Skip told Dearie and Dearie’s new friends how we’d seen Stoke heading toward the Palace on the Plains from the third-floor lounge windows, how he’d fallen into the water, how we’d rescued him and taken him to the infirmary, how the doctor had said Stoke was one sick puppy. The doc hadn’t said any such thing, but he didn’t need to. Those of us who had touched Stake’s skin knew that he was running a fever, and all of us had heard that horrible deep cough. Skip said nothing about how fast Stoke had been moving, as if he wanted to kill the whole world and then die himself, and he said nothing about how we’d laughed, Mark St Pierre so hard he’d wet his pants.
When Skip finished, Dearie glanced uncertainly at Ebersole. Ebersole looked back blandly.
Behind them, Dean Garretsen continued to smile his little Buddha smile. The implication was clear. It was Dearie’s show. He’d better have a show to put on.
Dearie took a deep breath and looked back at us. ‘We believe Stokely Jones was responsible for the act of vandalism and public obscenity which was perpetrated on the north end of Chamberlain Hall at a time we don’t know when this morning.’
I’m telling you exactly what he said, not making a single word of it up. Other than ‘It became necessary to destroy the village in order to save it,’ that was perhaps the most sublime
example of honchospeak I ever heard in my life.
I believe Dearie expected us to ooh and aah like the extras in a Perry Mason courtroom finale, where the revelations start coming thick and fast. Instead we were silent. Skip watched closely, and when he saw Dearie draw in another deep breath for the next pronouncement, he said: ‘What makes you think it was him, Dearie?’
Although I’m not completely sure — I never asked him — I believe Skip used the nickname purposely, to throw Dearie even further off his stride. In any case it worked. Dearie started to go off, looked at Ebersole, and recalculated his options. A red line was rising out of his collar. I watched it climb, fascinated. It was a little like watching a Disney cartoon where Donald Duck is trying to control his temper. You know he can’t possibly do it; the suspense comes from not knowing how long he can maintain even a semblance of reason.
‘I think you know the answer to that, Skip,’ Dearie finally said. ‘Stokely Jones wears a coat with a very particular symbol on the back.’ He picked up the folder he had carried in, removed a sheet of paper, looked at it, then turned it around so we could look at it, too. None of us was very surprised by what was there. ‘ This symbol. It was invented by the Communist Party shortly after the end of the Second World War. It means ‘victory through infiltration’
and is commonly called the Broken Cross by subversives. It has also become popular with such inner-city radical groups as the Black Muslims and the Black Panthers. Since this symbol was visible on Stoke Jones’s coat long before it appeared on the side of our dorm, I hardly think it takes a rocket scientist to — ‘
‘David, that is such bullshit!’ Nate said, standing up. He was pale and trembling, but with anger rather than fear. Had I ever heard him say the word bullshit in public before? I don’t think so.
Garretsen smiled his benign smile at my roommate. Ebersole raised his eyebrows, expressing polite interest. Dearie looked stunned. I suppose the last person he expected trouble from was Nate Hoppenstand.
‘That symbol is based on British semaphore and stands for nuclear disarmament. It was invented by a famous British philosopher. I think he might even be a knight. To say the Russians made it up! Goodness’ sake! Is that what they teach you in ROTC? Bullshit like that?’
Nate was staring at Dearie angrily, his hands planted on his hips. Dearie gaped at him, now completely knocked off his stride. Yes, they had taught him that in ROTC, and he had swallowed it hook, line, and sinker. It made you wonder what else the ROTC kids were swallowing.