Word of Honor (19 page)

"It's your wife," said Miss Beale over the intercom.

"I'll take it." Tyson pressed the blinking phone button. "Hello."

" Hi. " Marcy's voice sounded distant.

There was a short silence, then Tyson said, "Let me have the phone number."

She gave it to him and said, "We've had rain the last two days. How is it there?"

Tyson glanced back through the window. "Same."

"Sometimes the weather here is different."

"Sometimes it is. How's David?"

"Fine. He found some friends, and the rain doesn't seem to keep them from fishing. They found a hangout, too. A disco off Main Street."

"In Sag Harbor? What's it called? The Wailing Whaler's Top Deck? What's the world coming to?"

"Who knows? There's a steel band on the Long Wharf at night."

"Is there?"

"Yes, and that place where John Steinbeck used to hang out-the Black Buoy-well, it's got a new image."

Tyson wondered how she knew. He said, "Well, sometimes it's not a good idea to try to go back, is it? I mean, sometimes it's painful.

"Sometimes. "

Tyson swiveled his chair around and stared at the rainsplattered window. He used to be ambivalent about rain, but after going through two monsoons, each of three months' duration, he had developed a deep dislike for wet weather.

Marcy said, "Are we still friends?"

"Sure. 11

"Good." Her voice still had a tentative tone. "Anything new at work?"

"No. The arms race is still making everyone here giddy with delight. Lots of work. "

She hesitated before saying, "I was thinking ... if. well, I'd consider going to Tokyo with you . . . I mean, I'd definitely go . . . if that's what you decided."

Tyson replied, "Tokyo is no longer an option."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm in the Army now."

148 0 NELSON DEMILLE

"What ... ?"

Tyson glanced at the papers on his desk. "The letter said, 'Greeting.'

After that it was all downhill."

"Oh . . . oh, Ben . . . "

"Well, anyway, I had a meeting with Kimura, and I informed him of my new status." Tyson thought back to the meeting less than an hour before.

There had been nothing inscrutable about Mr. Kimura's visage, and Tyson had read him well. Kimura, he was certain, knew about the recall order, though he feigned otherwise. Tyson said to Marcy, "Kimura offered me half pay during my time on active duty. I don't know if that includes jail time."

Marcy didn't reply.

Tyson continued, "Plus all my vacation pay, sick pay, and some year-end bonus money."

"That ... that was very generous."

"Very." But Tyson didn't think generosity had anything to do with it. The government was subsidizing this, one way or another. They didn't want to leave him destitute. And that was not altruism, that was public relations strategy. But he didn't think he wanted to play their game. He said, "I don't know what first lieutenants make these days, and I really don't give a damn, but I figure with that pay and your salary we'll be broke within the year."

"What do you mean? Didn't you accept the offer?"

"No. In fact, I'm thinking of resigning as a matter of principle. "

"Why? That's absurd, Ben. Take the half pay. You've put in years of hard work for that company-"

"But how about principle? You're a principled person, so I thought you'd understand. I thought you'd back me up on this. And you're an antimaterialist. So it can't be money you're worried about."

"Are you baiting me?"

"Quite possibly."

Marcy stayed silent for some time, then said, "What is the principle you're going to resign for?"

"The right to be financially ruined. The right to reject money you don't work for. The right to suffer the consequences of one's actions. The right to embarrass the gov-WORD OF HONOR * 149

ernment. How's that for antiestablishment rhetoric? Aren't you proud of me?"

"Look . . . I didn't call to fight ... and I think I understand ... but you have a family.

"We'll get by."

There was a silence, then Marcy said, "Yes, we'll get by. Do what you think is best."

Tyson nodded to himself. He had the feeling she meant it.

Marcy said, "What does this recall mean? Do you have to go somewhere?"

"Well, yes. I also received assignment orders." He glanced at the separate sheet of paper. "Could be a lot worse-"

"Where?"

"Fort Hamilton. Brooklyn. You know where that is? Near the Verrazano Bridge."

"Yes . . . well, that's good. Can you . . . are you confined or anything?"

