Word of Honor

by Nelson DeMille

  “Sixteen,” said Tyson and David simultaneously.

  “Sixteen-year-old son take a subway?”

  “Subways are safe,” declared Tyson. “Don’t believe everything you read in the papers. That’s the trouble around here. Everybody believes what they read in the papers.”

  David said, “Maybe I’ll just go down to the baseball field.”

  “Okay,” said Tyson. “Why don’t you go now?”

  “Right.” He stood, grabbed some plates, and disappeared into the kitchen, calling out good-byes. The kitchen screen door opened and shut.

  Marcy looked at Corva. “Why do you and Ben have to see Colonel Levin today?”

  Corva replied, “Some administrative matter, I suppose.”

  Marcy stared at him for some time. “Bullshit.”

  Tyson said, “Let’s stop browbeating our guest.” He turned to Corva. “The food may be dull, but the company isn’t.”

  “I really like chicken salad.”

  Marcy laughed without humor. “Oh, God, sometimes I think we’re going stir-crazy in this place.” She addressed Corva. “It has been three weeks since you’ve been on this case. What have you done or discovered or whatever?”

  “Well, I’ve spoken to Phillip Sloan, filed various motions in the Federal District Court, sent telegrams to the Department of the Army, Justice Department, the JAG, and the White House. I’ve held a press conference, and I’ve got my picture in Newsweek, Time, U.S. News, and the American Investigator.”

  Marcy smiled, then turned to Tyson. “I haven’t seen Wally Jones’s byline for the last three weeks.”

  “Really? Probably on vacation.”

  Marcy turned back to Corva. “And you’ve contacted the witnesses?”

  “Well, the government’s witnesses’ attorneys. And Karen Harper. She wasn’t obligated to give me the fruits of a preliminary investigation, but she was most helpful.”

  “Yes, she was helpful to Ben, also. But what do you think she recommended?”

  Corva glanced at Tyson, then said to Marcy, “Based on the expected testimony of the two government witnesses she probably recommended pursuing the case.”

  “Further investigation? A formal hearing? More months of this?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Tyson said, “Anyone want a drink? Gin and tonic, out on the patio?”

  Marcy stood. “There is no patio, Ben. And I have no tonic or limes.”

  “Well, call Gristedes and have them deliver tonic and limes and a patio. On the double.”

  “How about wine spritzers on the front stoop instead?” suggested Marcy.

  “Fine.” Tyson stood. He came around the table and kissed his wife. “Good lunch.”

  Marcy patted his cheek. “Bullshit.”

  Corva stood also. “I’ll be out front.” He took his suit jacket from the back of the chair and walked through the living room, leaving by the front door.

  Marcy said, “Do you have faith in him?”

  “Do you?”

  “I’m not the one facing murder charges. Answer the question.”

  Tyson considered a moment before replying. “He has an unusual philosophy of the law. Sometimes I think truth and legality are Protestant obsessions. Mr. Corva takes a more subjective view of life. He’s not interested in the crime but in the law’s perception of it, the witnesses against me, and why they are against me. Sloan was always quoting the law, asking what happened at that hospital. Corva wants to know all there is to know about Brandt and Farley and is trying to determine what they think happened at the hospital. Different approach.”

  She nodded. “But it makes sense, especially after all these years have gone by.”

  Tyson said, “On my first meeting with him he asked me to read the Japanese play Rashomon. So I did. Do you know it?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, it was about a rape and a killing. And it was four perspectives of the crime, told by four people at a trial. No two people reported the same thing. The bandit said he killed the husband, the wife said she killed the husband, the ghost of the husband said he killed himself, and a woodcutter said the husband fell on his own sword by accident. Obviously at least three people were lying, perhaps all four. The point is that truth is in the eye of the beholder, and no single objective explanation for a human event can ever be found.” He smiled grimly. “Of course everyone on the receiving end of what happened at that hospital had the same ultimate experience. But if they were around to testify I think they would relate different perceptions.”

  Marcy nodded. “So Vincent Corva’s defense is based on a Japanese play?”

  Tyson shrugged. “Why not? Better than an Aesop’s fable where everyone gets his just desserts.”

