"You still digging?" he asked suddenly.
The captain hesitated, then replied with a shrug in his voice.
"Ain't supposed to be answering that question. Hart, and you sure as hell know you ain't supposed to be asking it."
"Sorry," Tommy replied.
"You're right."
The man hesitated slightly, then continued, "But hell. Hart, I just want out of here. I want out of here so damn bad some days I think it makes me more hungry than anything. I ain't never been locked up before, and I'm damn certain I ain't never gonna be locked up again.
When I get back to Manhattan, let me tell you, I'm gonna be walkin' the straight and narrow, for sure. You get under the ground working, that's what you keep thinkin' about. All that loose sand and dust.
Cave-ins all the damn time. Can't hardly breathe. Can't hardly see.
Man, it's like digging your own grave. Scare the bejeesus out of you."
At that moment, Hugh, who'd been craning to hear the fighter pilot's words, interjected, "Maybe one of Vic's friends could provide some answers about where that knife and those documents disappeared to, what do you think?"
The captain from New York burst out in a short, nasty half-cough, half-wheezing tone of amusement.
"Vic's friends?
Friends? Man, have you ever got the wrong impression."
"What do you mean?
"Tommy asked.
The pilot hesitated, then said slowly, "You know all those guys, the ones that keep getting into Scott's face? Vic's roommates and the others. The ones causing all the trouble?"
"Yeah, we know 'em," Hugh said, bitterly.
"Well, they like to say they were Vic's friends. That Vic was taking care of 'em and all that. Load of crap, let me tell you. Absolute one hunnert percent bull. Makes for some sort of real convenient explanation for what they've been doing to Scott, which ain't the way a lot of us in the bag would be playing it, no sir. But let me tell you something, Hart. Trader Vic was all about helping out Trader Vic.
Nobody else. Vic had no friends. None. None whatsoever."
The man paused, then added, "That's something you might want to think about."
From the front of the assembly, a German adjutant shouted, "Achtung!
Attention!" Tommy craned his head slightly, and saw Von Reiter had arrived at the head of the formations and was receiving obligatory salutes from the ferrets who had finally satisfactorily completed the count. All kriegies present and accounted for. Another day in the bag ready to begin.
MacNamara was summoned forward, where, after the usual momentary exchange between the commanding officers, he turned and dismissed the Allied airmen. As the blocks of men instantly dissolved, Tommy quickly pivoted to try to catch the captain from New York, but the pilot had already melted into the mass of kriegies momentarily milling about before starting another day of captivity. Only this day held out the promise of being far different from all that had gone before.
Tommy had not moved more than ten yards through the dispersing airmen when he heard his name being called and he turned and saw Walker
Townsend waving at him. He paused, sensing Hugh Renaday and Lincoln
Scott coming to a halt beside him, and the three of them watched the captain from Richmond trot up to them. He wore his usual wry half-smile, and had his cap pushed back on his forehead in a relaxed manner that contradicted the biting wind that pushed sharply at all of them.
"Captain?
"Tommy said.
"Morning, boys," Townsend answered cheerily.
"Sure as hell will be glad to get home to Virginia. Hell, here it is, nearly time for summer to show up, and it still feels like a damn winter morning. Why's anybody want to live in this country, anyways?
So, Tommy, y'all set for the opening act of our little show?"
"I could use more time," Tommy replied.
"Well, seems to me you've been right busy, nonetheless," Townsend replied.
"And I don't believe anyone is inclined to postpone matters none.
Anyways, I wonder if you might just join me for a moment over yonder near Hut 122, where Colonel MacNamara would like a word or two prior to the start of this morning's activities."
Tommy raised his head, staring down the row of huts. Hut 122 was one of the most isolated barracks.
"Mr. Renaday, you may join us, as well."
"Scott, too, if this is something about the case," Tommy said.
Walker Townsend let a small look of annoyance slip across his face, before restoring the same easygoing grin.
"Sure.
That makes some sense. Gentlemen, I do believe we're keeping the commanding officer waiting…"
Tommy nodded, and they followed Townsend through the early morning light and cold. After a few yards. Tommy slightly slowed his pace. He made a small head gesture to Hugh Renaday, who read his motion perfectly, accelerated, and stepped up beside the prosecutor, instantly breaking out into a loud, "I've never been to Virginia, captain. You ever been up to Canada? We like to think that when God made the other countries. He was just practicing, but when He made Canada, He'd got it right, finally…" At the same time, Tommy dropped a step or two back, and Lincoln Scott, seeing the shift in positions, hovered closely.
"This little meeting isn't supposed to be happening, Hart," the black airman said.
"Right?"
"Precisely. Keep your eyes and ears open…"
"And my mouth shut?"
Tommy shrugged as he nodded.
"It rarely hurts to play one's cards close to the vest."
"That's a white man's attitude, Hart. In my situation, or circumstances, you might say, well, it rarely helps. But that's a complicated distinction that you and I can discuss sometime under better conditions. Assuming I live through all this."
"Assuming we all live through it" Scott coughed a laugh.
"True enough. No shortage of people getting killed in this war."
They could all see the Senior American Officer pacing near the entrance to the hut, smoking rapidly. Major Clark was standing nearby, also wreathed in cigarette smoke, which blended with the gray, vaporous breaths that came every time any of the men exhaled into the cold air.
Clark dashed his butt to the ground as the men approached. MacNamara took a long, final pull at the cigarette, then sharply ground it beneath his boot. There was a quick round of salutes, and the SAO glared briefly at Walker Townsend.
"I thought you were only going to summon Lieutenant Hart," MacNamara said sharply.
"That was my order."
Townsend started to reply, then simply remained at attention as
MacNamara cut off any words with a quick wave of the hand. He turned to Lincoln Scott and Tommy Hart.
"I have been troubled about your accusations," he said briskly.