Word of Honor (16 page)

Lorraine Con-

120 & NELSON DEMILLE

nelly could see in the dim light that the General seemed to respond positively to these military buzz words. Taking heart, she continued,

"Colonel Pellurn made a humorous comment about finding someone who spent the last two decades on the moon. Well, more importantly, it would be favorably viewed if the investigating officer has spent the last month in a media vacuum. It so happens that Major Harper is recently returned from a thirty-day leave, which she spent in the Far East. I doubt if she bothered to pick up any American papers there."

Van Arken said curtly, "Choosing an Army investigator is not like jury selection. I don't think a JAG officer believes everything he-she-reads in the papers."

Colonel Spencer, Van Arken's adjutant, interjected, "Still, General, I like that idea. So will the media." He turned to Connelly. "Do you know of her personal history?"

Captain Connelly replied, "Yes, Sir, I believe she comes from a large family. Rural people. Farmers, I think. Ohio. " She was tempted to add

"heartland," but resisted the overkill and went on. "Her undergraduate work was at Ohio State, as her file will show. I believe her education was touch and go because of finances. She entered American University Law when she was in her mid-twenties, and Defense picked up the tab."

Lieutenant Gibbs mumbled, "In exchange for four years' hard time, like me."

He laughed to try to slough off the ill-considered remark.

Van Arken presided over the silence for a while, then abruptly pressed the intercom button on the podium and spoke to the projectionist. "Let's have Harper, Sergeant."

Within a minute the first page of the file was projected on the screen.

The five officers read the page on the screen. Colonel Spencer said, "She's presently assigned to the JAG School in Charlottesville. That's close to us here, but not too close. And she can hop on a shuttle to New York whenever necessary."

Colonel Pellum commented, "Her ETS is July sixteenth. That gives her enough time to complete the preliminary investigation and not have to stick around for the consequences. "

WORD OF HONOR 121

Lorraine Connelly said, "The file will show she's successfully conducted Article 31 and 32 investigations. Also, she's a remarkable interrogator-"

"Meaning what?" asked Van Arken curtly.

"Meaning, sir, she gets at the truth. Suspects-men, I suppose you'd say-talk freely to her. She's not abrasive, officious, or intimidating-"

"I don't want anyone who's going to be soft on Tyson."

Lieutenant Colonel Pellum said, "General, Tyson is obviously a bright man. He knows he can cripple an Article 31 investigation in the two seconds it will take him to exercise his right to remain silent. I think, though, that if a woman called on him . . . Not to be sexist, but it may help. At this stage we're only empowered to conduct this informal inquiry. So we'd like to get the most out of it until such time as we can proceed further."

Van Arken saw the others nod in agreement. He said bluntly, "Tyson may not take kindly to being investigated by a woman. " He hit a button, and the next page appeared. The five officers read the pages of Harper's file as they rolled across the screen. Van Arken commented, "She is unmarried.

" This elicited no response. Van Arken said into the intercom, "Sergeant, go on to the photograph."

The film advanced quickly, then stopped at a blurry file photograph. The projectionist adjusted the focus, and the screen filled with a black-and-white picture of a woman with light, tousled hair. She had a wide smile, big eyes, and freckles. No one spoke until Lieutenant Gibbs commented, "Looks like someone I'd let in the door."

There were a few chuckles. Van Arken heard Gibbs say something else and caught the word wife. There was some further laughter. Van Arken snapped,

"At ease."

Captain Connelly regarded General Van Arken in the glare of the projector's beam. She could see that Van Arken was deep in thought.

Lorraine Connelly had heard that Van Arken was not amused by the off-color jokes his junior officers were making about Tyson's wife.

Lorraine Connelly strongly suspected, too, that General Van Arken was not favorably disposed toward a man with a wife like that.

Colonel Spencer's voice broke the stillness. "General, I know the choice of a woman could cause some problems;

122 * NELSON DEMILLE

but if it's image you're after, then there's a good image for you." He pointed at Karen Harper's picture. "Looks like she stepped out of a Coke ad."

Van Arken rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Putting a woman in charge of the investigation, he understood, could very well enhance the image of the JAG

Corps. It would also defuse recent criticism regarding the postings and promotions of female personnel in his command. The Pentagon would be pleased.

