Word of Honor (20 page)

She replied, "Fine. Do you want to come to Washington?"

"Not particularly."

"Well, I'll fly to New York. How about tomorrow?"

Tyson thought a moment, then said, "Okay."

"What time would be convenient?"

"What place are we talking about, Major?"

"Well . . . several choices . . . the airport, Fort Hamilton-"

"No and no."

"Your office?"

"I don't think that would be appropriate unless you come in civilian clothes."

"Well, I could do that, but . . . can we meet at your home?"

He said, "Take the nine A.M. shuttle. Any Long Island limo should be able to find the address. You'll be here before eleven. "

"All right, about eleven A.M., your house. And I assume that since we are meeting, you will waive your right to remain silent."

"I wouldn't ask you to come all the way to New York so I can plead the Fifth."

156 * NELSON DEMILLE

"Fine . . . because there is a possibility we can . . . don't mean to hold out false hope, but perhaps if we just discussed this, we could get it into perspective. This matter may end after I interview you and the other members of your platoon whom we can locate."

"Good. I I

"May I ask if you're bringing civil suit against the author of that book?

You don't have to answer."

"I'm considering it."

"Will you have an attorney present at our interview?"

,"I'm considering it."

She didn't reply immediately, then said, "That's your right, of course. But as an officer and an educated man, you may not need one present. - She continued, "You could have an attorney available by phone, but there's no use escalating this. If you have an attorney, then I may have to bring a stenographer, then-"

I 'Then I'll need a tape recorder, and before you know it we'll have TV

cameras and a housefull of people. Okay, no attorney."

"I don't mean to talk you out of anything. Under the UCMJ, you have a right-"

"I know the UCMJ. I took a refresher course at the library. -

"Fine.-

"May I ask you a question?"

"Certainly. "

'.If I'm a lieutenant and you're a major, why am I calling some of the shots? Now, you don't have to answer that. It's your right as a lawyer to dissemble."

There was a short silence before Major Harper replied, "Do you feel like an officer in the United States Army?"

"Not in the least."

"Then, rank aside, I'll be considerate of your feelings. This must be disorienting for you."

" It was disorienting the first time I was called to active duty. This time it just plain sucks."

Major Harper didn't reply.

Tyson said, "I hope this is a short tour of duty."

"So do 1. -

WORD OF HONOR * 157

"Do you?" He asked abruptly, "Do you drink coffee? I hate to make a whole pot if you don't drink it."

"Coffee would be fine."

"I'll see you tomorrow. Have a happy Fourth." Tyson hung up.

He sat back and breathed deeply. He thought about the disembodied voice he had just heard and tried to picture a face. The voice was pleasant, soft, almost melodic, with a touch of the Midwest. She was, he thought again, very frank. Disarmingly so. And it wasn't because she was being particularly considerate. It was her interrogation style, and he'd be wise to remember that.

Also, the reason he had been able to call the shots wasn't because of any female deference or consideration for his feelings. It was because she had been ordered to take a soft approach. The JAG Corps, the Pentagon, and perhaps even the White House were handling him gingerly. "Good," he said aloud. "I like being handled gingerly by powerful people." He had been so engrossed in his own fears that he had forgotten they were afraid too.

Tyson stood and poured himself another Scotch. He surveyed the partially packed boxes around the den.

He threw open the French doors and stared out onto the dark patio with its glowing brazier. Fireworks echoed between the houses, and rockets from the county park lit up the eastern sky. He almost looked forward to the interview, to the prospect of having his fate hinge solely on his own resources. To hell with lawyers. Here was a challenge in a life that had become devoid of important challenges.

Tyson felt a long-forgotten flutter in his stomach: It is the night before the big Auburn-Navy game, it is the hour before the dawn attack. It is, he thought, the culmination of one life and the beginning of another. He said softly, "Not one game, not one battle ever turned out to be half as bad as the anticipation. Let's get on with it."

