makes this job more than what’s in the manual. Do you want to become like Karl Hellmann?”
I forced a smile. “Sometimes, yes.”
“Then you’ll never again be able to determine a motive or understand who is good and who is evil.”
“Sounds okay to me.”
“Don’t be contrary.”
“Speaking of motives, of good and evil, of passion, jealousy, and hate, let’s give this stuff a quick read.”
We read for a while and discovered what William Kent’s sexual preferences were, but more important, I discovered that Ann Campbell considered him a growing problem. I said to Cynthia, “Here’s an entry from last month.” I read aloud, “ ‘Bill is becoming possessive again. I thought we solved that problem. He showed up here tonight when Ted Bowes was here. Ted and I hadn’t gone downstairs yet, and Bill and he had a drink in the living room, and Bill was nasty to him and pulled rank on him. Finally, Ted left, and Bill and I had words. He says he’s prepared to leave his wife and resign his commission if I promise to live with him or marry him or something. He knows why I do what I do with him and the other men, but he’s starting to think there’s more to it with us. He’s pressing me, and I tell him to stop. Tonight, he doesn’t even want sex. He just wants to talk. I let him talk, but I don’t like what he’s saying. Why do some men think they have to be knights in shining armor? I don’t need a knight. I am my own knight, I am my own dragon, and I live in my own castle. Everyone else are props and bit players. Bill is not very cognitive. He doesn’t understand, so I don’t try to explain. I did tell him I’d consider his offer, but in the meantime, would he only come here with an appointment? This put him into a rage, and he actually slapped me, then ripped off my clothes and raped me on the living room floor. When he was done, he seemed to feel better, then left in a sulk. I realize he could be dangerous, but I don’t care, and, in fact, of all of them, he’s the only one except for Wes who has actually threatened me or hit me, and it’s the only thing that makes Bill Kent interesting.’ ”
I looked up from the paper, and Cynthia and I exchanged glances. Clearly, Colonel Kent was dangerous. There’s nothing more dangerous than a prim and proper stuffed shirt who falls in lust and gets obsessed. I was about to read another printout aloud when there was a knock on the door, and it opened. I expected to see Warrant Officer Kiefer, but it was Colonel Kent, and I wondered how long he’d been standing there.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
I gathered up the printouts and slipped them in a folder. Kent stood there and watched but said nothing.
Kent had his helmet on, what we call cover in the military. You’re usually uncovered indoors, unless you’re armed, then you must be covered. Interesting regulation probably having to do with keeping your hands free if you’re armed, or letting people know at a distance that you’re armed. Kent, in fact, was wearing his sidearm.
So was I, and so was Cynthia, but ours were hidden, and we didn’t have to wear hats to give us away.
The office was dark, lit only by two desk lamps, and I could hardly see Kent’s features from where I was sitting, but I thought he looked sort of grim, perhaps subdued, and I remembered that he’d gone to the chapel to view the body.
He spoke in a quiet, almost toneless voice. He said, “Why was Specialist Baker snooping around?”
I stood and replied, “She’s not snooping around. She’s gathering some items that I asked for.”
“This is my command. Anything you need, you ask me.”
Quite right, actually. Except, in this case, the items had to do with the commander. I said, “It was just a minor administrative thing, Colonel.”
“Nothing in this building is minor.”
“Well, parking and traffic tickets are minor.”
“Why do you need those?”
“It’s a standard procedure. You must know that it’s to establish if any vehicles were anyplace that—”
“I know that. And you wanted MP patrol reports, the desk sergeant’s log, and tapes of the radio transmissions for that night. Are you looking for any vehicle in particular?”
Actually, yes. Your vehicle. But I replied, “No. Where is Baker?”
“I relieved her of her duties and ordered her out of the building.”
“I see. Well, I’m going to ask you, officially, to rescind that order.”
“I’ve assigned you another clerk. I will not tolerate any breach of internal security by anyone, for any reason. You have broken the rules, and perhaps the law. I’ll take this up with the staff judge advocate tomorrow.”
“That’s certainly your right, Colonel. Though I think Colonel Weems has other things on his mind at the moment.”
Kent seemed to know what I was talking about and replied, “The Uniform Code of Military Justice is not dependent on any single individual, and everyone here is subject to that law, including both of you.”
“That’s very true. I take full responsibility for what Baker did.”
Cynthia stood now and said, “It’s actually my responsibility, Colonel. I ordered Baker to do that.”
Kent looked at her and replied, “All you had to do was ask me first.”
“Yes, sir.”
Having taken the offensive, Kent continued his attack, though he seemed to have no enthusiasm for it. He said to me, “I didn’t say anything when you had Colonel Moore confined to jail, but I will make an official report regarding your treatment of him. You don’t treat officers that way.” Obviously, Kent was thinking into the future, and his complaint had nothing to do with Colonel Moore.
I replied, “Officers don’t usually act that way. He abused his rank, his profession, and his office.”
“Nevertheless, he could have been restricted to post and given suitable quarters until an official inquiry was completed, and charges recommended or not recommended.”
“You know, Colonel, I personally think that the higher you are, the harder you should fall. Young enlisted personnel who screw up because of ignorance, immaturity, or high spirits get the book thrown at them. I think that mature officers who screw up should be made an example of.”
“But rank still has its privilege, and one of those privileges is that an officer should not be subject to pretrial confinement, Mister Brenner.”
“But when you break the law, your punishment should be in direct proportion to your rank, your job, and your knowledge of the law. An officer’s rights and privileges carry a heavy responsibility, and any breach of duty and discipline should carry a proportionately heavy punitive burden.”
He replied, “A soldier’s past performance has to be factored into that. If a person has performed honorably for twenty years—as Colonel Moore has—then he should be treated with honor and respect. A court-martial will decide his punishment, if any.”
I looked at Kent for a long moment, then responded, “An officer, I believe, having been given special privileges and having taken an oath of office, has an obligation to fully confess his crimes and to relieve a court- martial board of the unpleasant duty of convening for a public trial. In fact, I sort of like the ancient tradition of an officer falling on his sword. But since no one has the balls for that anymore, I think that an officer who has committed a capital crime or has dishonored himself and his uniform should at least consider blowing his brains out.”
Kent replied, “I think you’re crazy.”
“Probably. Maybe I should talk to a shrink. Charlie Moore could square me away. You’ll be happy to know that I’ve signed a release order for him, and he should be gone by now, probably riding around looking for a place to sleep tonight. You should try the Psy-Ops School officers’ quarters if you want to find him. He thinks, by the way, that the general murdered his own daughter. I know the general didn’t. So whoever did murder her will have to decide if he is going to let Moore tell the FBI what he suspects, and allow that suspicion to hang over the head of a basically honorable man. Or will this person who committed the crime redeem his honor and confess?”
Kent and I looked at each other, then Kent said, “I think whoever killed her didn’t think it was a crime. You like to talk about honor, ancient customs, and the rights and duties of an officer. Well, I’ll bet that the murderer feels no reason to bother the military justice system with this act of. . . of personal justice and honor. There’s your
