demille.thegeneralsdaughter-第1部分

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　For　Mom　and　Dad；　Dennis
　and　Lillian；　Lance　and　Joanie
　　
　　
　Many　thanks　to　my　consiglieri；
　Dave　Westermann；　Mike　Tryon；
　Len　Ridini；　Tom　Eschmann；
　Steve　Astor；　John　Betts；
　and　Nick　Ellison。
　Mille　grazie。
　　
　　
　What　the　dead　had　no　speech　for；　when　living；
　They　can　tell　you；　being　dead：　the　munication
　Of　the　dead　is　tongued　with　fire　beyond　the　language　of　the　living。
　　　T。　S。　Eliot
　　　　Four　Quartets。　〃Little　Gidding〃
　
　CHAPTER　ONE
　
　〃Is　this　seat　taken？〃　I　asked　the　attractive　young　woman　sitting　by　herself　in　the　lounge。
　She　looked　up　from　her　newspaper　but　didn't　reply。
　I　sat　opposite　her　at　the　cocktail　table　and　put　down　my　beer。　She　went　back　to　her　paper　and　sipped　on　her　drink；　a　bourbon　and　Coke。　I　inquired；　〃e　here　often？〃
　〃Go　away。〃
　〃What's　your　sign？〃
　〃No　trespassing。〃
　〃Don't　I　know　you　from　somewhere？〃
　〃No。〃
　〃Yes。　NATO　Headquarters　in　Brussels。　We　met　at　a　cocktail　party。〃
　〃Perhaps　you're　right；〃　she　conceded。　〃You　got　drunk　and　threw　up　in　the　punch　bowl。〃
　〃Small　world；〃　I　said。　And　indeed　it　was。　Cynthia　Sunhill；　the　woman　sitting　across　from　me　now；　was　more　than　a　casual　acquaintance。　In　fact；　we　were　once　involved；　as　they　say。　Apparently　she　chose　not　to　remember　much　of　it。　I　said；　〃You　threw　up。　I　told　you　bourbon　and　Coke　wasn't　good　for　your　stomach。〃
　〃You　are　not　good　for　my　stomach。〃
　You'd　think　by　her　attitude　that　I　had　walked　out　on　her　rather　than　vice　versa。
　We　were　sitting　in　the　cocktail　lounge　of　the　Officers'　Club　at　Fort　Hadley；　Georgia。　It　was　the　Happy　Hour；　and　everyone　there　seemed　happy；　save　for　us　two。　I　was　dressed　in　a　blue　civilian　suit；　she　in　a　nice　pink　knit　dress　that　brought　out　her　tan；　her　auburn　hair；　her　hazel　eyes；　and　other　fondly　remembered　anatomy。　I　inquired；　〃Are　you　here　on　assignment？〃
　〃I'm　not　at　liberty　to　discuss　that。〃
　〃Where　are　you　staying？〃
　No　reply。
　〃How　long　will　you　be　here？〃
　She　went　back　to　her　newspaper。
　I　asked；　〃Did　you　marry　that　guy　you　were　seeing　on　the　side？〃
　She　put　down　the　paper　and　looked　at　me。　〃I　was　seeing　you　on　the　side。　I　was　engaged　to　him。〃
　〃That's　right。　Are　you　still　engaged？〃
　〃None　of　your　business。〃
　〃It　could　be。〃
　〃Not　in　this　lifetime；〃　she　informed　me；　and　hid　behind　her　paper　again。
　I　didn't　see　an　engagement　ring　or　a　wedding　ring；　but　in　our　business　that　didn't　mean　much；　as　I'd　learned　in　Brussels。
　Cynthia　Sunhill；　by　the　way；　was　in　her　late　twenties；　and　I'm　in　my　early　forties；　so　ours　was　not　a　May…November　romance；　but　more　May…September。　Maybe　August。
　It　lasted　a　year　while　we　were　both　stationed　in　Europe；　and　her　fiancé；　a　Special　Forces　major；　was　stationed　in　Panama。　Military　life　is　tough　on　relationships　of　all　kinds；　and　the　defense　of　Western　civilization　makes　people　horny。
　Cynthia　and　I　had　separated　a　little　over　a　year　before　this　chance　encounter；　under　circumstances　that　can　best　be　described　as　messy。　Apparently　neither　she　nor　I　had　gotten　over　it；　I　was　still　hurting　and　she　was　still　pissed　off。　The　betrayed　fiancé　looked　a　little　annoyed；　too；　the　last　time　I　saw　him　in　Brussels　with　a　pistol　in　his　hand。
　The　O　Club　at　Hadley　is　vaguely　Spanish　in　architecture；　perhaps　Moorish；　which　may　have　been　why　Casablanca　popped　into　my　mind；　and　I　quipped　out　of　the　side　of　my　mouth；　〃Of　all　the　gin　joints　in　the　world；　she　walks　into　mine。〃
