Two Songs This Archangel Sings

Garth cocked his head to one side and scratched behind his left ear-a sign I was being less than convincing. 'Four years in the jungles of Laos is a long time, brother, especially in view of the fact that the average tour of duty for officers in Viet Nam was one year.

Maybe Kendry's tour was simply up; it was time to give him a rest, whether he wanted it or not.'

'There was nothing average about Veil, or his assignment. Besides, if it were just a matter of Veil's tour being over, he almost certainly would have been back in the United States six to eight weeks later, not wandering the streets of Saigon in the middle of the night. But he was in Saigon-and he may have had something very heavy on his mind.

'After rescuing the Hmong children and cleaning out the brothel, he probably went to see the big honcho who'd reassigned him and put Po in his place. He probably found out about the impending commando attack from this man, and may or may not have physically fought him. He most certainly did fly into Laos to warn the village and ended up shooting at his own countrymen. His helicopter was shot down, but he survived the crash. He must have made it through the jungle back to Viet Nam, where he either turned himself in or was captured. A relatively short time later he was a civilian, newly arrived in New York City.'

Garth rose from the table, took the coffeepot off the stove, and refilled both our cups. He took his cup to the window, where he stared out into another wet, gray winter day. 'The last part doesn't make any sense at all,' he said quietly.

'Indeed.'

'So we get to what we don't know. We don't know why he was abruptly yanked out of Laos; we don't know where he was or what he was doing for six to eight weeks afterward; we don't know who he went to see after dropping off the children-if he went to see anyone; we don't know why the military simply cut him loose instead of throwing him in prison or shooting him. Finally, we don't know why some very heavy people who were probably involved in those incidents and decisions decided to come after him now, a lot of years after the fact.'

'If we could find out the name of the officer who came in the helicopter, or that of the man in the green raincoat, we could probably get all of the information we want, without having to try to play footsie with Po.'

'We may have one of the names.'

'Oh?'

'Hey, I haven't exactly been sitting on my ass while you were away. Hang on a minute.' Garth went into the other room, and I heard a drawer in his desk in the den open and close. He reappeared holding a thin manila file folder, which he tossed on the table in front of me. 'Check out this masterpiece. It came through yesterday.'

I opened the file, found myself looking at an official, stamped photostat of Veil Kendry's service record. It consisted of two pages, and took me less than a minute to read. 'It's bullshit,' I said, closing the file and pushing it away from me.

'Sure,' Garth replied evenly. 'But the fact that the Pentagon would go to so much trouble not only to expunge facts, but to create new ones, makes it interesting bullshit.'

'I love it. The army claims Veil was a supply clerk in Saigon from 'sixty-four to 'sixty-nine, and never saw combat. Highest rank: corporal. Committed to a mental hospital for four years, diagnosed by the military shrinks as a paranoid schizophrenic with a borderline personality. Finally discharged in 'seventy-three as stabilized with chemotherapy, but still hopelessly psychotic. This is what would have surfaced if Veil had tried to go public with whatever it is he knows.'

'Right,' Garth said curtly. 'Jesus, Mongo, that's an official photostat, and the damn thing's a phony. A lot of high-ranking people conspired to break a lot of laws in order to produce that thing.'

'And Veil went along because that was the price for his life and freedom. Now somebody wants to cancel that contract.' I retrieved the file, glanced again at the last page. 'Here's the name you mentioned: General Robert Warren is listed as Veil's C.O. He signed the discharge papers. You think he's real?'

'He's dead. He was killed in an automobile accident in Saigon three days after those papers were signed. I double-checked it.'

'They could have picked the name of somebody they knew was dead, forged it on the paper.'

'It's possible,' Garth said with a shrug. 'We have no way of knowing.'

'Po would know. What about the personal data on Veil? Did you check that?'

'I did, and that much is accurate. He did grow up in Colletville. I called the high school; he went there, and he came up through the school system.'

'What about the home address?'

'Accurate. The problem is that the Kendrys moved away ten years ago, forwarding address unknown. The people living there now don't know anything about them.'

'Where the hell is Colletville?'

'It's a farming community in a depressed economic area about a hundred and thirty-five miles northwest of here, in the Catskills.'

'If those are the only accurate things in this record, it's probably because the people who phonied up everything else considered the information useless. Veil didn't go home when he left the service, he came to New York. He probably doesn't have anyone, friends or relatives, left there.'

'Arguable. He lived there a long time. What about the times when he dropped out of sight for two or three weeks at a clip? He could have gone back home then.'

'Maybe, maybe not. If the Pentagon doesn't care if people know where he grew up, it probably means there's nothing there worth finding out. Besides, why clump around up in the Catskills when we have Colonel Po? I say we go to Albany first and save Colletville for another day. If Po will talk, we probably won't have to go anywhere else.'

Garth stared into the bottom of his coffee cup while he thought about it. 'All right,' he said at last. 'But hold off for a while.'

'Why wait?'

'To give me time to check out some things and talk to a few people. We know the Albany cops and State Police are on Po's ass, so let me find out what stage their investigation is in now. It's just possible that the Albany D.A. or the state cops will give us a bone or two to throw to Po in exchange for him giving us the information we want. Po isn't going to give us anything for free. On the other hand, what happened in Viet Nam and Laos was a long time ago, and doesn't have anything to do with his current problems. He'll probably be more than happy to talk to us if we can offer him, say, a reduced charge or two. At the least, we'll be showing the authorities upstate that we're properly humble where their jurisdiction is concerned, and I should be able to get a good line on Po's operations. Without some kind of leverage to use on him, we'll be wasting our time and gas going up there.'

'Okay. I've got some things to do, anyway. How long do you think all this humble maneuvering is going to take you?'

'It depends on who's available to talk to me, and how much negotiating I have to do. Maybe two or three days.'

'Two or three days?! You've got to be kidding me!'

'Don't be so Goddamn impatient. These things take time.' Garth paused, narrowed his eyes. 'Just what 'things' do you have to do?'

'Just minor errands.'

'With you, a 'minor errand' is likely as not to end with you hanging by your heels from the top of the Empire State Building. I hate to let you out of my sight, brother. Tell me what you're going to do.'

'First, Mother, I'm going to use your phone to take care of some personal matters. Then I'm going downtown to the Federal Building.'

'Why the hell are you going to the Federal Building?'

'I'm going to file a request under the Freedom of Information Act for any and all information concerning Colonel Veil Kendry, code name Archangel, specifically the nature of his assignments for the United States Army and the Central Intelligence Agency during the time he was in Southeast Asia.'

Garth winced. 'I don't like it, Mongo. It could get you in trouble.'

'You're making a joke, right?'

'Why bother? Do you seriously think the people in Washington are going to give you anything that contradicts the service record they manufactured? Freedom of Information Act or not, you'll get diddly-squat.'