"I don't know. I just have to report by fifteen July, as they say in the back-assward Army. " He thought a moment. :'Hey, when's my shark trip?" He looked at his daybook.

'The fourteenth. Good. I can do that, then report in the next day. I'll bring the shark if I get one. " He paused, then observed, "This sucks a mop."

She didn't reply, but he thought he heard her stifling a sob.

Tyson lit a cigarette and put his feet on the windowsill. If he were unmarried, he reflected, he'd have already quit his job and been in Hong Kong by now, a city he remembered fondly from his R and R. Everyone, including and especially the government, would be glad to see him go. But not, unfortunately, to Hong Kong, a British colony. He'd have to go, as old Chet indicated, someplace where the government could make a pretense of being unable to get him back. That is what he would do if he were not a husband and father. But he was. Still, it was enticing. He watched the rain running down the big windowpane, then said, "What do you think of the idea of me skipping out of the country? I mean, is that an alternative to this mess?"

"It is. But your ego and your overblown sense of responsibility will keep you here."

150 * NELSON DEMILLE

Tyson thought that her voice sounded stronger, more like Marcy. She always bounced back quickly. He said, "But I'd be saving you, David, and the government a lot of embarrassment and trouble. They're probably praying in Washington that I fly away and bother them no more."

"Well, if that's true, you should work out a deal of some sort. . . . "

Tyson thought Marcy and Chet Brown would get along well. "Right. Airfare and pension. Send for the family later. Brazil has no extradition, but I don't care for the tropics. Maybe Sweden. They have limited extradition.

I'll get a job with Volvo. I'll talk them into putting electronic rocket-aiming devices in the four-door model. What do you think?"

Marcy forced a light tone in her voice. "Get yourself a big blonde Viking.

You always liked blondes."

Tyson smiled. "Well . . . let's think about it. Fight or flight? I have a few weeks."

Neither spoke, then Marcy said, "How are we doing?"

Tyson was surprised to hear himself saying, "I love you."

She replied quickly, "I love you, too." She added, "But I think you've decided not to come home."

Tyson didn't reply.

She said, "I suppose you have enough on your mind without marital problems.

Right?"

Tyson didn't offer an immediate reply, then said, "I found a place in the city. Paul Stein's. You know him. He's going to the Hamptons. I pay the utilities, keep the burglars away, forward the mail, and take phone messages."

Again, there was a long, awkward silence, then Marcy spoke. "Will they let you live . . . what is it called-?"

"Off-post. I hope so. Beats BOQ-bachelor officer's quarters. . . . My horoscope this morning said, 'You will exchange a well-paying executive position for a job as a house sitter. New careers in the armed forces will open up for you. You may go on a long trip at government expense, or you may go at your own expense to a place where the government can't find you.

Your mate will be understanding if she gets a postcard from Rio de Janeiro signed Joao.'

"Just keep me informed."

Tyson swung the chair around to his desk. "Okay. You have Stein's number.

I'll be moving in this weekend."

WORD OF HONOR * 151

"Well . . . watch out for those horny working girls "Best to David."

"I'll tell him." "Okay, Take care." "I will. You, too. "Good-bye. "

"Good-bye. " Neither hung up, and Tyson said, " 'Bye." 4 4 'Bye. ' I Tyson put the receiver in the cradle and saw that his hand was shaking. "Damn it. " He slammed his hand on his desk, and the desk items bounced. "Damn it!" He stood and kicked the wastebasket across the room,

Ben Tyson stood in front of the round barbecue grill, a Scotch

CHAPTER in one hand, a spatula

in the other. He looked

down at the single

hamburger. There was

something pathetic

about it, he decided,

and he scooped it up

with the spatula, flip-

16 ping it into the bushes.

He finished his Scotch.

The stillness of the backyard was broken by a sudden, sharp report that quieted the birds. Somewhere out on the dark street there was a series of hollow popping sounds, and a dog began barking. A few backyards down, he could hear the sounds of recorded music and laughter. July Fourth was not his favorite holiday, but spending it alone was no treat either. Most years, if he was home, he, Marcy, and David would go to the country club. The club went to great pains to create a traditional Fourth with striped tents on the lawn, hot dogs, hamburgers, balloons, and cotton candy.

