a weird, apoplectic general screwing up his discharge at the last minute was fading. But that concern was being inexorably replaced with another very genuine fear. Brought about partially by the Hawk’s silence.
“Mac, now that this pile of fleet-kumquats is in my custody, what the hell am I supposed to do with them? Where’s this second transfer taking place?”
“Don’t you know?”
“Of course, not.”
“The general thinks you do.”
“Well, I
don’t
!”
“You want to go back and ask him, Sam? Personally, I don’t recommend it. Not with the way he feels about you. Je
sus
! He might dig up all kinds of very serious violations. And you just got your picture taken. One thing always leads to another, you know what I mean? Like the domino theory. Your trial could last for a year or two.”
“
What the hell’s in here, Hawkins?
Don’t bullshit me! What
is it
?”
“Sorry, Sam. I’m afraid I can’t discuss it. You understand, boy. It’s classified.”
Sam sat forward on the couch, his arm stretched out over the coffee table. MacKenzie manipulated the hacksaw back and forth over the chain.
“Once I get this goddamned chain off, we can work on the lock,” said Mac comfortingly. “It would be easier with a small blowtorch.”
“Not on
my
arteries, you son of a bitch! And thanks for not telling me you didn’t have the combination.”
“Now, don’t worry, I’ll have it off in ten or fifteen minutes. The steel’s a touch harder than I figured.”
An hour and fourteen minutes later the last links were severed, leaving one dangling chain and a triple combination lock around Devereaux’s wrist.
“I’ve got to get in touch with my office,” Sam said. “They’ll expect me to check in.”
“No, they won’t. You’re with me. Covering my Seven Seven Five. That’s what the agreement states. One day minimum, three days maximum.”
“But we’re not there.”
“We went to lunch.…” MacKenzie cleared his throat.
“I should still telephone—–”
“
Goddamn
, you’ve no faith in me at
all
! Why the hell do you think I waited until this morning before going to G-two? You’ve got one day left and
I
account for your time. You can’t get in trouble if you’re not
there
.”
“Of course not. No trouble—just a firing squad.”
“Nonsense.” Hawkins got up from the floor, carrying the freed briefcase to the hotel writing desk. “You’re safer with me. I know those IG close-outs. You think you’re winding everything up and some pricky-shit waltzes in and tells you you’re not going anywhere until some brief is completed.”
Devereaux looked over at the general, now snapping the G-2 bands and opening the expensive briefcase. There was logic in Mac’s madness. There
was
sure to be some ball-breaking file or other that a confused superior did not care to have left in his lap. A memorandum could be misplaced—or not read. A confrontation, even a discussion,between legal officers could not be overlooked. Hawkins definitely had a point: Sam was safer away from the office.
MacKenzie removed several hundred Xeroxed pages and put them on the desk beside the briefcase. Devereaux pointed to them and spoke cautiously, “That’s all
your
Seven Seven Five?”
“Well, not actually. A lot of it’s open stuff that’s never been closed out.”
Sam was suddenly more uncomfortable than he had been for the past three hours. “Wait a minute. You said back at G-two that it was just raw material on people you’d run across.”
“Or people
other
people ran across. I added that, son, I really did. You were just so upset you didn’t listen.”
“Oh, Christ! You removed raw files on subjects that weren’t
yours
?”
“No, Sam,” replied the Hawk as he squared off some pages. “
You
did. It says so right at the security desk. Your signature.”
Devereaux sank back in the couch. “You devious son of a bitch.”
“That kind of says it,” agreed Hawkins sadly. “There were times
“Mac, now that this pile of fleet-kumquats is in my custody, what the hell am I supposed to do with them? Where’s this second transfer taking place?”
“Don’t you know?”
“Of course, not.”
“The general thinks you do.”
“Well, I
don’t
!”
“You want to go back and ask him, Sam? Personally, I don’t recommend it. Not with the way he feels about you. Je
sus
! He might dig up all kinds of very serious violations. And you just got your picture taken. One thing always leads to another, you know what I mean? Like the domino theory. Your trial could last for a year or two.”
“
What the hell’s in here, Hawkins?
Don’t bullshit me! What
is it
?”
“Sorry, Sam. I’m afraid I can’t discuss it. You understand, boy. It’s classified.”
Sam sat forward on the couch, his arm stretched out over the coffee table. MacKenzie manipulated the hacksaw back and forth over the chain.
“Once I get this goddamned chain off, we can work on the lock,” said Mac comfortingly. “It would be easier with a small blowtorch.”
“Not on
my
arteries, you son of a bitch! And thanks for not telling me you didn’t have the combination.”
“Now, don’t worry, I’ll have it off in ten or fifteen minutes. The steel’s a touch harder than I figured.”
An hour and fourteen minutes later the last links were severed, leaving one dangling chain and a triple combination lock around Devereaux’s wrist.
“I’ve got to get in touch with my office,” Sam said. “They’ll expect me to check in.”
“No, they won’t. You’re with me. Covering my Seven Seven Five. That’s what the agreement states. One day minimum, three days maximum.”
“But we’re not there.”
“We went to lunch.…” MacKenzie cleared his throat.
“I should still telephone—–”
“
Goddamn
, you’ve no faith in me at
all
! Why the hell do you think I waited until this morning before going to G-two? You’ve got one day left and
I
account for your time. You can’t get in trouble if you’re not
there
.”
“Of course not. No trouble—just a firing squad.”
“Nonsense.” Hawkins got up from the floor, carrying the freed briefcase to the hotel writing desk. “You’re safer with me. I know those IG close-outs. You think you’re winding everything up and some pricky-shit waltzes in and tells you you’re not going anywhere until some brief is completed.”
Devereaux looked over at the general, now snapping the G-2 bands and opening the expensive briefcase. There was logic in Mac’s madness. There
was
sure to be some ball-breaking file or other that a confused superior did not care to have left in his lap. A memorandum could be misplaced—or not read. A confrontation, even a discussion,between legal officers could not be overlooked. Hawkins definitely had a point: Sam was safer away from the office.
MacKenzie removed several hundred Xeroxed pages and put them on the desk beside the briefcase. Devereaux pointed to them and spoke cautiously, “That’s all
your
Seven Seven Five?”
“Well, not actually. A lot of it’s open stuff that’s never been closed out.”
Sam was suddenly more uncomfortable than he had been for the past three hours. “Wait a minute. You said back at G-two that it was just raw material on people you’d run across.”
“Or people
other
people ran across. I added that, son, I really did. You were just so upset you didn’t listen.”
“Oh, Christ! You removed raw files on subjects that weren’t
yours
?”
“No, Sam,” replied the Hawk as he squared off some pages. “
You
did. It says so right at the security desk. Your signature.”
Devereaux sank back in the couch. “You devious son of a bitch.”
“That kind of says it,” agreed Hawkins sadly. “There were times
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