“A weather front’s moved in and you should knowit as well as I do. “
“My meteorologists say it’s completely f gable!”
“I suspect if you asked for that finding during aBurma monsoon they’d deliver it”
“That’s gross insubordination!”
“This is my ship and military regulations are quiteclear as to who’s in command here.”
“Do you want to connect me to your radioroom?l’ll reach the Oval Of dice and we’ll see just howlong you’ve got this ship!”
“I’m sure you’ll want to speak privately probablyover a scrambler. I’ll have you escorted there.”
“Goddamn you, I’ve got four thousandtroops maybe twenty percent seasoned moving upinto Sector Five! We need a low-altitude combinedstrike from land and sea and weal have it if I have toget your ass out of here within the hour!And I can doit, Captain!. . . We’re over here to win, win, and win itall! We don “t need sugarcoated Nellies hedging theirgoddamned bets! Maybe you never heard it before, butall war is a risk! You don ”t win if you don "t risk, Caplain!”
“I’ve been there, General. Common sense cutslosses, and if you cut enough losses you can win thenext battle. “
“I’m going to win this one, with or without you,Blue Boy!”
“I respectfuUy advise you to temper your language,General. “
“You what?” Delavane’s face was contorted in fury,his eyes the eyes of a savage wild animal. “You adviseme? You advise Command-Saigon! Well, you dowhatever you like Blue Boy in yoursatin pants butthe incursion up into the Tho Valley is on.”
“The Tho,”interrupted Converse. “That’s the first legof the Pak Song route. We’ve hit it four times. I knowthe terrain. “
“You know it9″shouted Delawne.
“I do, but I take my orders from the commanderof this ship General. “
“You prissy shit-kicker, you take orders from thePresident of the United States!He’s your commander inchief7And I’ll get those orders!”
Delavane’s face was inches from Joel’s, themaniacal expression challenging every nerve ending inJoel ’s body: hatred matched by loathing Barelyrealising the words were
his, Converse spoke. “I, too, would advise the Generalto be careful of his language.”
“Why, shit-kicker? Has Blue Boy got this place wired?”
“Easy, Lieutenant! I said you were dismissed!”
“You want me to watch my language, big fellawithyour little silver bar? No, sonny boy, you watch it, andyou read it! If that squadron of yours isn "t in the air atfifteen hand red hours, I’ll label this carrier the biggestyellow streak in Southeast Asia! You got that,satin-pantsed Blue Boy, third class?”
Once moreloel replied, wondering as he spokewhere he found the audacity. “I don’t know where youcome from, sir, but I sincerely hope we meet underdifferent circumstances sometime. I think you he a pig“
“Insubordination!Also, I’d break your back.”
“Dismissed, Lieutenant!”
“No, Captain, you’re wrong!” shouted the general.“He may be the man to lead this strike, after all. Well,what’ll it be, Blue Boys? Airborne, or the President ofthe United States or the label?”
At 1520 hours Converse led the squadron off thecarrier deck. At 1538, as they headed at low altitudeinto the weather, the f rst two casualties occurred overthe coastline; the wing planes were shot down at six hundred miles an hour in the air. At 15461 his right engine exploded, his altitude made thedirect hit easy. At 1546:30, unable to stabilise, Converseejected into the downpour of the storm clouds, hisparachute instantly swept into the vortex of theconflicting winds. As he swung violently down towardthe earth, the straps digging into his flesh with eachwhipping buffet, one image kept repeating its presencewithin the darkness. The maniacal face of GeneralGeorge Marcus Delavane. He was about to begin anindeterminate stay in hell, courtesy of a madman. Andas he later learned, the losses were ink nitely greater onthe ground.