  Marcy looked doubtful. She looked into his eyes and said, “Ben, what is happening today?”

  “Don’t know, love. But I don’t think it’s an award ceremony.” Tyson said, “Why don’t you and David go back home?”

  “We are home.”

  He let out a breath. “Well, why don’t you go back to the big air-conditioned house we own with the patio out back?”

  “You mean the house in Garden City where our country club is and all our friends are and where we have membership to the swimming pool and where all the nice stores and shops are, and the MPs don’t ticket me every day for not having a parking sticker? That house?”

  “Right. That’s the place.”

  “Why would I want to go there if it meant leaving you?”

  “Be still, my heart. Look, have you thought about David starting school?”

  “Yes. I don’t think he can go back to public school. Not here or in Garden City or anywhere. They would make his life miserable.”

  Tyson nodded.

  Marcy said, “Your mother has a room for him, and he could stay with her in Florida and go to school under another name, or have a tutor—”

  “No. He’s staying here. With me. And if there’s a court-martial he will attend.”

  “No, he will not.”

  “Yes, he will. Find a private school or a tutor in the area.”

  They stared at each other. Tyson looked at his watch. “Forget the spritzers. I have to go. Get this table cleaned up, then go down to the Laundromat and—”

  “Buzz off.”

  Tyson grabbed her and kissed her hard on the lips. “I love you.”

  “Me too. Good luck.”

  Tyson walked into the living room and took his tunic from the sofa. He left the house and found Corva sitting on the front stoop looking through his briefcase. Tyson said, “Sorry to keep you waiting. I couldn’t find the wine.”

  “That’s all right.”

  “How about a drink at the club? It’s on the way, sort of.”

  “Thanks, anyway. We should get moving. We should be there by now.” He closed his briefcase and stood.

  Tyson ignored him and asked, “Did you ever play stoopball when you were a kid in the slums?”

  “Actually I grew up in a nice section of Staten Island.” He motioned across the Narrows. “Right over there. Big house and garden.”

  “Your father grew sweet basil and tomatoes and all that?”

  “Right. Zucchini and eggplant. We had fig trees. Had to wrap and insulate them every winter. You ever taste a fresh fig?”

  “No. But I saw them once at Gristedes for fifty cents apiece. My father grew roses and boxwoods. My mother couldn’t cook.”

  “Why would anyone want to cook roses and boxwoods?”

  “I don’t know. Protestants eat funny things.”

  Corva smiled. “Listen, I’ll take you and Marcy and David to the Feast of San Gennaro next month. Down on Mulberry Street. You can get fresh figs for a quarter.”

  “Good. Looking forward to it.” Neither man spoke. Finally Corva glanced at his watch. “Well, I think it’s time.”

  Tyson nodded. “Right.”

  Corva said, “Remember, it’s only words. It’s not incoming rounds.”

/>   Tyson smiled. “Right.”

  “And if we don’t like the words they’re saying, we can just beat the shit out of them.”

  “Can we do that?”

  “Sure. Article 141. Let’s go.”

  They began to walk to post headquarters.

  * * *

  Benjamin Tyson and Vincent Corva sat in the office of the assistant adjutant, Captain Hodges. Tyson glanced at the communicating door that led into Colonel Levin’s office. He said to Corva, “Levin was the person who recommended you.”

  Corva nodded.

  “Do you know him?”

  “No, but I had a manslaughter case at Fort Dix about a year ago, and Levin was on the court-martial board. He asked me a lot of questions.”

  “Good questions?”

  “Too good.”

  “You lost?”

  “Well . . . the accused was found guilty.”

  “Is that the same as you losing?”

  “I guess so.” Corva yawned.

  Tyson inquired, “Do you win any?”

  Corva was leafing through his notebook. “What’s that?”

  “Do you win any?”

  “Oh. . . .” He seemed to be searching his memory. “A few.” He leaned toward Tyson. “How many did you win? I mean, when you were defense counsel at special courts-martial.”

  Tyson said impatiently, “That’s not relevant. I wasn’t a lawyer. And nearly everyone I defended was patently guilty.”

