Ronald repeatedly bipping the engine. An Air Force sentry came forward and said, ‘Identification, please?’ His face under his white steel helmet was as bland as a bowlful of hominy, but there was a tensile twang in his voice which made it clear that nobody was going to get past here without all the proper passes, especially an Indian in black leather and a skinny guy with a face as white as Stan Laurel’s from the 100 mph wind.
‘I came to see Major William Monahan,’ said Daniel. ‘He told me this morning he was going to be working in the armoury. Maybe you could call him up and tell him I’m here.’
The sentry said, ‘What’s your name please? Do you have any identification?’
Daniel reached into his back pants pocket and handed the sentry his Social Security card. The sentry peered at it from beneath his helmet, and said, ‘Daniel F. Korvitz?’
That’s right.’
‘Okay, then, hold on for just one moment.’ The sentry went back to his brightly-lit office and picked up the telephone. He seemed to be talking to someone for almost five minutes, and meanwhile Daniel and Ronald waited for him, still astride the motorcycle, under the dazzling floods which illuminated the air base gates.
‘I’ve been meaning to ask you something,’ said Daniel, as they waited.
‘What’s that?’
‘Who’s this Ah-jon-jon? The guy you’ve got on your T-shirt?’
‘You never heard of Ah-jon-jon? He was an Assinboin Indian who went to Washington and met President Andrew Jackson. He was so impressed by the white man’s
ways that he abandoned his buckskins and his feathers and dressed himself up like a dandy. Then one day he beat another Indian with his cane because this other Indian doubted his word. It was the kind of thing that he had seen white men doing. The only trouble was, the Indian came back, quite unlike a white man, and shot him dead.’
There’s a moral in that?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. Be yourself, that could be it. Or, don’t try to play the game if nobody else knows the rules.’
Daniel cleared his throat. That’s worth wearing a special T-shirt for?’
‘Maybe.’
The sentry finally put down the telephone, and came back out. He handed Daniel back his Social Security card, and stood looking at him as if he couldn’t quite decide what to say.
‘Well?’ asked Daniel. ‘Is Major Monahan there or isn’t he?’
‘He’s there, sir, but he’s not.’
‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’
The sentry lowered his head so that all Daniel could see below the curved rim of his helmet was his pale-lipped mouth. His mouth said, ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you sir that Major Monahan is dead.’
Daniel felt as if he touched a bare electric wire. A freezing, tingling sensation, not quite real. ‘Dead? What are you talking about? I saw him this morning. They told me on the phone that he hadn’t been around the base all day.’
‘Well, sir, I’m sorry, but there must have been a misunderstanding. He has been here all day. But shortly after 1430 hours, there was an accident, involving Major Monahan and a Hughes helicopter.’
‘He was flying?’
‘No, sir, it was a ground accident. But I’m afraid that’s all I’ve been authorized to tell you. If you leave me your address, somebody from the base will write to you and give you the full details in due course/
Daniel climbed off the motorcycle. He could hardly stand up. Ronald said to him, ‘Daniel, moksois, easy now.’
‘Easy? This guy’s just telling me that Willy’s dead. For Christ’s sake, what happened?’
The bloodless mouth below the rim of the helmet said, ‘I regret that I haven’t been authorized to tell you that, sir. But if you leave me your address -‘
‘Fuck my address, what happened?’
There was a long and terrible silence - almost too long, as if it had been written into a bad, Monday afternoon soap opera. A moth whirred and shone in the air between them, and somewhere on the airbase a jet
‘I came to see Major William Monahan,’ said Daniel. ‘He told me this morning he was going to be working in the armoury. Maybe you could call him up and tell him I’m here.’
The sentry said, ‘What’s your name please? Do you have any identification?’
Daniel reached into his back pants pocket and handed the sentry his Social Security card. The sentry peered at it from beneath his helmet, and said, ‘Daniel F. Korvitz?’
That’s right.’
‘Okay, then, hold on for just one moment.’ The sentry went back to his brightly-lit office and picked up the telephone. He seemed to be talking to someone for almost five minutes, and meanwhile Daniel and Ronald waited for him, still astride the motorcycle, under the dazzling floods which illuminated the air base gates.
‘I’ve been meaning to ask you something,’ said Daniel, as they waited.
‘What’s that?’
‘Who’s this Ah-jon-jon? The guy you’ve got on your T-shirt?’
‘You never heard of Ah-jon-jon? He was an Assinboin Indian who went to Washington and met President Andrew Jackson. He was so impressed by the white man’s
ways that he abandoned his buckskins and his feathers and dressed himself up like a dandy. Then one day he beat another Indian with his cane because this other Indian doubted his word. It was the kind of thing that he had seen white men doing. The only trouble was, the Indian came back, quite unlike a white man, and shot him dead.’
There’s a moral in that?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. Be yourself, that could be it. Or, don’t try to play the game if nobody else knows the rules.’
Daniel cleared his throat. That’s worth wearing a special T-shirt for?’
‘Maybe.’
The sentry finally put down the telephone, and came back out. He handed Daniel back his Social Security card, and stood looking at him as if he couldn’t quite decide what to say.
‘Well?’ asked Daniel. ‘Is Major Monahan there or isn’t he?’
‘He’s there, sir, but he’s not.’
‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’
The sentry lowered his head so that all Daniel could see below the curved rim of his helmet was his pale-lipped mouth. His mouth said, ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you sir that Major Monahan is dead.’
Daniel felt as if he touched a bare electric wire. A freezing, tingling sensation, not quite real. ‘Dead? What are you talking about? I saw him this morning. They told me on the phone that he hadn’t been around the base all day.’
‘Well, sir, I’m sorry, but there must have been a misunderstanding. He has been here all day. But shortly after 1430 hours, there was an accident, involving Major Monahan and a Hughes helicopter.’
‘He was flying?’
‘No, sir, it was a ground accident. But I’m afraid that’s all I’ve been authorized to tell you. If you leave me your address, somebody from the base will write to you and give you the full details in due course/
Daniel climbed off the motorcycle. He could hardly stand up. Ronald said to him, ‘Daniel, moksois, easy now.’
‘Easy? This guy’s just telling me that Willy’s dead. For Christ’s sake, what happened?’
The bloodless mouth below the rim of the helmet said, ‘I regret that I haven’t been authorized to tell you that, sir. But if you leave me your address -‘
‘Fuck my address, what happened?’
There was a long and terrible silence - almost too long, as if it had been written into a bad, Monday afternoon soap opera. A moth whirred and shone in the air between them, and somewhere on the airbase a jet
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