M At ten minutes to eleven, Benjamin Tyson's doorbell rang.

foyer and looked at himself in the fulllength mirror. He regarded the navy blue blazer of summer wool, then fluffed the red silk pocket hand-17 kerchief. The crease in

the beige trousers was,

as they said in the Army, razor sharp. His black loafers were polished, and the white cotton shirt accented his tan.

His intent was to look prosperous, self-assured, untouch able. This house was his castle, the clothing his armor.

The doorbell rang again. Tyson moved to the front door, reached out, and opened it quickly.

Subconsciously, he'd expected to see a woman in a lightcolored uniform, but she wore what the Army called Class A greens: forest green skirt, matching tunic, light green blouse, and a crisscrossed black tie. On her head, at ajaunty

158

WORD OF HONOR * 159

angle, was a green garrison cap with officers' gold piping. A black handbag was slung over her shoulder, and she carried a black leather briefcase in her left hand. She smiled pleasantly. "Mr. Tyson?"

"No. I'm Lieutenant Tyson. I guess the mufti threw you." He extended his hand. "The gold oak leaf tells me you're a major, and your name tag says Harper. Hello, Major Harper."

As she took his hand she said, "There's no need for you to wear a uniform."

"Good." He looked her over quickly. Her hair was honeycolored, her eyes pale blue, and- she looked well scrubbed. He pictured comfields and church socials. Somewhere beneath the unflattering uniform dwelt a good body. He stepped aside. "Please come in."

She entered, removing her garrison cap. They exchanged some words about the cloudy weather, her flight, and his home.

Tyson took her cap and laid it on the foyer sideboard. He said, "Can I take your jacket?"

She hesitated, then said, "Yes, please." She set down her briefcase and handbag, then unbuttoned the four brass buttons of the tailored tunic and slipped it off. Tyson saw that her light green blouse was also well tailored and fit more snugly than the Army might have liked. He put her jacket in the foyer closet and turned back to her. They looked at each other for a few seconds before he said, "This way."

He led her through the living room into the rear den. Tyson indicated a suede armchair and she sat, remarking, "Nice room."

"Thank you." He'd removed the packing boxes and any other evidence to suggest he was removing himself from his primary residence. Tyson went to the wall unit that held a small bar, on which sat an electric coffeepot. He poured two cups and said, "Would you like some cream liqueur or cognac with this? Or don't officers drink on duty in the new Army?"

"They do. But I'll wait."

Tyson poured some Irish cream into his cup. "Hair of the dog." He assumed she'd noticed his bloodshot eyes,

160 * NELSON DEMILLE

but having made the self-observation, he thought he should explain it.

"Drinking with some friends. After you called. Actually, it was sort of a fund-raiser. My defense fund," he lied. "They have this annual July Fourth bash up at the club--my country club-and everyone was in a patriotic mood, so they passed the hat. " Tyson realized he was not making a good job of it, but added anyway, "I've gotten a good deal of support in the community. I also understand that a national defense fund is forming ... if I need one."

Karen Harper took a small printed card from her briefcase and said, "Let me get the fon-nalities out of the way. Your rights and all that. I should do this again in person. Okay?"

"Cream?"

"Yes, please."

"Sugar?"

"Yes . . . I'd like to read you your rights now." She glanced at the card.

"I'm listening." He put cream and sugar into her cup.

"All right ... you have the right to remain silent-"

"Excuse me. One lump or-two?"

"Just one, please. You have the right to question any witnesses. You have the right to be represented by Army counsel." She continued reading from the card as Tyson placed a cup of coffee on the table in front of her.

Tyson considered sitting at his desk, then decided against it. He took the Eames recliner opposite her, across the coffee table, and put his cup down.

He watched her as she read the short list of rights. He'd read that list to suspects at least fifty times, and each time he could feel the awkwardness, the tension, that hung in the air between him and the soldier standing before him.

Karen Harper looked up from the card. "Do you understand your rights under the Uniform Code of Military Justice?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you wish to be represented by Army counsel?"

"No, ma'am. "

"Do you wish to have your own attorney present at this time?"