  “Right. Or they wouldn’t have been there.”

  “That’s right,” said Tyson.

  Corva added, “The Army rarely convenes a court-martial unless they know the accused is guilty. If there’s any doubt, they usually dismiss the charge, or they offer the accused non-judicial punishment and see if he bites. Occasionally they’ll order further investigation. But they don’t enter a court-martial room with their fingers crossed the way a civilian DA does.” He looked at Tyson and smiled. “So how many did you win when you were the prosecution? All?”

  “Most of them pleaded guilty. The rest were pretty much open and shut. I mean like AWOLs. Either you are there when you’re supposed to be or you are not. But this is not a special court-martial. This is a general court-martial, involving a capital crime, a very complex case. So I don’t see any analogy.”

  “But there is a similarity. Most of the people I defend are as patently guilty as an AWOL soldier. By the time they call me they’ve fired their free Army attorney, and they are desperate. In this rather limited field I am known as Saint Jude, patron saint of hopeless causes.”

  “Now you tell me.”

  Corva smiled. “Be of good cheer, Benjamin. I’m due for a miracle.”

  “Me too.” Tyson stood and went to the window. He stared out over the small post, watching the activity of military life below. “Sometimes I remember the faces of the accused men who were marched into a court-martial room. I don’t like to see that look on men’s faces. It’s demoralizing to me to see men who are so frightened. It’s embarrassing to everyone in the courtroom. I don’t want to have that look on my face, Vince.”

  Corva said, “You’re allowed to be frightened. But you will not look frightened. Not in front of a court-martial board. You know that.”

  “I know it. I won’t even flinch when they hand me twenty to life.”

  “Twenty to life? Christ, I’ll flinch.”

  Tyson turned from the window and stared at Corva.

  Corva said, “By the way, when we get in there, feel free to speak your mind. You say you have a good relationship with Levin, so you don’t have to let me do all the talking. Also he doesn’t represent the prosecution. He’s just your immediate commander, and he’s only doing his job.”

  “What’s his job today, Vincent?”

  “Being a prick.”

  The door opened, and Captain Hodges stuck his head in.

  Tyson said to Corva, “Speaking of which . . .”

  Corva laughed.

  Hodges looked both annoyed and confused. He cleared his throat. “The colonel will see you now.”

  Corva stood and led the way into Levin’s office. Corva stepped aside to the right, Hodges to the left. Tyson went straight to the desk, saluted, and said, “Lieutenant Tyson reports, sir.”

  Levin returned the salute, then stood to shake hands with Vincent Corva and introduced Corva to Captain Hodges, who also shook hands with Corva. Colonel Levin sat, Corva sat in the chair indicated by Hodges, and Hodges sat. Tyson remained standing at attention. He was sure every facet of protocol was satisfied, but somehow he felt left out. He thought he should remind them that he was the reason they were all there.

  Colonel Levin said, “Have a seat, Lieutenant.”

  Tyson sat in the only empty chair, between Corva and Hodges.

  Levin let a moment go by before saying, “I have here a copy of Major Harper’s preliminary investigation report, conducted under Article 31 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice.” He opened a legal-sized file folder on his desk and addressed Tyson. “I’ve asked Captain Hodges to be present as a witness, owing to the fact that you have legal counsel present.”

  Tyson nodded.

  Hodges said, “Please respond verbally, Lieutenant.”

  Tyson said, “Yes, sir.”

  Levin looked down at the folder. “I have been instructed, as your commanding officer, to make you aware of certain aspects of the investigation.”

  Corva said, “May I have a copy of the preliminary investigator’s report, Colonel?”

  “No, you may not. You and I know, Mr. Corva, that unlike an Article 32 investigation report, this is an internal communication. This report is between Major Harper and General George Peters, post commander of Fort Dix, who has general court-martial convening authority in this case. However, I have been instructed by General Peters, on advice of his Staff Judge Advocate, to read to the accused pertinent sections of this report.”

  Corva said, “May I request, Colonel, that you begin with the end? What is her conclusion?”

