward, there was a general loss of confidence in his abilities, and Chief Persico virtually took charge of your team. We know your location was never detected by the Serbs. We also know the ambush was not an act of self-defense. It was a deliberate act of retribution.”
We didn’t actually know those last two points, and we only suspected some of the former, but I thought I’d just toss it all into the cauldron and see what came out. He didn’t contradict me, either. Instead he stared up at me, scratched his face, then smiled. “Then what the hell do you need me for?”
“We need to question you about your role in these events.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Start with when you and Machusco went into Piluca on the morning of the fourteenth. What did you encounter?”
He bent over and used his right hand to stub out his cigarette on the floor next to the three butts Persico had left behind. Perrite had barely smoked it a quarter of the way, so I guessed his real purpose was to bend over and inspect the brand of the crushed butts lying around his chair. Real recon men are curious that way.
When he came back up he said, “Fuck you. I got no reason to answer your questions.”
“But you do,” I said. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-three.”
“Have you spoken with a defense counsel yet?”
“Sure. Some fatassed bitch stopped by. I tol’ her to get lost. Like I tol’ you before, I don’t like lawyers. They give me hives.”
“I hope, before she left, she had enough time to explain that once you’ve been charged with a single court- martial offense, I can add as many charges as I deem fit. The judge at your court-martial will instruct the board to consider each individual charge separately. You understand what that means?”
“No.”
Very matter-of-factly, I said, “It means that every charge receives its own punishment. Sentences accrue. Even if you’re found entirely innocent of everything that happened in Kosovo, the additional charges I might bring against you-for refusing an order, for disrespect, for obstructing justice, for perjury-will all be weighed and sentenced separately. Is all this clear to you now?”
He nodded. It was a flinty, reluctant nod, but it was a nod.
“See, Sergeant, you’re here to bargain years of your life with me. Get your head out of your ass. Think about whether you want to spend your entire middle age watching the world through iron bars.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied in a way that made “sir” sound like something that needed to be flushed down a toilet, but nonetheless indicated he now knew the stakes.
I said, “Now, again, what exactly did you encounter when you and Machusco entered Piluca?”
