Heart of War

by Lucian K. Truscott

  Kara didn’t bother reporting formally. Protocol was comparatively loose in the office of the SJA. The assumption seemed to be that if you spent your time on matters legal rather than military, the job would get done more efficiently. Kara liked Lieutenant Colonel Lambert. She was brusque with everyone, but her manner was so evenhanded, no one took it personally. Lambert had let it be known around the office that her fondest desire was to pick up her promotion to colonel and finish out her career up in Washington running the Contract Appeals Division of the Army Legal Services Agency, an obscure but powerful backwater in the capital swamp. Kara hoped she got what she wanted. Anyone who had put up with what Lieutenant Colonel Lambert had for twenty years deserved to have at least one wish come true.

  Kara sat down in a chair across the desk. Lambert’s brow furrowed, and as usual she didn’t waste words. “I got a report from Colonel Freeman this morning about your performance at the court-martial of Corporal Richards. It seems you left quite an impression, Major.”

  Kara smiled. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Colonel Freeman described your case as, and here I quote, ‘aggressively and expertly presented.’ “ She looked up from the page. “He also called me this morning. He said the prosecution didn’t have a chance against you.”

  Lambert ran her fingers through her cropped hair. “I like your style, Kara. That’s why I’m moving you over to the prosecutor’s desk. I want you to put your talents to use sending a few of the bad actors on this post to jail. This reassignment is a strong vote of confidence in you, Major. Even though you’ve only been a JAG for less than a year, you’re already turning some heads.”

  “Well, I just put on the best case I could, ma’am.”

  “So consider yourself a prosecutor, Major Guidry.”

  “May I ask you a question, ma’am?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Was this your idea or someone else’s?”

  A smile formed slowly on Lieutenant Colonel Lambert’s features.

  “You’re thinking that the commanding general might have had something to do with this, aren’t you?”

  “It crossed my mind, ma’am. He’s made it clear he wants more convictions.”

  “You can relax, Kara. This was entirely my decision. If the commanding general had been involved in this decision, somewhere down the line some smart defense attorney might have charged that command influence was used in changing your assignment from defense to prosecution. That’s not going to happen. I’m the one who wants you prosecuting cases, and the first one I’m going to assign you to is the Sheila Worthy murder.”

  “It’s now formally a murder case, ma’am?”

  “Frank Hollaway was in here last night. He recommended that we treat it as a murder and investigate it as such. The stab wound might not have killed her, but it was a contributing factor. That makes it second-degree murder. You’ll be working hand in hand with Frank. I assume you know each other.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Very well.”

  “Pay close attention to him. You can learn a lot from him.”

  “Yes, ma’am. He’s good at what he does.”

  Lieutenant Colonel Lambert leaned back in her chair. “Do you mind telling me where you learned to put on a case like that? I mean, Colonel Freeman was impressed. He said you just tore Sanders up. You went to West Point, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “But you didn’t go right into the JAG Corps out of the Point.”

  “No, ma’am. I flew helicopters after I graduated from West Point. Resupply choppers, mostly. Later I checked out in Blackhawks and flew them for several years. I had sufficient time in grade and more than enough seat time to qualify for a squadron command when my turn came. Then Aviation Branch cut me off at the knees. They could swallow, just barely, a woman behind the stick of a Blackhawk, but they couldn’t stomach a female squadron commander. I wanted to resign from the Army over that issue, but an old friend of yours, Colonel Masters, talked me out of it. She got me in the JAG law school program, and I ended up here. Colonel Masters herself made sure I got this assignment to your SJA office, because she thought that you would be more receptive to a female JAG officer with an off-kilter career pattern, who wasn’t starting off as a captain the way everyone else does.”

  “All I’m interested in is performance, Major Guidry. I don’t care if my lawyers wear a skirt or pants as long as they perform. Somebody out there killed that young woman, Major. I want the killer tracked down and brought to justice.”

  Kara stood up. “We’ll find her killer, ma’am.”

  General Beckwith was standing at the window in his office when Retreat sounded. Everyone down on the parade field below him turned and saluted the flag as it was lowered by a squad of MP’s. He watched them fold the flag and form up and march away. Then he turned and bellowed: “Randy! Where’s my damn drink!”

  Randy Taylor came through the door carrying the General’s martini. “Got it for you right here, sir.”

  The General took a generous sip and sat down on the leather sofa between the bookshelves. He put his feet up on the coffee table and lit a cigar and exhaled a thick plume of smoke. Randy stood nervously to the side, waiting for the General to invite him to sit down. If the truth were told, he had done his best to avoid moments like this one since his return from Washington. He dreaded what was about to happen. The General was going to engage him in small talk for a few moments, and then he was going to ask him for a favor of the kind he would be obliged to report to General Ranstead.

  The General cleared his throat. “I forgot to ask how your trip to Washington went, Randy. Did you get that business taken care of at DESPER?”

  “Yes, sir. It took most of the day, but I was able to make the last flight out of National, so it turned out okay.”

