Child, Lee – The Enemy

machine parked at its door. It had a pay phone on the wall and

worn linoleum on the floor and a waist-high counter boxed in

with the sort of fake wood panelling people use in their basements.

The clerk was on a high stool behind it. He was a white

guy of about twenty with long unwashed hair and a weak chin.

‘Happy New Year,’ I said.

He didn’t reply.

‘You take anything out of the dead guy’s room?’ I asked.

He shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Tell me again.’

‘I didn’t take anything.’

I nodded. I believed him.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘When did he check in?’

23

‘I don’t know. I came on at ten. He was already here.’

I nodded again. Kramer was in the rental lot at Dulles at one

thirty-two and he hadn’t driven enough miles to do much of

anything except come straight here, in which case he was

checking in around seven thirty. Maybe eight thirty, if he

stopped for dinner somewhere. Maybe nine, if he was an exceptionally

cautious driver.

‘Did he use the pay phone at all?’

‘It’s busted.’

‘So how did he get hold of the hooker?’

‘What hooker?’

‘The hooker he was poking when he died.’

‘No hookers here.’

‘Did he go over and get her from the lounge bar?’

‘He was way the hell down the row. I didn’t see what he

did.’

‘You got a driver’s licence?’

The guy paused. ‘Why?’

‘Simple question,’ I said. ‘Either you do or you don’t.’

‘I got a licence,’ he said.

‘Show me,’ I said.

I was bigger than his Coke machine and all covered in badges

and ribbons and he did what he was told, like most skinny

twenty-year-olds do when I use that tone. He eased his butt up

off the stool and reached back and came out with a wallet from

his hip pocket. Flipped it open. His DL was behind a milky

plastic window. It had his photograph on it, and his name, and

his address.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Now I know where you live. I’ll be back later

with some questions. If I don’t find you here I’ll come and find

you at home.’

He said nothing to me. I turned away and pushed out through

the door and went back to my Humvee to wait.

Forty minutes later a military meat wagon and another Humvee

showed up. I told my guys to grab everything including the

rental car but didn’t wait around to watch them do it. I headed

back to base instead. I logged in and got back to my borrowed

office and told my sergeant to get me Garber on the phone. I

24

waited at my desk for the call to come through. It took less than

two minutes.

‘What’s the story?’ he asked.

‘His name was Kramer,’ I said.

‘I know that,’ Garber said. ‘I spoke to the police dispatcher

after I spoke to you. What happened to him?’

‘Heart attack,’ I said. ‘During consensual sex with a

prostitute. In the kind of motel a fastidious cockroach would

take pains to avoid.’

There was a long silence.

‘Shit,’ Garber said. ‘He was married.’

‘Yes, I saw his wedding band. And his West Point ring.’

‘Class of ‘fifty-two,’ Garber said. ‘I checked.’

The phone went quiet.

‘Shit,’ he said again. ‘Why do smart people pull stupid stunts

like this?’

I didn’t answer, because I didn’t know.

‘We’ll need to be discreet,’ Garber said.

‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘The cover-up is already started. The

locals let me send him to Walter Reed.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘That’s good.’ Then he paused. ‘From the

beginning, OK?’

‘He was wearing XI! Corps patches,’ I said. ‘Means he

was based in Germany. He flew into Dulles yesterday. From

Frankfurt, probably. Civilian flight, for sure, because he was

wearing Class As, hoping for an upgrade. He would have worn

BDUs on a military flight. He rented a cheap car and drove two

hundred ninety-eight miles and checked into a fifteen-dollar

motel room and picked up a twenty-dollar hooker.’

‘I know about the flight,’ Garber said. ‘I called XII Corps and

spoke with his staff. I told them he was dead.’

‘When?’

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