demille.thegeneralsdaughter-第2部分

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；　women。　There's　some　of　that；　too。　Brussels　wasn't　the　last　time　I　had　a　woman；　but　it　was　the　last　time　it　mattered。
　Unfortunately；　there　are　some　men　who　get　their　fun　and　challenges　in　other　ways。　Sexual　assault。　Murder。　That's　what　happened　on　that　hot　August　night　at　Fort　Hadley；　Georgia。　The　victim　was　Captain　Ann　Campbell；　daughter　of　Lieutenant　General　Joseph　〃Fighting　Joe〃　Campbell。　As　if　that　weren't　bad　enough；　she　was　young；　beautiful；　talented；　bright；　and　a　West　Point　graduate。　She　was　the　pride　of　Fort　Hadley；　the　darling　of　the　Army　public　relations　people；　a　poster　girl　for　Army　recruiters；　a　spokesperson　for　the　new；　nonsexist　Army；　a　Gulf　War　veteran；　and　so　forth　and　so　on。　Therefore；　I　wasn't　particularly　surprised　when　I　heard　that　someone　raped　and　murdered　her。　She　had　it　ing。　Right？　Wrong。
　But　I　didn't　know　any　of　that　during　the　Happy　Hour　at　the　O　Club。　In　fact；　while　I　had　been　speaking　to　Cynthia；　and　talking　man　talk　with　that　colonel　at　the　bar；　Captain　Ann　Campbell　was　still　alive　and　was　actually　fifty　feet　away　in　the　O　Club　dining　room　finishing　a　meal　of　salad；　chicken；　white　wine；　and　coffee；　as　I　learned　during　my　subsequent　investigation。
　I　arrived　at　the　trailer　park；　set　among　the　pine　trees；　and　parked　my　Blazer　some　distance　from　my　mobile　home。　I　walked　in　the　dark　along　a　path　of　rotted　planking。　A　few　unoccupied　trailers　were　scattered　around　the　clearing；　but　mostly　there　were　empty　lots　marked　by　cement　blocks　upon　which　there　once　sat　about　a　hundred　mobile　homes。
　There　was　still　electric　and　telephone　service　available　and　a　well　that　provided　running　water；　which　I　made　potable　by　adding　Scotch　whisky　to　it。
　I　unlocked　the　door　of　my　trailer；　stepped　inside；　and　turned　on　the　light；　which　revealed　a　kitchen/dining　room/living　room　bination。
　I　thought　of　the　trailer　as　a　time　capsule　in　which　nothing　had　changed　since　about　1970。　The　furniture　was　sort　of　an　avocado…green　plastic；　and　the　kitchen　appliances　were　a　kind　of　mustard　color　that　I　think　used　to　be　called　harvest　gold。　The　walls　were　paneled　in　a　dark　plywood；　and　the　carpeting　was　a　red　and　black　plaid。　If　one　were　color…sensitive；　this　place　could　induce　fits　of　depression　and　suicide。
　I　took　off　my　jacket　and　tie；　turned　on　the　radio；　got　a　beer　from　the　refrigerator；　and　sat　in　the　armchair　that　was　bolted　to　the　floor。　There　were　three　framed　prints　screwed　to　the　walls；　a　bullfighter；　a　seascape；　and　a　reproduction　of　Rembrandt's　〃Aristotle　Contemplating　the　Bust　of　Homer。〃　I　sipped　my　beer　and　contemplated　Aristotle　contemplating　Homer's　bust。
　This　particular　trailer　park；　named　Whispering　Pines；　if　anyone　cares；　was　developed　by　a　few　enterprising　retired　sergeants　in　the　late　sixties　when　it　appeared　that　the　war　in　Asia　was　going　to　last　forever。　Fort　Hadley；　an　Infantry　Training　Center；　was　bursting　with　soldiers　and　their　dependents　back　then；　and　I　remember　Whispering　Pines　when　it　was　full　of　young　married　soldiers　who　were　authorized…actually　encouraged…to　live　off　post。　There　was　an　aboveground　pool　crammed　with　kids　and　young　Army　wives；　and　there　was　too　much　drinking；　and　too　much　boredom；　and　too　little　money；　and　the　future　was　obscured　by　the　fog　of　war。