WORD OF HONOR * 161

"He's playing golf."

She looked at him and waited.

Tyson said, "As I indicated on the telephone, I do not."

She nodded perfunctorily, then continued, "I'm to advise you of the offenses charged against you. As yet, there are none. But obviously what we are contemplating is murder."

Tyson did not respond.

She went on. "As I said, there are no witnesses as yet, but you will have the right to cross-examine them if there is a formal investigation. You have the right, at this time, to suggest witnesses who may provide you with statements of defense, extenuation, or mitigation. Do you have any such witnesses?"

"No, ma'am."

"You have the right to make a statement. Do you wish to do so?"

"No, ma'am.

There was a long silence, then Tyson said, "I wish to answer questions.

Shoot."

She glanced at her notes. "All right. . . . Have you read the book Hue: Death of a City?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You can drop that. Are you the Lieutenant Benjamin Tyson mentioned in the book?"

"It would appear so."

"Were you in command of the platoon described in chapter six of said book?"

"Yes, I was."

"Were there any higher-ranking officers present?"

"No. I was operating independently of my company and battalion. "

"Did you have radio contact with your chain of command?"

"Sporadically. The radio batteries were weak. Resupply was a problem at that time."

She nodded, then asked several more questions. Tyson knew she was just getting him into the habit of answering questions, avoiding anything too close to the central issue of mass murder. She's good, he thought. But he himself had done this before, and it was coming back to him.

162 * NELSON DEMILLE

Tyson decided to interrupt her stream of questions. He stood and poured more coffee for both of them. "Let's take a break."

She smiled, as though this was a good idea, but Tyson knew otherwise. He said, "Cigarette?"

"No, thank you."

"Do you mind if I do?"

"Not at all."

Tyson leaned back on the edge of his desk as he drew on his cigarette.

He looked at Major Karen Harper. She must be, he thought, a bit anxious despite her calm exterior. She had a 180-pound fish on the line and he could break it anytime he wished.

She began to speak conversationally, as if this was not part of the interview, though Tyson knew it was. She said, "I found something interesting in your personnel file---4hat note you wrote on the Army questionnaire. Do you remember that?"

He let a few seconds pass, then replied, "Oh . . . that. . . . I must have been in a mood that day."

"I suppose. It was a rather strong note for an officer to have placed in his permanent file."

"I wasn't an officer."

"But you were. You are. You have always been, since the day you took the oath of office after college."

"Would it have made a difference if I had checked the damned box requesting that I be dropped from the rolls?"

"I don't know. That's not my department. I was only interested in what prompted you to write that."

"Do you have any recollection of the war? Of the fall of Saigon? I mean, you look very young."

"I was about fifteen during the 1968 Tet Offensive--

"Fifteen? Christ, I wish I had been fifteen. By the way, Tet was a time, not a place. Do you know that?"

"Of course I do. Anyway, I was twenty-two when Saigon fell in 1975. 1

recall thinking at the time that the war had gone on since I could remember. I was relieved it was over. "

"My wife was too. She proposed a toast to the National Liberation Front.

"

She said, "I think one of the reasons they picked me to WORD OF HONOR * 163

conduct this investigation is my lack of involvement in the events in question."

"Perhaps." She exhibited, he thought, an ingenuousness beneath which was a certain cunning. Or maybe, he conceded, she really was simple and naive. He found himself studying her more closely. Neither the cut nor the color of the Army uniform did anything for her, but her face, her hair, her voice, and her movements more than compensated for that. Her mouth, he noticed, was expressive and capable, he guessed, of sensuousness in other situations. He said, "What are some of the other reasons they picked you?

I mean, why you?"

She shrugged.

"Probably your experience in murder investigations."

"I've never investigated a murder before."

"I've never been suspected of a murder before. Small world. "

She picked up the bottle of cream liqueur from the coffee table. "Do you mind?" She poured some in her coffee. "Anyway, in regard to the note and the questionnaire, I was wondering if you were planning to challenge your recall to active duty. "