Lieutenant Gibbs. seemed to read Van Arken's thoughts. "This might give some credence to the recruiting slogan, 'Be all you can be.' "

Van Arken eyed Gibbs with some annoyance, then continued his ruminations.

He realized that if Harper bungled the investigation, it might not reflect too unfavorably on the mostly male and mostly career officer corps. And if Major Karen Harper ran into trouble with the investigation, the White House could be pressured to quickly authorize the formal, grand jury type investigation, with subpoena powers, a working staff, and assistance from the Army CID and the FBI. There was, of course, the possibility that Major Harper would find no evidence to recommend that charges be forwarded to a grand jury. But Van Arken didn't think that was a strong possibility, given the nature of the allegations. Van Arken looked at the officers in front of him. He had the impression they favored assigning this Harper woman to the case. The General said, "Does anyone have any objections to this officer serving as the Article 31 investigating officer in the matter of Benjamin Tyson?"

No one objected.

Van Arken stared at Captain Lorraine Connelly in a way that suggested he thought she'd stuck her neck out and had better be prepared for the consequences. Van Arken said, "All right. Major Harper it is."

Van Arken turned and stared at the photograph of Karen Harper still projected on the screen. Beyond the fresh good looks and the wann smile, he thought he saw some strength of character, some keen intelligence; a result, he imagined, of the hard climb from rural poverty to an education, a law degree, a military tour of duty. He, too, had been bom in rural poverty on a Pennsylvania farm not eighty miles froffi WORD OF HONOR 0 123

where he stood now. And like Karen Harper, he reflected, he had made the climb alone, without marrying. Dependents got heavy when you started so far down in the hole that it took half a lifetime just to reach ground level with everyone else.

General Van Arken turned back to the people in the small dark room.

"Captain Connelly, you will not communicate this decision to Major Harper. On the day Tyson receives his recall orders, Major Harper will receive her orders assigning her to temporary duty as investigating officer. No one here will divulge anything that was said. No one here will have any contact with Major Harper until her investigation is completed. If there is nothing further"---he met everyone's eyes--then thank you for coming. Dismissed. "

The old Volvo rolled east on Montauk Highway, through South-CHAPTER ampton, then Water

Mill. Tyson turned left at the Methodist Church and headed up Scuttle Hole Road. The late afternoon sun lay mellow and pleasant over the well-tended

14 and prosperous potato

farms. Scuttle Hole

Road intersected with the Sag Harbor turnpike, and Tyson swung north.

He turned his head and spoke to David, who shared the rear seat with cartons and suitcases. "David, do you remember any of this?"

"Sort of. It's real nice."

Within ten minutes they entered the old whaling village of Sag Harbor.

Stately homes with widow's walks lined lower Main Street, then at the Civil War monument the street widened into the business district.

124

WORD OF HONOR * 125

Tyson joined the line of slow-moving traffic. The sidewalks were crowded with a happy-looking mixture of families, singles, gays, townsmen, fishermen, farmers, and yachtsmen from distant ports.

The Volvo continued slowly. Tyson scanned the storefronts, looking for the bookshop. In the front window was a hand-lettered sign announcing BOOKS BY

LOCAL AUTHORS. Tyson was surprised to see there were nearly two dozen scribblers in local residence. There among the books he spotted the distinctive scarlet cover of Hue: Death of a City.

"Still a hot item."

"What?"

Tyson cocked his head to the side.

Marcy looked. "Oh. Sure. Five weeks on the Times bestseller list. Number twelve and climbing. Maybe you and Picard can do a little East End publicity together. Put a rocket up that book's ass, as we say in the business. I'll handle the PR."

"Not funny."

"No," agreed David, "not funny."

Marcy shrugged. "Just trying to kill time in traffic."

The Volvo approached the traffic circle at the end of Main Street. In the center of the circle rose a tall white flagpole. The stars and stripes snapped nicely in the wind that blew off the harbor, and the halyard slapped against the pole. Beyond the circle in a grassy patch was the windmill overlooking the harbor. To the right was the Long Wharf, thick with cars, people, and fishmongers. Sailing vessels swayed at their moorings, and Tyson could hear the creaking in the riggings.