　The　American　dream　was　not　supposed　to　look　like　this；　and　when　the　men　went　off　to　the　war；　too　often　other　men　came　in　the　night　to　the　bedroom　at　the　back　of　the　long；　narrow　trailers。　In　fact；　I　had　lived　here　then　and　had　gone　off　to　war；　and　someone　took　my　place　in　the　bed　and　took　my　young　wife。　But　that　was　a　few　wars　ago；　and　so　much　has　happened　since；　that　the　only　lingering　bitterness　left　is　that　the　bastard　also　took　my　dog。
　I　read　a　few　magazines；　had　a　few　more　beers；　thought　of　Cynthia；　and　didn't　think　of　Cynthia。
　Normally；　I　have　a　little　more　fun　than　this；　but　I　had　to　be　at　the　post　armory　at　0500　hours；　a。k。a。　five　A。M。
　
　CHAPTER　TWO
　
　The　post　armory。　A　cornucopia　of　American　high…tech　military　goodies…things　that　go　boom　in　the　night。
　I　was　on　undercover　assignment　at　the　armory　in　the　early　morning　hours　near　the　time　when　Ann　Campbell　was　murdered；　which　is　why　I　caught　the　squeal；　as　my　civilian　counterparts　would　say。　Some　weeks　earlier；　I　had　assumed　the　duties　and　outward　appearances　of　a　slightly　seedy　supply　sergeant　named　Franklin　White；　and　with　a　real　seedy　supply　sergeant　named　Dalbert　Elkins；　we　were　about　to　close　a　deal　to　sell　a　few　hundred　M…16　rifles；　grenade　launchers；　and　sundry　other　dangerous　items　from　the　armory　to　a　group　of　Cuban　freedom　fighters　who　wanted　to　overthrow　Mr。　Fidel　Castro；　the　Antichrist。　In　fact；　the　Hispanic　gentlemen　were　Colombian　drug　dealers；　but　they　wanted　to　make　us　feel　better　about　the　transaction。　Anyway；　I　was　sitting　in　the　armory　at　0600　hours；　conversing　with　my　coconspirator；　Staff　Sergeant　Elkins。　We　were　talking　about　what　we　were　going　to　do　with　the　200；000　we　would　split。　Sergeant　Elkins　was　actually　going　to　jail　for　the　rest　of　his　life；　but　he　didn't　know　that；　and　men　have　to　dream。　It's　my　unpleasant　duty　to　bee　their　worst　nightmare。
　The　phone　rang；　and　I　picked　up　the　receiver　before　my　new　buddy　could　grab　it。　I　said；　〃Post　armory；　Sergeant　White　speaking。〃
　〃Ah；　there　you　are；〃　said　Colonel　William　Kent；　the　post　provost　marshal；　Fort　Hadley's　top　cop。　〃I'm　glad　I　found　you。〃
　〃I　didn't　know　I　was　lost；〃　I　replied。　Prior　to　my　chance　encounter　with　Cynthia；　Colonel　Kent　was　the　only　person　on　the　post　who　knew　who　I　was；　and　the　only　reason　I　could　think　of　for　him　to　be　calling　me　was　to　tell　me　I　was　in　imminent　danger　of　being　found　out。　I　kept　one　eye　on　Sergeant　Elkins　and　one　on　the　door。
　But　as　luck　would　have　it；　it　wasn't　as　simple　as　that。　Colonel　Kent　informed　me；　〃There's　been　a　homicide。　A　female　captain。　Maybe　raped。　Can　you　talk？〃
　〃No。〃
　〃Can　you　meet　me？〃
　〃Maybe。〃　Kent　was　a　decent　sort　of　guy；　but　like　most　MP　types；　he　wasn't　overly　clever；　and　the　CID　made　him　nervous。　I　said；　〃I'm　working；　obviously。〃
　〃This　is　going　to　take　priority；　Mr。　Brenner。　It's　a　big　one。〃
　〃So　is　this。〃　I　glanced　at　Sergeant　Elkins；　who　was　eyeing　me　carefully。
　Kent　said；　〃It　was　General　Campbell's　daughter。〃
　〃My　goodness。〃　I　thought　a　moment。　All　my　instincts　said　to　avoid　any　cases　that　involved　the　rape　and　murder　of　a　general's　daughter。　It　was　a　lose…lose　situation。　My　sense　of　duty；　honor；　and　justice　assured　me　that　some　other　sucker　in　the　special　unit　of　the　CID　could　handle　it。　Somebody　whose　career　was　down　the　toilet　anyway。　I　thought　of　several　candidates。　But；　duty　and　honor　aside；　my　natural　curiosity　was　aroused。　I　asked　Colonel　Kent；　〃Where　can　I　meet　you？〃
　〃I'll　meet　you　in　the　provost　building　parking　lot　and　take　you　to　the　scene。〃