　Either　she　didn't　get　it　or　she　wasn't　in　a　smiling　mood；　because　she　continued　to　read　her　newspaper；　the　Stars　and　Stripes；　which　nobody　reads；　at　least　not　in　public。　But　Cynthia　is　a　bit　of　a　goody…goody；　a　dedicated；　loyal；　and　enthusiastic　soldier　with　none　of　the　cynicism　and　world…weariness　that　most　men　display　after　a　few　years　on　this　job。　〃Hearts　filled　with　passion；　jealousy；　and　hate；〃　I　prompted。
　Cynthia　said；　〃Go　away；　Paul。〃
　〃I'm　sorry　I　ruined　your　life；〃　I　said　sincerely。
　〃You　couldn't　even　ruin　my　day。〃
　〃You　broke　my　heart；〃　I　said　with　more　sincerity。
　〃I'd　like　to　break　your　neck；〃　she　replied　with　real　enthusiasm。
　I　could　see　that　I　was　rekindling　something　in　her；　but　I　don't　think　it　was　passion。
　I　remembered　a　poem　I　used　to　whisper　to　her　in　our　more　intimate　moments；　and　I　leaned　toward　her　and　said　softly；　〃　'There　hath　none　pleased　mine　eyes　but　Cynthia；　none　delighted　mine　ears　but　Cynthia；　none　possessed　my　heart　but　Cynthia。　I　have　forsaken　all　other　fortunes　to　follow　Cynthia；　and　here　I　stand；　ready　to　die　if　it　pleases　Cynthia。'　〃
　〃Good。　Drop　dead。〃　She　stood　and　left。
　〃Play　it　again；　Sam。〃　I　finished　my　beer；　stood；　and　walked　back　to　the　bar。
　I　sidled　up　to　the　long　bar　among　men　who　had　seen　some　of　life；　men　with　chests　full　of　medals　and　bat　Infantry　Badges；　men　with　campaign　ribbons　from　Korea；　Vietnam；　Grenada；　Panama；　and　the　Gulf。　The　guy　to　my　right；　a　full　colonel　with　gray　hair；　said；　〃War　is　hell；　son；　but　hell　hath　no　fury　like　a　woman　scorned。〃
　〃Amen。〃
　〃Saw　the　whole　thing　in　the　bar　mirror；〃　he　informed　me。
　〃Bar　mirrors　are　interesting；〃　I　replied。
　〃Yup。〃　In　fact；　he　was　studying　me　in　the　bar　mirror　now。　Apropos　of　my　civilian　attire；　he　asked；　〃You　retired？〃
　〃Yes。〃　But　in　fact；　I　was　not。
　He　gave　me　his　opinion　of　women　in　the　military…〃They　squat　to　piss。　Try　doing　that　with　sixty　pounds　of　field　gear〃…then　announced；　〃Gotta　go　drain　the　dragon；〃　and　ambled　off　to　the　men's　room；　where　I　presume　he　stood　at　the　urinal。
　I　made　my　way　out　of　the　club　into　the　hot　August　night　and　got　into　my　Chevy　Blazer。　I　drove　through　the　main　post；　which　is　sort　of　like　a　downtown　without　zoning；　enpassing　everything　from　a　PX　and　missary　to　misplaced　barracks　and　a　deserted　tank　maintenance　facility。
　Fort　Hadley　is　a　small　post　in　south　Georgia；　founded　in　1917　to　train　infantry　troops　to　be　sent　into　the　meat　grinder　on　the　Western　Front。　The　area　of　the　military　reservation；　however；　is　quite　large…over　100；000　acres　of　mostly　wooded　terrain；　suitable　for　war　games；　survival　courses；　guerrilla　warfare　training；　and　so　on。
　The　Infantry　School　is　phasing　out　now；　and　much　of　the　post　looks　forlorn。　But　there　is　a　Special　Operations　School　here；　the　purpose　of　which　seems　somewhat　vague；　or　perhaps；　to　be　charitable；　I　could　say　experimental。　As　far　as　I　can　determine；　the　school　is　a　mixture　of　psychological　warfare；　troop　morale　studies；　isolation　and　deprivation　studies；　stress　management　courses；　and　other　head　and　mind　games。　It　sounds　a　bit　sinister；　but　knowing　the　Army；　whatever　the　original　bright　idea　was；　it　has　since　bee　Drill　and　Ceremonies；　and　spit…shined　boots。
　To　the　north　of　Fort　Hadley　lies　the　medium…sized　town　of　Midland；　a　typical　Army　town　in　some　ways；　populated　with　retired　military　personnel；　civilian　employees　of　the　base；　people　who　sell　things　to　soldiers；　as　well　as　those　who　have　nothing　to　do　with　the　military　and　like　it　fine　that　way。