152

WORD OF HONOR * 153

People sat on the veranda and drank beer, children's games were organized, and a brass band played Sousa marches. The only thing missing, thankfully, was speeches.

He had considered joining the festivities, but decided he was not in the mood to meet the public, nor did he feel like spreading awkwardness among his neighbors. His objective for the evening was to get too drunk to consider taking the rented car out to Sag Harbor.

Tyson opened the French doors and went into the den. He poured himself another Scotch and took a few books from the shelf, dropping them into a carton. He intended to drive into Manhattan in the morning and move into Paul Stein's apartment.

The phone rang, but Tyson ignored it as he went through his desk drawers trying to find his pocket calculator. The phone kept ringing. Only about a dozen people had the unlisted number, and he couldn't think of one he wanted to speak to. He found his calculator and dropped it in his briefcase. The phone continued to ring. He suddenly realized it might be David, and he picked it up.

A female voice he didn't recognize said, "Mr. Benjamin Tyson?"

Tyson said, "Who is this?"

"This is Major Harper--

He felt his stomach give a turn.

"I'm from the Judge Advocate General's office. I've been assigned to conduct an investigation under Article 31 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice to look into the facts surrounding certain allegations of wrongdoing at Mis6ricorde Hospital in the Republic-"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, Lieutenant, I am."

Tyson sat in his desk chair. "How did you get my number?"

Major Harper replied, "It was given to me in my briefing papers-"

"This is an unlisted number."

"I don't see what relevance that has. I do apologize for calling on a holiday evening-"

"Where are you calling from?"

"Washington, which is also irrelevant, Lieutenant."

154 * NELSON DEMILLE

"I don't wish to be called lieutenant."

"Did you receive your orders recalling you to active duty?"

Tyson leaned forward and doodled on his blotter. This call was not unexpected, yet he found he wasn't quite prepared for it. A few days ago he might have been able to leave the country legally. Today, he was an officer in the United States Army, and he did not have the freedoms that most American citizens enjoyed.

Major Harper said, "I have a registered mail receipt here-"

"Yes, I got the damned thing."

After a silence on the phone, Major Harper said, "I would appreciate it if you would address me with the respect that is due my rank."

Tyson rubbed his eyes and sat back in the chair. "Do you expect me to call you ma'am?"

"That is the correct form of address for a female officer of higher rank."

Tyson exhaled a long breath. His head was beginning to ache, and his stomach did another turn. He put a milder tone in his voice. "All right.

I suppose I ought to be as polite as possible, ma'am."

Her tone was immediately conciliatory. "I'm sorry if I came on a little strong."

"No problem. What can I do for you?"

"Well, as I said, I'm conducting this informal investigation to determine if there is any substance to certain allegations put forth in a book called Hue: Death of a City. assume you're familiar with the work."

"It certainly sounds familiar."

She said, "I was going to begin my investigation in other areas, then call you, But then the thought occurred to me that you may want to have the opportunity to give your side first. "

"That's thoughtful."

Major Harper continued, "I'm supposed to advise you of your rights under Article 31 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice. You have the right to remain silent and the right to counsel. Also, I'm to advise you of any possible charge contemplated ... which is . . . murder. "

WORD OF HONOR * 155

Tyson did not reply.

She continued, "You also have the right to question witnesses, but we have none at this time. As I said, I called you first. Look, as an officer you know your rights. What I want to know is if you'd like us to meet."

Tyson considered his reply. The woman was unusually open, admitting she hadn't done any preliminary work before calling. The usual procedure in an Army investigation, he recalled, was to suggest to the suspect that there were already battalions of witnesses against him, drawers full of signed depositions, and lockers overflowing with incriminating evidence.

He saw a faint possibility that this could be quashed at this stage. It depended to a large extent, he understood, on himself and this unknown woman. To be sure, there were other factors, but the recommendation of a preliminary investigating officer not to pursue the matter might kill it. Tyson said, "All right. Let's meet."