　Being　undercover；　I　shouldn't　be　anywhere　near　the　provost　marshal's　office；　but　Kent　is　annoyingly　dense。　I　said；　〃Not　your　place。〃
　〃Oh　。。。　how　about　the　infantry　barracks？　The　Third　Battalion　HQ。　It's　on　the　way。〃
　Elkins；　tense　and　paranoid　already；　was　getting　fidgety。　I　said　to　Kent；　〃Okay；　sweetheart。　Ten　minutes。〃　I　hung　up　and　said　to　Sergeant　Elkins；　〃My　girlfriend。　Needs　some　lovin'。〃
　Elkins　looked　at　his　watch。　〃Kinda　late　。。。　or　early　。。。〃
　〃Not　for　this　little　gal。〃
　Elkins　smiled。
　As　per　armory　regulations；　I　was　wearing　a　sidearm；　and；　satisfied　that　Elkins　was　cooled　out；　I　unhooked　the　pistol　belt　and　left　it　there　as　per　post　regulations。　I　didn't　know　then　that　I　would　need　a　weapon　later。　I　said　to　Elkins；　〃Might　be　back。〃
　〃Yeah；　okay。　Give　her　one　for　me；　boy。〃
　〃Sure　thing。〃
　I　had　left　my　Blazer　back　at　the　trailer　park；　and　my　POV…that's　Army　talk　for　privately　owned　vehicle；　not　point　of　view…was　now　a　Ford　pickup　truck；　issued　to　me　for　my　current　impersonation。　It　was　plete　with　shotgun　rack；　dog　hair　on　the　upholstery；　and　a　pair　of　hip　waders　in　the　back。
　So　off　I　went；　through　the　main　post。　Within　a　few　minutes　I　was　into　the　area　of　the　Infantry　Training　Brigade；　long　wooden　World　War　II　era　barracks；　mostly　deserted　now　and　looking　dark　and　spooky。　The　cold　war　is　over；　and　the　Army；　while　not　exactly　withering　away；　is　definitely　downsizing；　and　the　bat　arms　branches…the　infantry；　armor；　and　artillery；　the　reason　for　the　Army's　existence…are　taking　the　biggest　cuts。　The　CID；　however；　dealing　as　it　does　with　crime；　is　a　growth　organization。
　As　a　young　private；　I　graduated　Advanced　Infantry　Training　School　here　at　Fort　Hadley　many　years　ago；　then　went　to　Airborne　School　and　Ranger　School　at　Fort　Benning；　not　far　from　here。　So　I'm　an　Airborne　Ranger…the　ultimate　weapon；　a　killing　machine；　mean；　lean；　death　from　the　skies；　good　to　go；　and　so　on。　But　I'm　a　little　older　now　and　the　CID　suits　me　fine。
　Ultimately；　even　government　institutions　have　to　justify　their　existence；　and　the　Army　was　doing　a　good　job　of　finding　a　new　role　for　itself　in　knocking　around　pissant　countries　who　get　out　of　line。　But　I've　noticed　a　certain　lack　of　esprit　and　purpose　in　the　officers　and　men　who　had　always　felt　that　they　were　the　only　thing　standing　between　the　Russian　hordes　and　their　loved　ones。　It's　sort　of　like　a　boxer；　training　for　years　for　the　title　match；　then　finding　out　that　the　other　contender　just　dropped　dead。　You're　a　little　relieved；　but　there's　also　a　letdown；　a　hollow　place　where　your　adrenaline　pump　used　to　be。
　Anyway；　it　was　that　time　of　day　that　the　Army　calls　first　light；　and　the　Georgia　sky　was　turning　pink；　and　the　air　was　heavy　with　humidity；　and　you　could　figure　out　it　was　going　to　be　a　ninety…degree　day。　I　could　smell　the　wet　Georgia　clay；　the　pine　trees；　and　the　aroma　of　Army　coffee　wafting　out　of　a　nearby　mess　hall；　or　as　we　call　it　now；　a　dining　facility。
　I　pulled　off　the　road　and　onto　the　grassy　field　in　front　of　the　old　Battalion　Headquarters。　Colonel　Kent　got　out　of　his　official　olive…drab　car；　and　I　got　out　of　my　pickup　truck。
　Kent　is　about　fifty；　tall；　medium　build；　with　a　pockmarked　face　and　icy　blue　eyes。　He's　a　bit　stiff　at　times；　not　clever；　as　I　said；　but　hardworking　and　efficient。　He's　the　military　equivalent　of　a　chief　of　police；　manding　all　the　uniformed　military　police　at　Fort　Hadley。　He's　a　stickler　for　rules　and　regulations；　and；　while　not　disliked；　h