"Yes sir."
"Is there anything in those drawings that contradicts what you believe happened to Captain Bedford, based on your examination of the body?"
"No sir."
"Now, tell this court what you came to believe about the crime."
"Well, sir, my first impression, when I first laid out the captain's body, you see, was that Mr. Bedford had been killed by a stab from behind, which is just what I told Mr. Hart. I also believed right then that the murder weapon was something long and narrow…"
"You told Mr. Hart this? That the murder weapon was thin?"
"Yes sir. I suggested the killing was performed by a man wielding some sort of narrow stiletto or switchblade-type knife."
"But he didn't show you this knife, did he?"
"No sir. He did not have it."
"In fact, you've never seen this weapon, have you?"
"Well, not here."
"Right. So, there is no evidence whatsoever that this second what did you call it…"
"Stiletto. Or switchblade, captain…"
"Right. This assassin's weapon. You've never seen it.
There's no evidence at all that it even exists, is there?"
"Not that I know of."
"Right." Townsend paused, took a deep breath, then asked, "So, this killing that you first thought might have been performed with a knife that doesn't seem to exist… is that what you believe today?"
Tommy rose sharply.
"Objection!" he blurted.
Colonel MacNamara shook his head.
"Captain Townsend," he said stiffly, "try to ask your questions in an acceptable manner. Without all the unnecessary editorializing."
"Of course, Your Honor. Sorry," Townsend said. Then he looked over at Lieutenant Fenelli, and did not rephrase the question, but merely gestured, a small hand wave, as if encouraging his response.
"No sir. It's not exactly what I believe today. When I saw the blade in the prosecution's possession, the one you and the major showed me yesterday, well, then I was able to determine that the wounds inflicted upon Captain Bedford were possibly consistent with that weapon…"
Lincoln Scott muttered, "Possibly consistent… that's great." Tommy did not reply, instead focusing closely on each word that seemed to drag itself from Fenelli's lips.
"Was there another reason why you first thought the wounds Captain
Bedford suffered were delivered with that special sort of knife?"
Townsend questioned.
"Well, sir, yes. Those were the types of wounds that I saw in my mortuary experience back in Cleveland, sir. Because I was most familiar with those sorts of weapons and the damage they cause, that was sort of what I sort of automatically concluded. My fault. Sort of."
Townsend smiled at Fenelli's tortured grammar.
"But upon further consideration…"
"Yes sir. Further consideration. A couple of further considerations, sir. I saw that there were also some contusions on the captain's face.
I suspect what might have happened was that he was struck by a fist, hard, which slammed him sideways into the wall of the Abort, and exposing that portion of the neck where the primary wound was discovered. In this maybe semiconscious and vulnerable state, kinda twisted sideways, you know, the blade was used to kill, giving me the impression of a blow from behind. At least, giving me that impression at first. I musta been wrong. Or coulda been, maybe. It might have happened that way. I'm no expert."
Walker Townsend nodded. It was impossible for him to hide the look of pleased satisfaction on his face.
"That's right. You're not an expert."
"That's what I said. I'm not an expert," Fenelli repeated.
The medic from Cleveland shifted once or twice in his seat, then added,
"I feel that I should have maybe gone to Mr.
Hart and told him about my change of mind, sir. Shoulda gone, right after talking with you. I apologize for that. But I didn't have time, because " "Of course." Townsend sliced off Fenelli's words sharply.
"Now I have just one more question, lieutenant," Townsend said loudly.
"There has been much made of this right-hand, left-hand business…"
"Yes sir."
"Did your examination of the body suggest to you anything in this regard?"
"Yes sir. Because of the contusions and the knife wound, and after talking with you, I kinda figured that whoever killed Captain Bedford was possibly pretty much ambidextrous, sir.
Or real close to it."
Townsend nodded slowly.
"Ambidextrous means someone who is equally capable of using either right or left hand, correct?"
"That is correct, sir."
"Like a particularly skilled boxer?"
"I suppose so."
"Objection Tommy again leapt to his feet.
Colonel MacNamara stared at him, and held up his hand for Tommy to halt before going further.
"Yes, yes, I know what you're going to say. Lieutenant Hart. This is a conclusion that the witness is not capable of reaching. Absolutely correct. Unfortunately, Mr. Hart, it is a conclusion that is obvious to the entire tribunal." He waved Tommy back into his seat.
"Do you have something further for Lieutenant Fenelli, captain?"
Townsend smiled, glanced over toward Major Clark, and shook his head.
"No sir. We have no more questions. He's your witness now, Lieutenant Hart."
Shaking with rage, his mind seared with every imaginable sensation of fury and betrayal. Tommy rose and, for a long second or two, simply stared across the room at the witness seated in front of him. His imagination was jumbled with confused emotions, all painted over in the red of anger.
Tommy bit down on his lower lip, wanting to do nothing except savage Fenelli. He wanted to embarrass him and show him to the entire camp to be the back-stabbing dishonest gutless cowardly liar that Tommy believed him to be. He searched through the thicket of rage for the first question that would expose him to the assembly as the Judas Tommy considered him. Tommy was breathing hard and harsh, and he wanted his first query to be devastating.
He opened his mouth to fire this first salvo, but stopped, just as he caught, out of the corner of his eye, the look on Walker Townsend's face. The captain from Virginia was leaning slightly forward, not so much grinning as he was flush with eagerness. And Tommy, in that short moment, realized something he thought important-that what Captain Townsend, and Major Clark at his side, were anticipating was not what Fenelli had already said from the witness stand. But what he was about to say, when Tommy thrust his first infuriated question across the theater.
Tommy took a deep breath. He glanced down at both Hugh Renaday and Lincoln Scott, and he could tell the two men wanted him to verbally carve the lying medic into tiny pieces.