“You don’t have the money.” Harlan said. “I could of guessed it.”
“There it is.”
“Where? I don’t see it.”
“It’s right there,” Cassada said. “Better pick it up. It’s the only time I’m going to be paying.”
“What’s all that about next payday, then?”
“That’s the other part.”
“I don’t want parts. Where’s the money?”
Cassada, face burning, pushed the oblong piece of paper towards Harlan with his foot. There was a terrible silence.
“Hell, Wes,” Grace said, “go on and take it.”
Harlan’s broad face filled with scorn and also defiance.
“Why don’t you just say, I don’t have it, buddy?” Harlan said to Cassada. “I just don’t have it.”
Phipps, who was watching, bent down and picked up the check. He passed it to Harlan. “Why don’t you guys act like grown-ups?”
Harlan took the check, folded it, took out his wallet and put it inside. Godchaux had his arm around him.
“Don’t hide it away. Aren’t you going to buy everyone drinks at the club?”
“I don’t think anybody needs more drinks.”
“Come on,” Godchaux said.
“Go ahead and win your own money.”
“I think we ought to have a pool next time,” Grace said, “and the top three split it. Half to the high scorer and on down.”
“All right with me,” Harlan said.
“If we could get ‘A’ Flight to join in we’d clean up,” Grace said. “I see myself getting first place, then maybe Godchaux, then you.”
“I’m third?” Harlan said.
“I’d put you first except for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You don’t drink,” Grace said, seemingly serious.
“Shit.”
Near the showers a wrestling match had broken out and they were calling for Dunning, who was in his tent, to come and show how he had played end at Auburn. The party was becoming disorderly and also spreading past the tents to other squadrons having parties of their own.
Sometime after dark Dumfries came into the tent and turned on the light. Cassada was lying on his cot. Dumfries thought at first he was asleep, but he had merely closed his eyes against the light.
“I didn’t know anyone was in here,” Dumfries said. “Aren’t you going over to the club?”
“No.”
“I’m not either. I only had one cup of that stuff. I think it was doggone strong. Some of them are really drunk. Did you have a lot?”
“No.”
“I don’t know what-all was in it.”
Cassada rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes. “Why don’t you turn off that light?” he said.
“I just want to get undressed,” Dumfries said. He sat down on his footlocker and began to unlace his boots. “You still have your shoes on.”
“I know.”
There was noise from the major’s tent and from between the tents, shouting and singing. Dumfries had taken off one boot. He was talking about big fraternity parties he remembered although that was all beer, he said. Mostly beer. Cassada seemed not to be listening.
“Gee, it was too bad to lose that bet,” Dumfries said.
Cassada’s thoughts seemed elsewhere.
“I used to bet a lot myself,” Dumfries said, “at school. Mostly on football games, the World Series, things like that. After a while I really had a reputation, as a matter of fact. You probably wouldn’t believe it, the way I am now. They used to call me Little John. After John Cuneo. Of course, it was only kidding. He’s a real big gambler over in Sacramento. Maybe you’ve heard of him, John Cuneo.
“But then I used to win so much it wasn’t fun anymore, and I promised my mother I’d stop. She used to say, where’d you get all that money from? She never liked it very much. You know how they are. Aren’t you going to take off your shoes?”
Cassada rolled over and shook his head as if in bewilderment. “I don’t know what I’m doing here,” he muttered.
“What’d you say?”
“I don’t know. Turn out the light.”
Dumfries had taken off his other boot. He was still talking about his mother. Something went past him. It was a shower clog. “Hey!” he said. A shoe flew by and out the tent entry. Then another clog. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Cassada was sitting up, throwing. The bulb exploded.
“What was that for?” said Dumfries in the darkness.
“Turning out the light,” Cassada said, settling back.
“You got glass all over the place,” Dumfries complained. “Someone’s going to cut their feet. Wait until Captain Wickenden comes in. He’s going to be mad.”
“He won’t know the difference,” Cassada said.
“Well, I’ve got to walk over it in the dark. I don’t want to walk on a lot of glass.”
Cassada did not reply. Stepping with care, Dumfries left the tent and went towards the showers to get a bulb from over one of the sinks. When he got back, Cassada was gone. Dumfries took the broom and swept the glass into a pile near the entrance. He was looking carefully to see if he’d gotten all of it.
“What are you doing?” Wickenden asked.
“Oh. Just sweeping up some glass. Cassada broke the bulb.”
“How’d that happen?”
“He threw a shoe at it.”
“Why didn’t he sweep it up?”
“Gee, Captain, I don’t know. He would have just left it lying there.”
“Bring that broom over here. You missed some.”
“Yes, sir.”
Wickenden went over to his cot. “If I cut my foot,” he said, “he’s going to sweep this tent with his toothbrush.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m not kidding.”
There was going to be trouble, Dumfries thought.
PART III
Chapter I
Godchaux had stepped outside and was facing the direction they would be coming from. The light had faded, the last, deceiving light. A thousand pounds, Dunning was saying to himself, a thousand pounds, fifteen minutes, with Isbell hanging there not able to do a thing. If it was Godchaux with him it would be different, but it was never someone like Godchaux.
“Turn left to zero six zero,” the controller said. “Maintain two thousand feet.”
“Zero six zero.”
“Roger, White. Now stand by on this channel for your final controller.”
Almost immediately another voice broke in.
“Fortify White, this is your final controller. How do you read?”
There was no answer.
“Fortify White, this is final controller. How do you read me?”
Silence. Dunning had the mike in his hand and was about to call himself when finally there came, replying as if just now part of it all,
“Fortify White.”
“How do you read me?”
“Five square.”
“Roger,” the controller said, adding with calmness, “the tower advises that the field has now gone below minimums.”
Of course it has, Dunning thought. Goddamn it, I knew it when I first called. Look out the window, I said, look out the goddamn window!
“You’re advised to proceed to your alternate. Call outbound over the beacon at thirty-five hundred feet.”
“Negative,” Dunning interrupted. “Bring them in here!”
“The field is closed, White.”
“This isn’t White. This is mobile control.”
“Roger. Stand by one,” the controller said.
“Stand by nothing! This is Major Dunning in mobile. Bring them in. Bring them in here!”
There was the end of another transmission that had been blocked out,
“… an emergency!”