He’s mad as hell.’
‘What are the orders?’
He ducked back to his desk and offered me a sheet of
fax paper. The phones kept on ringing. I didn’t take the sheet
of paper. I just stood there and read it over my corporal’s
shoulder. There were two closely spaced paragraphs. Willard
was ordering me to examine the quartermaster’s inward
delivery note file and his outward distribution log. I was to use
them to work out on paper exactly what ought to be there in the
on-post warehouse. Then I was to verify my conclusion by
means of a practical search. Then I was to compile a list of all
missing items and propose a course of action in writing to track
down their current whereabouts. I was to execute the order in a
prompt and timely fashion. I was to call him to confirm receipt
of the order immediately it was in my hand.
It was a classic make-work punishment. In the bad old days
they ordered you to paint coal white or fill sandbags with
teaspoons or scrub floors with toothbrushes. This was the
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modern-day MP equivalent. It was a mindless task that would
take two weeks to complete. I smiled.
The phones were still ringing.
‘The order was never in my hand,’ I said. ‘I’m not here.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Tell him someone dropped a gum wrapper in the flower bed
outside the post commander’s office. Tell him I won’t have army
real estate abused in that way. Tell him I’ve been on the trail
since well before dawn.’
I led Summer back out onto the sidewalk, away from the
ringing phones.
‘Asshole,’ I said.
‘You should lie low,’ she said. ‘He’ll be calling all over.’
I stood still. Looked around. Cold weather. Grey buildings,
grey sky.
‘Let’s take the day off,’ I said. ‘Let’s go somewhere.’
‘We’ve got things to do.’
I nodded. Carbone. Krarner. Brubaker.
‘Can’t stay here,’ I said. ‘So we can’t do much about Carbone.’
‘Want to go down to Columbia?’
‘Not our case,’ I said. ‘Nothing we can do that Sanchez isn’t
doing.’
‘Too cold for the beach,’ Summer said.
I nodded again. Suddenly wished it wasn’t too cold for the
beach. I would have liked to see Summer on the beach. In a
bikini. A very small one, for preference.
‘We have to work,’ she said.
I looked south and west, beyond the post buildings. I could
see the trees, cold and dead against the horizon. I could see a
tall pine, dull and dormant, a little nearer. I figured it was close
to where we had found Carbone.
Carbone.
‘Let’s go to Green Valley,’ I said. ‘Let’s visit with Detective
Clark. We could ask him for his crowbar notes. He made a start
for us. So maybe we could finish up. A four-hour drive might be
a good investment at this point.’
‘And four hours back.’
e could have lunch. Maybe dinner. We could go AWOL.’
‘They’d find us.’
245
I shook my head.
‘Nobody would find me,’ I said. ‘Not ever.’
I stayed there on the sidewalk and Summer went away and
came back five minutes later in the green Chevy we had used
before. She pulled in tight to the kerb and buzzed her window
down before I could move.
‘Is this smart?’ she said.
‘It’s all we’ve got,’ I said.
‘No, I mean you’re going to be on the gate log. Time out, ten
thirty. Willard could check it.’
I said nothing. She smiled.
‘You could hide in the trunk,’ she said. ‘You could get out
again when we’re through the gate.’
I shook my head. ‘I’m not going to hide. Not because of an
asshole like Willard. If he checks the log I’ll tell him the hunt
for the gum-wrapper guy suddenly went interstate. Or global,
even. We could go to Tahiti.’
I got in beside her and racked the seat all the way back and
started thinking about bikinis again. She took her foot off the
brake and accelerated down the main drag. Slowed and stopped
at the gate. An MP private came out with a clipboard. He noted
our plate number and we showed him ID. He wrote our names