  “Excellent. Excellent. It’s nice that we’ve got a comparatively short hop to Washington. I’d hate to be out there at Fort Lewis and be facing six goddamn hours in the air every time I thought about going back to the Pentagon for a meeting.”

  “So would I, sir.”

  “Have a seat, Randy. Is everything ready for the reception for the Sec Def tonight?”

  “Yes, sir. I talked to Peters over at the O-Club. He’s got a wonderful spread laid on, sir. He was able to get fresh shrimp out of Panama City this morning, and they’ve done a ten-rib standing rib roast, and he’s got a good selection of cheeses he picked up in Atlanta this morning. I was over there at noon. He had everything almost ready then.”

  “Excellent. Peters is quality people. I’m glad we’ve got him on the team.”

  “Yes, sir. He came out of the Cornell hotel school, you know, sir.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Yes, sir. He’s worked in the Bahamas, and he was the assistant manager at the Hotel Thayer up at West Point before he came down here.” Randy was stringing out the small talk as long as he could, hoping against hope the phone would ring, or the chief of staff would interrupt them.

  “I’ll be damned.” Beckwith pulled contentedly on his cigar for a moment. “You picked up my uniform from the cleaners?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s ready.”

  “Damn fine work, Randy. Damn fine.” He puffed contentedly for another moment, then turned slowly to Randy.

  Oh-oh. Here it comes.

  “Are you, uh, escorting anyone to the reception tonight?”

  “No, sir. With my aide duties—”

  “Right. Right.” Beckwith sipped his martini. “You know what I’m going to do, Randy? I’m going to release you from duty tonight. I’ve got a special assignment for you. I want you to escort Captain Love to the reception, Randy. She’s brand-new on the staff. Have you met her?”

  “We’re classmates from West Point, sir.”

  “That’s right. I forgot!” He took a pull on his cigar. “What I meant to ask was, have you had a chance to chat with her since she became my new liaison to the base closure commission?”

  “No, sir, I h
aven’t. I was in Washington, and . . .”

  “That’s right. Well, I want her to meet the Sec Def and his staff and make a good impression. She’s going to be doing a lot of business up there in the coming months. You think you could do that for me?”

  “Yes, sir. I guess so, if it’s all right with Captain Love.”

  “Oh, it’s fine with her. I already mentioned it to her.”

  “Sir, uh, do you know where she’s staying?”

  “Downtown at the Ramada Suites. You can pick her up there. Why don’t you use one of the staff cars? Make it easier for you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Randy, I want you to make sure she meets the Sec Def. I know you can do that for me, can’t you?”

  “Yes, sir. Sure.”

  Beckwith clapped Randy on the shoulder. “I knew I could count on you, Randy. You’re the best goddamn aide in the United States Army, you know that?”

  Randy swallowed hard. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration, sir.”

  “Negative. You’re the best. None better. Now get with it, son. You’ve got a beautiful young woman waiting for you. Get.”

  Downstairs, the staff car was waiting, as if the General had known all along what Randy’s answer would be. He climbed in the backseat.

  He’s up to something, Randy thought as the driver pulled away from the curb.

  But then, of course, so am I.

  Chapter Nine

  She was reaching for the skirt to her dress blues when she heard him. He didn’t make much noise, but she knew he was there. She turned, half expecting him to take her into his arms and throw her on the bed, but he didn’t.

  He was standing in the bedroom door, thumbs hooked in his belt. “You’re going out tonight.”

  “I told you about it yesterday.”

  He stood there looking at her, and she thought something truly stupid. She thought, Those are the biggest lashes on a man I have ever seen, and it’s only right now that I noticed them.

  “Oh, yeah. You’ve got that thing with the Secretary of Defense.”

  “That’s right.”

  “But if you stay home, you’ll have a thing with the sergeant of platoons. So who’s it going to be? Me or the Sec Def?”

  “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll be back in two hours.”

  “I could have hung out in the barracks, shot some pool.”

  “What are we going to do, Mace?”

  “Stay home. Make love. Eat. Drink. Be merry.”

  “No. I mean, in the greater scheme of things . . . how long can we keep this up? We’ve already made one mistake. Somebody’s going to figure it out, and then it’s going to be all over for both of us.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed.

  “How’d you get out here tonight?” she asked.

  “Caught a bus.”

  “Were there any other soldiers on it?”

  “Don’t worry. I got off a half mile down the road and cut through the woods. Nobody saw me coming down your drive.”

  She wrapped her arms around him. “I hate this. It’s so . . . unnatural.”

  “That isn’t the word I’d pick to describe it. Fucked up, is what it is.”

  “We’ll be okay. We’ve just got to be really, really careful.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m like a stealth bomber when it comes to you. I come in under their radar.”

  She laughed. “What kind of a day did you have?”

  “Shitty. Lieutenant Parks had us polishing boots and brass, getting ready for the Sec Def parade; then it rained and they called it off.”

  “That reminds me,” said Kara. “Parks came by the house the other night.”

  “I bet he told you he used to date Sheila Worthy.”

  “How’d you know that?”

  “Platoon sergeants know everything about their lieutenants. It’s part of the job.”

