“Certainly,” Perkins said. “You can count on our full cooperation.”
“Now why don’t we have a look at Mr. Fiske’s office,” Chandler said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
* * *
The man glided cat-smooth down the corridor. He was six-foot-three, lean but strongly built, with wide shoulders fanning out from a thick neck. He had a long and narrow face; the skin chestnut brown and smooth, except for deep tracings of lines at the eyes and mouth, like the whorls of a fingerprint. He wore a crumpled Virginia Tech baseball cap. A short-haired black and gray beard outlined his jaw. He was dressed in worn jeans and a faded, sweat-stained denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off a pair of thick, veiny forearms. A pack of Pall Malls poked out of the shirt’s front pocket. He approached the end of the hallway and rounded the corner. As soon as he did so, the soldier sitting next to the doorway of the last room on the hall rose and held up a hand.
“Sorry, sir, this area is off limits to everyone except necessary medical personnel.”
“My brother’s in there,” Joshua Harms said. “And I’m going to see him.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible.”
Harms eyed the soldier’s name tag. “I’m afraid it ain’t, Private Brown. I visit him at the prison all the time. Now you let me in there, you hear me?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, then I’m gonna go round up the head of this hospital and the local police and the damn commandant over at Fort Jackson and tell ’em you refused to allow a family member to visit a dying relative. Then they’ll all take turns kicking your butt on down the road, soldier boy. Did I mention I spent three years in Vietnam and got me enough medals to cover your whole damn body? Now you gonna let me in or we gonna have to go down that other street? I want your answer and I want it right this damned minute.”
An unnerved Brown looked around for a minute, unsure of what to do. “I need to call somebody.”
“No, you don’t. You can search me, but I’m going on in there. Won’t be long. But it’s gonna be right now.”
“What’s your name?”
“Josh Harms.” He pulled out his wallet. “Here’s my driver’s license. I been over the prison a lot over the years, but I don’t recall ever seeing you.”
“I don’t work at the prison,” he said. “I’m on temporary assignment here. I’m in the reserves.”
“The reserves? Pulling guard duty on a prisoner?”
“The correctional facility specialists who flew in with your brother went back yesterday. They’re bringing in some replacements tomorrow morning.”
“Hallelujah for them. Now, we ready to get this done?”
Private Brown stared at him for another few seconds. “Turn around,” he said finally.
Josh did so. Brown started to pat him down. Right before he reached his front pants pocket, Josh said, “Don’t get excited, but there’s a pocketknife in there. Just pull it out and hold it for me. You hold it good and tight, son, I’m right partial to that knife.”
Private Brown finished the pat-down and straightened. “You got ten minutes, and that’s it. And I’m going in with you.”
“You go in with me, then you’re deserting your post. You desert your post in the Army or the reserves and you gonna end up where my brother is.” He looked at the man’s youthful features. A wannabe weekend warrior, he concluded. Probably pushed a pencil Monday through Friday before slipping on his fatigues and gun looking for adventure. “And let me tell you, prison ain’t where somebody looks like you wants to be.”
Private Brown swallowed nervously. “Ten minutes.”
The two men locked eyes. “Thank you kindly,” Josh Harms said, not meaning one word of it.
He entered the room and closed the door behind him.
“Rufus,” he said quietly.
“Didn’t think you were gonna get here so quick, brother.”
Josh went over to the side of the bed and stared down at him. “What in the hell happened to you?”
“Ain’t sure you want to know.”
“It’s all about that damn letter you got, ain’t it?” Josh pulled a chair over next to the bed.