Delavane! The Butcher of Danang and Pleiku.Waster of thousands, throwing battalion afterbattalion into the jungles and the hills with neitheradequate training nor sufficient firepower. Wounded,frightened children had been marched into thecamps, bewildered, trying not to weep and, finallyunderstanding, weeping out of control. The storiesthey told were a thousand variations on the samesickening theme. Inexperi
enced,untried troops had been sent into battlewithin days after disembarkation; the weight ofsheer numbers was expected to vanquish the oftenunseen enemy. And when the numbers did notwork, more numbers were sent. For three yearscommand headquarters listened to a maniac.Delavane! The warlord of Saigon, fabricator of bodycounts, with no acknowledgment of blown-apartfaces and severed limbs, liar and extoller of deathwithout a cause! A man who had proved, finally, tobe too lethal even for the Pentagon zealots azealot who had outdistanced his own, in the endrevolting his own. He had been recalled andretired only to write diatribes read by fanatics whofed their own personal furies.
Men like that can’t be allowed anymore, don "t youunderstand? He was the enemy, Otis enemy! Thosehad been Converse’s own words, shouted in a feverof outrage before a panel of uniformed questionerswho had looked at each other avoiding him, notwanting to respond to those words. They hadthanked him perfunctorily, told him that the nationawed him and thousands like him a great debt, andwith regard to his final comments he should try tounderstand that there were often many sides to anissue, and that the complex execution of commandfrequently was not what it appeared to be. In anyevent, the President had called upon the nation tobind its wounds; what good was served by fuelingold controversies? And then the final kicker, thethreat.
“You yourself briefly assumed the terribleresponsibility of leadership, Lieutenant,” said apale-faced Navy lawyer, barely glancing at Joel, hiseyes scanning the pages of a file folder. “Before youmade your final and successful escape by yourself,from a pit in the ground away from the maincamp you led two previous attempts involving atotal of seventeen prisoners of war. Fortunately yousurvived, but eight men did not. I’m sure that you,as their leader, their tactician, never anticipated acasualty risk of nearly fifty percent. It’s been saidoften, but perhaps not often enough: command isawesome, Lieutenant.”
Translation: Don’t join the freaks, soldier. Yousurvived, but eight were killed. Were therecircumstances the military is not aware of, tactics thatprotected some more than others, one more thanothers: One man who managed to break out byhimself eluding guards that shot on sight prisoners onthe loose at night? Merely to raise the question bymOpening a specific file will produce a stigma thatwillfollow you
for the rest of your life. Back oft; soldier. We’ve got youby simply raising a question we all know should not beraised, but we’ll do it because we’ve taken enough }yak.We’ll cut it off wherever we can. Be ha ppy yousurvived and got out. Now, get out.
At that moment, Converse had been as close toconsciously throwing away his life as he would everhave thought possible. Physically assaulting thatpanel of sanctimonious hypocrites had not been outof the question, until he studied the face of eachman, his peripheral gaze taking in rows of tunicribbons, battle stars on most. Then a strange thinghad happened: disgust, revulsion andcompassion swept over him. These were panickedmen, a number having committed their lives to theircountry’s practice of war . . . only to have beenconned, as he had been conned. If to protect whatwas decent meant protecting the worst, who was tosay they were wrong? Where were the saints? Or thesinners? Could there be any of either when all werevictims?
Disgust, however, won out. Lieutenant JoelConverse, USNR, could not bring himself to give afinal salute to that council of his superiors. Insilence, he had turned, with no military bearingwhatsoever, and walked out of the room as if he hadpointedly spat on the Hoor.
A flash of light again from the boulevard, ablinding echo of the sun from the Quai du MontBlanc. He was in Geneva, not in a North Vietnamesecamp holding children who vomited while tellingtheir stories, or in San Diego being separated
fromthe United States Navy. He was in Geneva, and theman sitting across the table knew everything he wasthinking and feeling.
“Why me?” whispered Joel.
“Because, as they say,” said Halliday, “you couldbe motivated. That’s the simple answer. A story wastold. The captain of your aircraft carrier refused toput his planes in the air for the strike that Delavanedemanded. Several storms had moved in; he calledit suicidal. But Delavane forced him to, threatenedto call the macho White House and have the captainstripped of his command. You led that strike. It’swhere you got it.”
“I’m alive,” said Converse Hatly. “Twelve hundredkids never saw the next day and maybe a thousandmore wished they never had.”
“And you were in the captain’s quarters whenMad Marcus Delavane made his threats and calledthe shots.”