  “Lieutenant Colonel Lambert called me in and put me on the case. I’m going to be the prosecutor this time.”

  “You’d better watch your step. A dead female lieutenant, daughter of a colonel . . . you’re going to be sticking your face through the canvas on that one.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “It’s an old carny expression. There’s always a booth on the carnival midway where the mayor or the school principal sticks his face through a hole in the canvas, and all the kids throw water balloons at him for a quarter. You just stuck your face through the canvas. Everybody’s going to be throwing water balloons at you on this one, from the commanding general on down.”

  “Hollaway is talking about questioning Parks.”

  “You don’t consider him a suspect, do you?”

  “Not yet. We’re going to talk to anybody she dated, and he’s on the list. He’s going to have to account for his whereabouts the night she was killed.”

  “You think she knew the guy who killed her.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Parks is a pretty good guy. He’s got a little time in grade, so he’s not green around the gills like most of the platoon leaders I’ve had. He’s got a temper, though. Sometimes the littlest thing can really set him off.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like yesterday, when we were getting ready for the parade, one of the troops spilled a can of Brasso. It made a big stain on the floor. The kid cleaned it up, but Parks comes through the platoon and sees the stain, and he lit into that kid like he’d just lost his weapon or something. He’s a real stickler for neatness. It’s hell getting that platoon ready for Saturday inspections with him hanging over your shoulder.”

  “Have you ever heard him talk about women? Like, you know, guy talk.”

  “Almost everything between him and the platoon is strictly military. But I used to hear him talking on the phone. He was really gone on her. I know something happened between them, because he stopped calling her and he seemed real depressed there for a while.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I’ve had other lieutenants have a girl walk out on them. It’s not a pretty sight.” He leaned back on her bed and crooked his finger at her, grinning. “C’mere. We’ve got time.”

  She laughed. “The way you are, you bet we do.”

  “You’re asking for it.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to him and licked her navel.

  “I was just teasing, Mace.”

  “You should have thought about that before.”

  “I haven’t got much time.”

  “Then tell me that you love me before you go.”

  She looked down at him. She took his face in her hands and kissed him. Looking in his eyes, she said: “It’s not that easy, Mace. It’s going to take some time.”

  “Why?”

  “You never told me, for one.”

  “I love you. You know that.”

  “See what I mean? It’s easier for guys.”

  “I thought we were the ones who were supposed to be so afraid of commitment.”

  She stood there looking at him. He was right. It was supposed to be easier for girls.

  “I just need some time, I guess.”

  “How much time?”

  “I don’t know. I have got to finish getting ready and go.”

  “Oh. Excuse me. This big-time party you’ve got is more important than what’s going on with you and me.”

  She put on her dress shirt. “Don’t do that, Mace.”

  “Why not? It seems like every time there’s something that pulls us together, there’s something that pulls us apart.”

  “This is work. I don’t yell at you when you tell me you’ve got to work all night getting ready to go to the field, do I?”

  He looked at her and his big lashes worked up and down and he dropped his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to do anything that’s going to hurt us.”

  “There’s beer and food in the fridge. Stay. Fix yourself something to eat. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  He grinned. “Hell, I was just going to knock of
f a piece and head back to the barracks, but now I think I’ll stick around.”

  She laughed and kissed him on the lips and he held her close and she felt her shoulders start to let go and she started to droop into his arms until she remembered she was in her dress blues and she had to go. She pulled gently away.

  “I’m going to be late.”

  “If I was an officer,” Mace said to her back, “I’d walk in there with you, and the two of us in our blues, we’d make their eyes bleed.”

  She stopped at the front door. “You’ll be here, won’t you? When I get back?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m sorry, Mace. It’s just that—”

  “I’m worried, Major. Every swingin’ dick on this post is going to be after you, the way you look tonight.”

  “Well, you keep that dick of yours in a non-swinging mode for two hours, and we’ll discuss this entire matter when I get back. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  Bradley fighting vehicles from the 24th Infantry lined the drive to the officers club, headlights on, a squad standing at attention in full field gear next to each track. Each squad member had three flashlights, filtered red, white, and blue, attached to his web gear in a horizontal row. Their fresh young faces shone brightly in the headlights of the Bradleys across from them.

  Beckwith, thought Kara as she drove past the Bradleys. He’s pulling out all the stops tonight.

  She found a spot for the Cherokee and wound her way through the crowded parking lot to the front of the club. Two Humvees were parked on either side of the entrance. Each was fitted with a Xenon spotlight. Their twin beams crossed above the door. Inside, infantry blue bunting was swagged in huge billowing loops, held aloft by crossed M-16 rifles mounted on the walls. A young lieutenant directed her into the ballroom, where the receiving line had formed against one wall. She waited her turn, and passed through the line. General Beckwith and his wife stood to one side of the Sec Def, General King and his wife to the other. It was the first time she had met Mrs. Beckwith, an attractive woman wearing what appeared to be a well-practiced if weary smile. Kara said hello to each of the dignitaries and moved quickly down the line. When she reached the end, she headed directly for the bar, where she found Lannie seated at the far end.