The Hunting Trip by III William E. Butterworth Page B

duffel bag and get on the plane to Fort Benning.
    â€œBe prepared to say
Auf Wiedersehen, Berlin,
you miserable Protestant sexual degenerate.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€”
    Phil was driven to Colonel Caldwell’s office in an olive-drab Volkswagen by the field first sergeant, a huge bull of a man who was not known for his intellectual ability.
    He guided Phil with a massive hand on his arm into a building in the
kaserne
housing the Office of the Chief, Military Government, and then into an office with a sign identifying it as the Office of Liaison Coordination, and finally into an office with a sign identifying it as the Office of the Deputy Liaison Coordination Coordinator.
    It was empty.
    The “field first,” as he was known to his underlings, sat Phil down in a straight-backed chair beside a desk with a sign that identified it as that of Captain J. K. Brewster, Cavalry.
    â€œStay there, EXPLETIVE DELETED!! head. Somebody will come and get you.”
    â€œYes, Field First.”
    After several minutes, Phil’s eye naturally wandered.
    It fell upon the “Out” basket on Captain Brewster’s desk. He quickly averted his glance as a document in the “Out” basket was stamped Top Secret and it seemed pretty clear to Phil that the loss of his Top Secret clearance was looming, if it had not already been jerked.
    A minute or so later, reasoning he didn’t
know
that his Top Secret clearance had been jerked, only that it seemed entirely likely, he had another look in the “Out” basket. On the document’s cover sheet was a red-lead pencil. Phil picked it up to get it out of the way and then lifted the cover sheet.
    His eyes widened as he read what was typed on the sheet under the cover sheet:
    TOP SECRET
    From: J. F. Caldwell III, Station Chief, Berlin
    To: (EYES ONLY)
    Hon. Ralph Peters
    Deputy Director for Soviet Affairs
    Central Intelligence Agency
    Langley, Virginia
    Via: By Hand of Armed Officer Courier
    Subject: Report of Successful Recruitment of NKGB Colonel Vladimir Polshov
    TOP SECRET
    I really shouldn’t be reading this,
Phil thought,
whether or not my Top Secret clearance has been jerked.
    But on the other hand, it can’t be the real thing.
    The real thing wouldn’t be lying around in an “Out” basket in an empty office.
    Probably it’s only a sample, an example of how this sort of thing should be done.
    And this is as close as I’m ever going to get in my life to even an example of how a real one should be done.
    He took the document from the “Out” basket and put it in his lap, and then, without thinking about it, picked up the red pencil. Then he began to slowly examine the document.
    He was so engaged ten minutes later when someone came into the office.
    â€œWell, I must say this, young fellow,” the newcomer, apleasant-looking gentleman in his late thirties, said, “I like your taste in sports jackets.”
    Phil was momentarily confused until he realized that both he and the man were wearing identical sports jackets, light brown herringbone tweed with brown calf leather sewn into the seams. Phil recalled the J. Press salesman having told him it was—they were—called the “Skull and Bones Two Button with Leather.”
    â€œAnd I admire yours, sir.”
    â€œWhat are you doing in here, son?” the man asked. “And what is that in your lap?”
    Phil held it up and showed him.
    The man snatched it from his hands.
    â€œWhere did you get this?”
    â€œIt was in the ‘Out’ basket, sir.”
    â€œAnd what are you doing with it?” the man asked, and before Phil could reply, asked, as if of himself, “And what are these notations in red pencil?”
    â€œSir, they indicate the six ambiguities and four grammatical errors I found. I didn’t have time to get all the way through it, of course.”
    â€œWhy were you looking for ambiguities and grammatical