“I was there,” agreed Converse, no comment inhis voice. Then he shook his head in bewilderment."Everything I told you about myself you’ve heardit before.”
“Read it before,” corrected the lawyer fromCalifornia. “Like you and I think we’re the best inthe business under fifty I don’t put a hell of a lotof stock in the written word. I have to hear a voice,or see a face.”
“I didn’t answer you.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“But you have to answer me now. You’re nothere for Comm Tech-Bern, are you?”
”Yes, that part’s true,” said Halliday. “Only theSwiss didn’t come to me, I went to them. I’ve beenwatching you, waiting for the moment. It had to bethe right one, perfectly natural, geographicallylogical.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“Because I’m being watched…. Rosen did have astroke. I heard about it, contacted Bern, and madea plausible case for myself.”
“Your reputation was enough.”
“It helped, but I needed more. I said we kneweach other, that we went way back which Godknows was true and as much as I respected you, Iimplied that you were extremely astute with finals,and that I was familiar with your methods. I also putmy price high enough.”
“An irresistible combination for the Swiss,” saidConverse.
“I’m glad you approve.”
“But I don’t,” contradicted Joel. “I don’t approveof you at all, least of all your methods. You haven’ttold me anything, just made cryptic remarks aboutan unidentified group of people you say aredangerous, and brought up the name of a man youknew would provoke a response. Maybe you’re justa freak, after all, still pushing that safe Yippeelabel.”
“Calling someone a "freak’ is subjectivelyprejudicial in the extreme, counselor, and would bestricken from the record.”
“Still, the point’s been made with the jury,lawyer-man,” said Converse quietly but with anger.“And I’m making it now.”
“Don’t prejudge the safety,” continued Halliday in a
voice that was equally quiet. “I’m not safe, andoutside of a proclivity for cowardice, there’s a wifeand five children back in San Francisco I care deeplyabout.”
“So you come to me because I have nosuch what was it? priority entanglements?”
“I came to you because you’re invisible, you’renot involved, and because you’re the best, and I can’tdo ill legally can’t do it, and it’s got to be donelegally.”
" Why don’t you say what you mean?” demandedConverse. “Because if you don’t I’m getting up andwe’ll see each other later across a table.”
“I represented Delavane,” said Halliday quickly.“God help me I didn’t know what I was doing, andvery few people approved, but I made a point weused to make all the time. Unpopular causes andpeople also deserve representation.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“You don’t know the cause. I do. I found out.”
"What cause?”
Halliday leaned forward. “The generals,” he said,his voice barely audible. “They’re coming back.”
Joel looked closely at the Californian. “Fromwhere? I didn’t know they’d been away.”
“From the past,” said Halliday. “From years ago.”
Converse sat back in the chair, now amused.“Good Lord, I thought your kind were extinct. Areyou talking about the Pentagon menace, Press it is"Press,’ isn’t it? The San Francisco short-form, or wasit from Haight-Ashbury, or the Beverly Hillssomething or other? You’re a little behind the times;you already stormed the Presidio.”
“Please, don’t make jokes. I’m not joking.”
“Of course not. It’s Seven Days in May, or is itFive Days in August? It’s August now, so let’s call itThe Old-Time Guns of August. Nice ring, I think.”
“Stop ill There’s nothing remotely funny, and ifthere were, I’d find it before you did.”
“That’s a comment, I suppose,” said.Joel.
“You’re goddamned right it is, because I didn’t gothrough what you went through. I stayed out of it, Iwasn’t conned, and that means I can laugh at fanaticsbecause they never hurt me, and I still think it’s thebest ammunition against them. But not now. There’snothing to laugh at nowl”
“Permit me a small chuckle,” said Conversewithout smiling. “Even in my most paranoid momentsI never subscribed
to the conspiracy theory that has the militaryrunning Washington. It couldn’t happen.”
“It might be less apparent than in othercountries, but that’s all I’ll grant you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It would undoubtedly be much more obvious inIsrael, certainly in Johannesburg, quite possibly inFrance and Bonn, even the UK none of themtakes its pretences that seriously. But I supposeyou’ve got a point. Washington will drape theconshtubonal robes around itself until they becomethreadbare and fall away revealing a uniform,incidentally.”
