My eyes rested on that holstered pistol, calmness shrouding me. In four years of military service I’d never been threatened, never had the opportunity to test whether I would bear up under life-or-death stress or not. But I’d known since I was a boy that I could be cold-bloodedly serene in times of danger. When the stress got so intense that others couldn’t think, I could. And that’s how it was that night. I saw the holster, envisioned the movement, and suddenly I made my move. I rushed Crewes, using my hip to knock him off-balance, opening the holster flap and drawing his weapon.
The two men watched me, frozen. I stepped back, then racked the slide, glancing down into the chamber in time to see the shiny full-metal-jacketed round slide into place. We all stood there, looking at each other.
“That’s not what I was expecting,” Magnum said, smiling so hard his laugh lines deepened into slits.
Crewes, disarmed, looked dumbfounded. “Lieutenant, now stop and think-”
“Stay where you are,” I said, swinging the muzzle from one to the other. In my rush, I’d adopted a point-shooter’s crouch, not so much aiming as jabbing the barrel toward them. I took a deep breath and squared off into the Weaver stance, letting them know I wasn’t fooling.
I knew Magnum had to be strapped, so I turned the pistol on him.
“You know the drill,” I said.
He used two fingers to untuck his polo shirt, then raised it to reveal a belly-band holster, the butt of a small black automatic jutting out.
“Keep your hands in the air,” I told him. Then, “Crewes, you take it out. Slowly.”
The sergeant lowered the pistol onto the floor and kicked it over to me. One glance down confirmed that Magnum was playing the role to the hilt. His pistol was a Walther PPK, the original short-gripped version that could no longer be legally imported into the country. The weapon James Bond carried in the movies.
“Now what?” Magnum asked. “It’s your call.”
“If you see that man,” the major had said, “if he asks for anything or seems to be engaged in any activity out of the ordinary, I want you to inform me immediately.”
I turned to Crewes. “Get Major Shattuck down here.”
He shook his head. “You’re making a mistake here-”
“You’d better do it,” Magnum told him. “He’s liable to shoot us both.”
“I’ll do what I have to,” I said. “And I won’t do what you’re asking. You said you could measure a man up. Well, the sergeant here might think nothing of covering up a murder, but you made a mistake when it comes to what side I’m on.”
“We’re all on the same side here.”
“Tell that to the major.”
After Crewes left, Magnum went to the bed and pulled the blanket up over the dead girl, watching me the whole time to ensure my approval. Then he pulled a wooden chair away from the wall and sat down. He checked his watch, then motioned for me to have a seat on the empty bunk opposite the girl. I stayed where I was.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” he said. “You’re sure this is what you want to do? All right, then. The thing is, I had you pegged for a different kind of guy-and I wasn’t kidding when I told you I was a good judge of character.”
“Is that right?” I spat the words out.
“Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t know himself.”
“I do now.”
He was studying me the way a climber might study a rock, looking for a way up, trying to assess whether the attempt was worth making.
“What’s your real name?” I asked. “Everybody calls you Magnum.”
“On account of this?” He stroked the mustache and shook his head. “You can go on calling me that. Doesn’t bother me.”
“Tell me something. If you’re such a good judge of character, how’d that girl end up dead? Are you sure you’ve got César pegged? Maybe it’s him that has the measure of you.”
“A man in the throes of passion will sometimes get carried away. He gets angry. He does something like this. Does that make him a bad man? An evil man? Or just a man like any other? I’ve seen a little bit more of the world than you have, son, and I’ll tell you this: I’ve never met a man who wasn’t capable of something like this.”
“I’m not capable of it.”
“You might tell yourself that.” He gets a faraway look in his eyes, maybe reminiscing about his own transgressions. “I judged you wrong, Lieutenant March, but I don’t think I’m that far off. You’re the one standing there with the gun, after all. I haven’t killed anyone tonight and I don’t plan on it. What are your plans, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I plan on bringing you to justice. You’re aiding and abetting a crime. You’re trying to cover up the evidence. And I plan on slapping the cuffs on César, too. If he thinks he’s getting a pass on this-”
“I’m only doing my job. And I told you already, I’m building relationships here that are going to last a long time. When you walked in and saw that girl, what went through your mind? You were horrified, weren’t you? So was I. But something else occurred to me. I’ve been watching these men. I’ve been looking to see which ones will last, which of them will rise to the top. When I saw this, I thought, he’s the one. The man who did this, if he doesn’t self-destruct, will go far. Trust me.”
“Shut up,” I said. “You’re not gonna talk that way with her lying there.”
I made him rise and walk down the hallway into the front room. I made him untie the garbage bags and dump out their contents on the floor. Up to that point, he’d been easygoing, as calm under pressure as I was. But emptying the bags got to him. His cheeks flushed with anger. The sides of the mustache curled down.
“You’re a student of history, aren’t you, March? That’s what you were checking out at the bookstore, if I remember. I’m more of a literature man myself, but as a historian, maybe you can appreciate this. There are certain historical events that, if you understand the relationship between them, will unlock the way of the world. You know what I’m talking about?”
“I think you’re insane.”
“You ever studied the French Revolution? Liberty, equality, fraternity, all of that rot. The whole of modern history is just footnotes to the French Revolution. In 1789, when the people started guillotining their masters, that got the slaves down in Haiti thinking, If you guys are all about freedom, then how ’bout giving us a little? Now, in Europe, the French were all about exporting the revolution. Every monarch on the continent started itching around the collar. But when their own colony starts talking about the rights of man, what do you think happened?”
“They suppressed it,” I said.
“That’s right. The ideas you champion for yourself become a threat when they’re embraced by the people you need to subjugate. You overthrow your tyrant, but you still have to make friends with tyrants everywhere. You have no choice.”
“You can choose not to subjugate anyone.”
“Can you?” He seems genuinely surprised. “That’s not as easy as you might think.”
Outside in the corridor, I could hear footsteps. Then Crewes’s voice. Then the voice of the major. I pulled the door open wide, leaving the pistol aimed at Magnum.
“Sir,” I said.
Major Shattuck strode through the doorway with Crewes in his wake. He ordered me to lower the gun and I did. Even Magnum stood straighter, halfway to attention. The major looked the room over, then turned to me for a report.
“There’s a dead girl in the bedroom,” I said. “One of the cabana boys-one of the Latin American officers-raped her and beat her to death. When I arrived, Sergeant Crewes and Magnum-and this gentleman-were in the process of cleaning up the scene. They expected me to help them remove the body, sir.”
Shattuck glared at Crewes. “Is this true?”
“Yes, sir. Lieutenant March took my side arm and threatened to shoot me if I didn’t come and fetch you out of bed. So that’s what I did. Sir.”