David said, "I remember this. A red seaplane landed there. "

Marcy said, "We used to have lunch at that restaurant on the wharf. See it?"

"Oh, yeah. I helped unload fish from a boat."

Tyson put in, "Catch of the day. Red snappers. I paid nine dollars a plate for them an hour later."

Marcy remarked, "You have a selective memory."

Tyson nodded. "You ain't seen nothing until you see my selective amnesia on a witness stand."

126 * NELSON DEMILLE

No one spoke. Tyson took the Volvo around the circle and headed to North Haven over the bridge crammed with joggers, bicyclists, and pedestrians.

He turned left on Short Beach Road, then left again onto a small peninsula called Baypoint. "Which way?"

"Right over there on Cliff Road, left on Bayview. There it is. The gray-shingled Cape."

Tyson looked at the white-trimmed cottage as the car descended the curved road. The grass was brown and high; the mimosa hung in heavy pink bloom over the small portico. Wildflowers grew where they could, and untrimmed spruce and cedar darkened the left half of the property. Quite lovely, really. He said, "Does this place have electricity?"

"Don't get cute, Tyson."

He pulled the car into the gravel drive and shut off the engine. There was a silence as the Tysons surveyed the property from the car. Tyson said, "This was nine thousand dollars for the summer?"

Marcy snapped, "And we were lucky to get it. There's nothing left on the entire East End." She added, "It's quaint, and it's on the bay."

David opened the rear door. "I'm going to take a look.

He shot out of the car and disappeared around the side of the garage.

Marcy and Ben sat in silence. The engine ticked, and a locust clicked somewhere. Tyson said, "You're right. This isn't far from the one we rented a couple of years ago."

"it was eight years ago."

"Was it? Time flies." He looked at the house and the trees, and he thought of that summer. Each Friday after work he'd take the Long Island Railroad from Penn Station to Bridgehampton, an unpleasant three-hour nin made barely more tolerable by spending it in the bar car. Marcy and David would meet him at the station, and they'd usually have dinner in a Bridgehampton pub whose name escaped him at the moment. On Monday morning, at dawn, he'd board the Hampton jitney bus with other men and women who were making the commute back to the front lines. Marcy had been between jobs then, and she'd spent the entire summer in Sag Harbor with David.

Marcy broke into his thoughts. "Where are you?"

WORD OF HONOR * 127

He looked at her. "That summer."

She nodded. "You took most of August off."

"Yes, I did. Things were slow at Peregrine. No one seemed to be building many fighter bombers or attack helicopters that year. That's all changed now."

"Unfortunately it has."

"How about you? No one needs any quick publicity fixes this summer?"

She replied, "I told you, I took an extended leave. The job is there when I want to go back. Tom was very good about it. Very understanding."

"Good old Tom."

They sat in silence for a while, then Tyson opened his door. "Well, let's see what sort of horror house you've rented this time."

They walked across the high weedy lawn, and Marcy found the key. They entered directly into an all-white living room furnished in what Tyson thought of as East End rental chic: chrome, glass, molded plastics, and beige cotton suede.

At the far end of the living room were sliding glass doors that led out onto a wooden deck. Marcy walked to the doors and slid one open. She took a deep breath. "Smell that sea. "

Tyson slid the screen open and walked onto the redwood deck. Marcy followed. Tyson looked out over the property. The yard dropped off and ended in a tangle of bramble and a heap of bulkhead rocks. Beyond was the body of water called Sag Harbor Cove. David was picking his way over the rocks. Tyson said, "I hope there's some hot little number around here for him."

Marcy leaned on the deck rail and watched their son. "I hope he finds whatever he needs out here." She stared out at a sleek yellow-sailed catamaran gliding west toward the narrows. "A sailboat in the backyard.

This is beautiful, Ben. "

"Yes . . . but you'll miss the Big Apple. You may even miss Garden City."

"I'll miss New York, but I won't miss Garden City. It was insufferable these last few weeks."

"It's all in the mind. " Tyson gave her a sidelong glance. The wind blew her hair, and the sun shone fully on her