Joel stared at the face in front of him. You’renot joking, are you? And you’re too bright to try tosnow me.”
“Or con you,” added Halliday. “Not after thatlabel I wore while watching you in pajamas halfwayacross the world. I couldn’t do it.”
“I think I believe you…. You menhoned severalcountries, specific countries. Some aren’t speaking,others barely; a few have bad blood and worsememories. On purpose?”
“Yes,” nodded the Californian. “It doesn’t makeany difference because the group I’m talking aboutthinks it has a cause that will ultimately unite themall. And run them all their way.”
“The generals?”
“And admirals, and brigadiers, and fieldmarshals old soldiers who pitched their tents in theright camp. So far right there’s been no label sincethe Reichstag.”
“Come on, Avery!” Converse shook his head inexasperabon. “A bunch of tired old warhorses “
“Recruiting and indoctrinating young, hard,capable new commanders,” interrupted Halliday.
” coughing their last bellows.” Joel stopped.“Have you proof of that?” he asked, each wordspoken slowly.
“Not enough . . . but with some digging . . .maybe enough.”
“Goddamn it, stop being elliptical.”
“Among the possible recruits, twenty or sonames at the State Department and the Pentagon,”said Halliday. “Men who clear export licenses andwho spend millions upon millions because they’reallowed to spend it, all of which, naturally, widensany circle of friends.”
“And influence,” stated Converse. “What aboutLondon, Paris, and Bonn Johannesburg and TelAviv?”
“Again names.”
“How firm?”
They were there, l saw them myself. It was anaccident. How many have taken an oath I don’tknow, but they were there, and their stripes fit thephilosophical pattern.”
" The Reichstag?”
More encompassing. A global Third Reich. Allthey need is a Hitler.”
Where does Delavane fit in?”
He may anoint one. He may designate the Fuhrer.”
That’s ridiculous. Who’d take him seriously?”
He was taken seriously before. You saw the results.”
That
was then, not now. You’re not answeringthe question.”
- Men who thought he was right before, and don’tfool yourself, they’re out there by the thousands.What’s mind-blowing is that there are a few dozenwith enough seed money to finance his and theirdelusions which, of course, they don’t see asdelusions at all, only as the proper evolution ofcurrent history, all other ideologies having failedmiserably.”
Joel started to speak, then stopped, his thoughtssuddenly altered. "Why haven’t you gone to someonewho can stop them? Stop him.”
Who?”
“I shouldn’t have to tell you that. Any number ofpeople in the government elected andappointed and more than a dozen departments. Forstarters, there’s Justice.”
“I’d be laughed out of Washington,” said Halliday.“Beyond the fact that we have no proof as I told you,just names, suppositions don’t forget that Yippielabel I once wore. They’d pin it on me again and tellme to get lost.”
“But you represented Delavane.”
“Which only compounds the problem byintroducing the legal aspects. I shouldn’t have to tellyou that.”
“The lawyer-client relationship.” Converse nodded.“You’re in a morass before you can make a charge.Unless you’ve got hard evidence against your client,proof that he’s going to commit further crimes andthat you’re aiding the commission of those crimes bykeeping silent.”
" Which proof I don’t have,” interrupted theCalifornian.
“Then no one will touch you,” added Joel.“Especially ambitious lawyers at Justice; they don’twant their postgov
ernment avenues cut off. As you say, the Delavanesof this world have their constituencies.”
“Exactly,’ agreed Halliday. “And when I beganasking questions and tried to reach Delavane, hewouldn’t see me or talk to me. Instead, I got aletter telling me I was fired, that if he had knownwhat I was he never would have retained me."Smoking dope and screaming curses while braveyoung men answered their country’s call.’”
Converse whistled softly. “And you think youweren’t connedP You provide legal services for him,a structure he can use for all intents and purposeswithin the law, and if anything smells, you’re the lastperson who can blow the whistle. He drapes the oldsoldier’s flag around himself and calls you a vin-dictive freak.”
The Aquaintaine Progession Page 3