  Captain Hodges stirred in his chair and made a sound that clearly indicated he did not like to have his colonel interrupted or otherwise annoyed. Under other circumstances Tyson might have enjoyed Hodges’s frustration in dealing with a civilian.

  Colonel Levin seemed to take Corva’s suggestion well. He nodded. “Of course. I don’t mean to drag this out and cause Lieutenant Tyson any unnecessary anxiety.” He looked directly at Tyson and said, “Major Harper did not recommend that the case be dismissed.”

  Tyson nodded. He never expected that she would. Yet somewhere in the back of his mind he thought she might.

  Corva said, “Then we are to have an Article 32 investigation?”

  Colonel Levin seemed not to hear. He drew a typed sheet of paper toward him. “I’ll read you certain parts of this as I’ve been instructed.” He cleared his throat. “She states: ‘My preliminary investigation did not uncover any documentary evidence or physical evidence of a crime, nor was it likely to, considering the locale of the alleged crime and the length of time that has elapsed since the crime allegedly took place. Further investigation for this type of evidence is not likely to be fruitful. Therefore, I have considered only the statements of the witnesses in reaching my conclusion. The statements of Dr. Steven Brandt and Mr. Richard Farley, if taken at face value, clearly indicate that a violation of the Uniform Code of Military Justice took place at the time and location in question. Further, their statements indicate that this violation would come under Article 118, murder, for which there is no statute of limitations. Further, the government has established its jurisdiction over the suspect but has not established such jurisdiction over other possible suspects. Therefore, though there appears to be testimonial evidence that would incriminate other former members of the United States Army, this report is confined to the subject of Lieutenant Benjamin Tyson.’”

  Colonel Levin looked at Tyson briefly, then at Corva. He said to Corva, “Any questions so far?”


  “No, sir.”

  Levin nodded and continued reading. “‘The statements of Paul Sadowski and Anthony Scorello, on the other hand, are in almost direct contradiction to those of Brandt and Farley and refute the most damning points of those two statements. During extensive interviews with Lieutenant Tyson, as noted in some detail earlier, he made statements which were strikingly similar to those of Sadowski and Scorello. It should be further noted, however, that Lieutenant Tyson did not impeach the statements or character of either of the potential witnesses against him; he merely told a different version of the events in question. There is, though, some evidence based on various statements made by Paul Sadowski that Dr. Brandt may harbor some hostility or bias toward the accused. This hostility or bias would have had its genesis during the time Lieutenant Tyson and Dr. Brandt served together, as there is no evidence to suggest they saw or communicated with each other since the day Lieutenant Tyson was medically evacuated from the Republic of Vietnam.’” Colonel Levin looked at Tyson, then at Corva. “Okay so far?”

  Corva turned to Tyson. “Okay?”

  Tyson shrugged. “I guess so. Am I supposed to add anything or question anything?”

  “No,” said Corva. “Just listen closely because we’re not entitled to see this, only to hear it, and that only as a courtesy.”

  “And,” interjected Hodges, “in the interests of justice.”

  Corva turned to Hodges and smiled. “Thank you, Captain. We know that.”

  Hodges’s face reddened.

  Levin cleared his throat. “Okay. Major Harper further states: ‘This preliminary investigation has noted the existence of five additional witnesses to this incident: Daniel Kelly, Hernando Beltran, Lee Walker, Louis Kalane, and Michael DeTonq. The status of these witnesses is covered in a separate section of this report.’” Levin looked at Corva. “They have not been located.”

  Corva nodded.

  Levin continued reading: “‘There is, in addition to these eyewitnesses, the author Andrew Picard, whose role in this matter is well known. Mr. Picard’s statements to me on the telephone confirm that any testimony he would offer would be no more than hearsay. Mr. Picard, however, is the link to the last known and possible eyewitness, Sister Teresa. This matter is also covered in a separate section.’” Levin flipped a page and read, “‘In conclusion I believe that the evidence I have uncovered to date indicates that there is probable cause to believe that a violation of the Uniform Code of Military Justice occurred. Therefore, I recommend that this matter be referred to further investigation under Article 32 of the Code.’” Levin looked up from the report.