　Midland　was　an　English　trading　post　as　early　as　1710；　and　before　that　it　was　an　outpost　of　the　Spanish　colony　of　St。　Augustine　in　Florida。　Prior　to　that；　it　was　an　Indian　town；　the　center　of　the　Upatoi　Nation。　The　Spanish　burned　the　Indian　town；　the　English　burned　the　Spanish　outpost；　the　French　burned　the　English　trading　post；　the　British　army　burned　and　abandoned　their　fort　there　during　the　Revolution；　and　finally；　the　Yankees　burned　it　in　1864。　Looking　at　the　place　today；　you　wonder　what　all　the　fuss　was　about。　Anyway；　they've　got　a　good　volunteer　fire　department　now。
　I　got　on　the　interstate　that　skirts　Fort　Hadley　and　Midland　and　drove　north；　out　into　the　open　country　toward　a　deserted　trailer　park。　This　was　where　I　was　temporarily　staying；　and　I　found　the　isolation　convenient　in　terms　of　my　job。
　My　job。　I　am　an　officer　in　the　United　States　Army。　My　rank　is　unimportant；　and　in　my　line　of　work；　it's　also　a　secret。　I　am　in　the　Criminal　Investigation　Division；　the　CID；　and　in　the　Army；　which　is　very　rank…conscious；　the　best　rank　to　have　is　no　rank。　But；　in　fact；　like　most　CID　personnel；　I　am　a　warrant　officer；　a　specialized　rank　that　exists　between　nonmissioned　officers　and　missioned　officers。　This　is　a　pretty　good　rank　because　you　have　most　of　the　privileges　of　an　officer　but　not　much　of　the　mand　responsibility；　or　the　Mickey　Mouse　crap　that　goes　along　with　it。　Warrant　officers　are　addressed　as　〃Mister；〃　and　CID　investigators　often　wear　civilian　clothing　as　I　was　that　evening。　There　are　times　when　I　even　have　illusions　that　I'm　a　civilian。
　There　are；　however；　occasions　when　I　do　wear　a　uniform。　On　these　occasions；　the　Department　of　the　Army　issues　me　orders　with　a　new　name；　a　rank　appropriate　to　the　case；　and　a　uniform　to　match。　I　report　for　duty　into　a　unit　where　my　quarry　is　working；　and　I　go　about　my　assigned　duties　while　gathering　evidence　for　the　judge　advocate　general。
　When　you're　undercover；　you　have　to　be　a　jack…of…all…trades。　I've　been　everything　from　a　cook　to　a　chemical　warfare　specialist…though　in　the　Army　that's　not　such　a　big　difference。　It's　sort　of　difficult　to　get　away　with　some　of　these　roles；　but　I　get　by　on　my　charm。　It's　all　illusion　anyway。　So　is　my　charm。
　There　are　four　warrant　officer　grades；　and　I'm　topped　out　at　grade　four。　All　us　fours　are　holding　our　breaths　waiting　for　Congress　to　approve　a　five　and　six。　Some　of　us　have　died　of　asphyxiation　waiting。
　Anyway；　I'm　part　of　a　special　CID　team；　a　sort　of　elite　unit；　though　I　hesitate　to　use　that　word。　What　makes　us　special　is　that　we're　all　long…time　veterans　with　good　arrest　and　conviction　records。　What　also　makes　us　special　is　that　I　have　extraordinary　powers　to　cut　through　Army　red　tape；　which　in　the　military　is　like　having　a　magic　mushroom　in　a　Nintendo　game。　One　of　those　extraordinary　powers　is　the　power　to　make　an　arrest　of　any　military　person　anywhere　in　the　world；　regardless　of　rank。　I　wouldn't　push　this　and　attempt　to　arrest　one　of　the　Joint　Chiefs　for　speeding；　but　I　always　wanted　to　see　how　far　I　could　go。　I　was　about　to　find　out。
　My　permanent　duty　station　is　at　CID　Headquarters　in　Falls　Church；　Virginia；　but　my　cases　take　me　all　over　the　world。　Travel；　adventure；　free　time；　mental　and　physical　challenges；　and　bosses　who　leave　me　alone…what　more　could　a　man　want？　Oh；　yes；　wom